Page 558 of The Tempted

Chapter Eighteen

I visited Christine’s grave every Saturday for the last month as a way to repay Blackie for always doing right by me. I knew it meant something to him, that it gave him purpose in a world where he thought he didn’t have any, and every week he missed a chance to bring her flowers was one week he thought less of himself.

The first time I brought the flowers I felt like I was doing something wrong, like I shouldn’t have been there and didn’t have the right. It’s kind of fucked up, visiting the grave of a woman who was married to the man you love. It’s not like they were divorced and fell out of love, they were a tragic love story, a modern day Romeo and Juliet, two people who loved one another but fell victim to corruption.

I know Blackie will always hold a certain love for her.

As he should.

That kind of love doesn’t die, it stays with you, guides you into eternity.

I want that kind of love.

The second visit I felt the same way but as I stared at her name I forced myself to remember the faint images my memory carried of the woman who made Blackie smile. It was my eleventh birthday and my father threw a party for me at the clubhouse. It was awkward being the biker princess when there weren’t any women in the clubhouse and the presents I got that year were just as strange. Wolf bought me a catcher’s mitt and told me boys my age loved girls who played sports. Pipe, the poor bastard, he gave me a Barbie doll. Imagine? I decided I didn’t really want presents after that, and I anxiously waited for Blackie to arrive.

He finally showed up, but he wasn’t alone…Christine was with him and they looked so damn happy. I hated them both. Let me explain, I was an eleven-year-old girl, with a crush on a man, not a boy, and he was married to the prettiest girl I had ever seen. Prettier than my mom, prettier than my favorite actress. I realized then, even at that tender age when a girl notices boys, that Blackie only had eyes for her.

Of course they bought me the cool gift.

A caboodle full of lip gloss and nail polish.

Did I mention I hated them?

The third visit to Christine I talked to her. I told her the truth, confessed my feelings and then I apologized. I apologized for hating her when I was younger and for not getting to know her then. I told her I’d always regret not getting the chance to make a memory with her, something I could compare when Blackie took his trips down memory lane.

By the fourth visit, I knew he was being released and my time with Christine would come to a close. I asked her to watch over him and promised he’d return next week.

I never expected him to find me there.

If he went to the cemetery, found the flowers and wondered who brought them…I’d let him keep wondering.

But he not only saw me, he heard everything I said and for the first time I became his equal. Someone who could relate and understand. I took a chance, despite the doubt my maker tried to impart on me, hoping he wouldn’t turn a deaf ear to me and pleaded with him.

He didn’t argue or makes excuses.

He listened.

A spark of hope was ignited and even though I wanted to stay with him, never leave his side, I walked away and gave him his overdue visit with his smile keeper.

My dad and Reina were having everyone over for dinner, a celebration of sorts, thankful that that he survived. I was on pins and needles after I left the cemetery, worried about how he’d act in front of everyone and prayed he wouldn’t act like a world class jerk. I didn’t think my heart could take another blow, especially, not after sharing a tender moment and the softer side of the man clothed in leather.

He was relatively quiet as he sat beside me, eating the olives I picked out of my salad. He didn’t ignore me or pretend like he wasn’t feeling some kind of way about me. I’m not naïve enough to believe he had some sort of epiphany but I think he thought about the, what if and maybe, just maybe, he walked away from the cemetery carrying the same spark of hope I did.

My phone blew up, reminding me I had made plans with Daniela and Noah to attend this frat party. I hated college parties, especially the type that included sorority girls.

Fake.

Whiney.

Kappa Annoying.

I texted Blackie about twenty minutes ago the address I was at but he didn’t answer me. I hope he didn’t change his mind. He brought me into the bathroom, whispered sexy things into my ear as he slid his hand into my pants.

I glanced around the room at the guys doing keg stands and smiled.

There was no comparison.

Give me my guy over these any day.

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