Page 50 of King
Chapter 15
Ella
Once I got home from my ice cream binge session with Camille, I took a long, hot bubble bath, and tried to sort out my feelings about the situation with King. In between scoops of ice cream, Camille had spent the evening trying to reason with me and had finally accused me of running scared and using the incidents with Star, the strip club, and King’s radio-silence as an excuse not to see him again.
“After what I went through with Clayton, can you blame me?” I’d asked in exasperation. “Jesus, Camille, I’ve already had one man who cheated and kept secrets. I sure as hell don’t need another.”
“I get that, but are you sure that’s what this is? From what you said, he had some kind of club business that kept him busy. There are a lot of jobs that people can’t share the details of. Hell, I can’t tell you some things about my work due to patient privacy laws, and that doesn’t bother you. Maybe this shouldn’t either. And as far as that Star bitch, he told you he wasn’t interested in her and why she lied to you. Do you think he was lying about any of that?”
“No, but they have a stripper pole in the corner of their clubhouse, for God’s sake and that Star woman wasn’t even wearing enough material to make a handkerchief out of. Plus, who in the hell has business meetings in a strip club?”
“Well, people whose business owns a strip club, for one.” I had dropped my head and groaned at her, not appreciating the fact that her answer actually made sense.
“You know I have a valid point there, so put that particular objection aside and tell me what’s really holding you back?” she’d interrupted, getting to the truth in the way that only a best friend could.
“I don’t think I can just be another hook-up for him, and it will be awkward as hell when he’s done with me.”
“Did he say he only wanted a hook-up, and why they hell do you think he’d be the one to end it? Maybe you’ll find out he gets gassy at night or trims his pubes and leaves them on the bathroom floor. Maybe you’ll be the one to kick him to the curb.”
When I hadn’t answered, she’d pushed the issue.
“Just because Dr. Douchebag was too stupid to appreciate what an incredible woman you are doesn’t mean that King will be the same way. Stop selling yourself short, EL, and stop settling for men who are safe. The insurance guy, and the one before that – the professor – and the guy before that who I can’t even remember. They were all perfectly nice, perfectly bland, and perfectly safe. You weren’t in danger of losing your heart or your head with any of them. That’s why you chose them, and that’s why you’re running scared now. King has you feeling more after just a few days than the insurance guy did in three months of dating.”
Now, as I lazily ran my hand through the bubbles floating on the water’s surface, I admitted to myself that she might be on to something. I tilted my head back to rest it against the edge of the tub and stared at the ceiling, trying to separate my thoughts from my emotions.
Once I looked at things rationally, I was able to admit that Camille was right. I was pushing King away because I was running scared. However, I was also right. It was better to end things now, before things ended badly and became awkward. King and I were two very different people, looking for two very different things.
I wasn’t necessarily looking for Mr. Right, but I wasn’t willing to settle for Mr. Right Now either. Despite what he had said, King Morgan had Mr. Right Now written all over his handsome face. Given my friendship – not to mention rental agreement – with his father, that spelled nothing but trouble.
After reluctantly getting out of the tub and drying off, I slipped into my favorite over-sized sleep shirt and slid into bed. I slept fitfully and woke up resolved to forget about Dante “King” Morgan once and for all.
Hours later, I was valiantly trying to remind myself that he wasn’t good for me. The problem was, I was having trouble remembering exactly why, thanks to the flowers that had just been delivered, with a handwritten card that read,“The amaryllis symbolizes worth beyond beauty. I see both with you. Have a good day, sugar.”
They were beautiful; a vibrant red color that was my absolute favorite. After a few minutes of indecision, I sent him a text thanking him.
Me: Thank you for the flowers. They are lovely, but not necessary.
King: I disagree. They are very necessary. I understand that you’re leery, but I’m going to prove to you that you should give me a chance. I’m not afraid of fighting for what I want, and make no mistake, sugar, I want you.
Me: I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind.
King: I dare you to let me try.
I put my phone down and resolved to not look at it the rest of the night. Later that night as I was getting ready for bed, I glanced at it, seeing a text from about an hour ago.
King: I was playing poker with some of the brothers earlier, and it occurred to me that I haven’t told you how I got my road name. My half-brother and I prospected for the club at the same time and played poker one night with the other prospects. Despite the fact that we caught him cheating with an ace that he had literally hidden up his sleeve, I beat him with three kings. So, when we were patched in, Sinner named us King and Ace. I’ve rarely used my real name since then, but I like hearing it from you. Goodnight, sugar.
Before going to sleep, I went into my phone’s contact list, and changed his name from King to Dante.
By Sunday afternoon, I was dozing off while watching TV, exhausted after yet another night of tossing and turning. I awoke when the doorbell rang and was stunned to see the floral delivery man again, holding a huge vase of daffodils this time. “Daffodils represent new beginnings. That’s all I’m asking for. Have a good day, sugar.
My heart turned to mush, and I started to give in. I reached for the phone to call him, then reminded myself that I was a mature, independent forty-fucking-year-old woman, not a starry-eyed teenager in the throes of a crush on the school’s bad boy. I gave myself a mental kick in the ass for good measure, then texted him.
Me: The daffodils are beautiful, but a new beginning isn’t a good idea. For either of us.
Dante: I’m glad you liked them.
Dante: Oh, and you’re wrong. It’s an excellent idea.
