Love Resolution

The walk of shame continues, Marcus thought after dutifully submitting to not only one but two interviews that Beth had arranged for him this morning. The videotaped interview for ET had gone well and had been conducted at a decent hour, but the phone conversation with New York City’s Star magazine had been at five a.m. Not that he had been sleeping. From the moment he walked into that hotel room and looked at the empty bed he’d abandoned all thoughts of doing so. He’d pulled out the old running clothes and hit the treadmill, instead of the bottle as he’d been sorely tempted to do.

No matter what, though, the memories relentlessly played out in his head. Even taking a shower reminded him of the last time that he’d made love to her. His heart hurt just thinking about it. The connection they had outside the bedroom was something he’d never experienced with another woman. They had forged a close friendship before they became lovers. There would be an irreplaceable void in his life without her.

In her absence even music had lost its ability to soothe him. She had become his inspiration, his muse, from the first moment he’d looked into those expressive emerald eyes of hers. His creativity was held captive by her, and he feared that he might never release it again.

His resolve to do the right thing and keep away from her had waned by the time the sun came up. Only pulling out her bracelet, the one she’d worn the night of the accident, had helped him regain it. Focusing on the talisman had reminded him how he had failed so miserably.

Don’t be a selfish bastard. Their relationship had always been lopsided. He needed her a lot more than she needed him. She wasn’t made of glass. She’d bounce back from the accident and the breakup soon. With her determination and inner strength, he was confident she would emerge even stronger than before.

Dwight flopped down on the plane’s sectional beside him, jarring him out of his morose musings.

“Little brother,” he said, slapping Marcus on the knee and giving him a searching sidelong glance. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he grimaced.

“You’re welcome. You and I need to talk.”

Great, he thought. Then his cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the display. Red alert. Red Alert.

Worse and worser. A lecture from his brother was preferable to the dose he was about to take. Gut check time. He showed the display to Dwight.

Dwight’s brows rose. “I’m not here,” he said, waving his hands in front of his body and went over to the mini-fridge. He pulled out a can of soda, and popped the tab.

“Coward,” Marcus told him before sliding open the call. “Hey Mom.”

“Marcus.”

Dwight slumped down in a chair and flicked on the television, scrolling up the volume.

Marcus gave him the finger. “I don’t have much time to talk, Mom. We’re getting ready to take off for LA.”

“That’s ok. I didn’t call to talk. I called for you to listen.”

Shit.

“I’ve already expressed my displeasure to you about the drinking. I think I made it perfectly clear that I expect that to stop.”

“I know, Mom.”

She was on a roll, proceeding as if he hadn’t even spoken. “Your father and I love you, but I’m sure you understand that the consequences of this DUI are yours to face. Now about you and Avery. Exactly when were you planning to tell me?”

Double shit.

“What do you mean?” he hedged.

“Marcus Thomas Anthony, don’t try that with me. I’m your mother. I don’t need to be there on that tour with you to know everything that’s going on.”

“Alright. Ok, Mom. I broke it off with her.”

“She called her brother last night, you know. Your father and I had to talk Justin down. He wanted to come down there and I quote, ‘kick your egotistical ass.’”

There was a long uncomfortable pause on the line. Marcus ran a hand through his hair before finally speaking. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mom.”

“Did she give you back Grandma Susan’s ring?”

“No. Not yet, but…”

“Then there’s still hope.”

“No, Mom. It’s over. I know you’re very pro Avery.” Marcus stopped to clear his throat.

“I want the best for both of you,” Rheta responded. “I just don’t understand why you would throw it all away.”

“It’s not open for discussion,” he told her firmly, glancing up as he heard the sound of voices. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said as Avery walked in accompanied by Trevor, Sam, JR, and Ray. “I’ve gotta go.”

Her gaze met his. She bit down on her lip, her eyes filling before they slid away.

“Where have you guys been?” he growled. Seeing her like this tore at him, knowing it was his fault, and also knowing he couldn’t take care of her anymore. “We were supposed to take off fifteen minutes ago.”

“So what?” JR shrugged. “You need to chill, man.” He dropped down on the couch and pulled Sam onto his lap.

“Sorry, Marcus,” Trevor intervened, setting down his bag. “We ran into a bit of traffic.”

Sam giggled as JR brushed his mustache against the side of her neck.

“Hmm,” she murmured, eyes closing.

“Take that shit in private,” Marcus remarked acidly, looking away to find Avery staring at the couple, sadness swirling in her misty eyes.

“I’m taking the bedroom,” she blurted out to no one in particular. “I need to lie down. I have a headache.”



Avery fell into a shallow sleep for the short flight from San Francisco to LA. When the plane touched down, her eyes opened and her head started to pound, hurting for real this time.

She slipped on her shoes and went back out into the lounge. “Does anyone have any Tylenol?” she asked.

“I do,” Sam answered. “In my purse.” She dug around and pulled out a bottle. She uncapped it and handed a couple to Avery.

“Thanks,” Avery mumbled, taking a seat near the window, avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

“I’ll get you a water,” Trevor said moving to the fridge.

By the time she’d finished the bottle, the portable stairs had been rolled up to the jet. “What’s on the schedule today?” she asked Trevor, watching disinterested as the others gathered their things.

“You’ll have a couple of hours of free time at the hotel, Mr. C. Beverly Hills. Then you have a sound check at the Forum at two, and then I need you back at the venue at eight for the concert.”

“Ok.” Avery stood slowly, head throbbing. Rubbing a hand over her eyes, she moved across the plane to throw her empty bottle into the recycling bin. She ran right into Marcus who apparently had been heading full steam for the exit.

“Oh!” She grabbed onto his upper arms to steady herself.

“Excuse me,” he muttered voice gruff, his taut biceps flexing beneath her hands.

She didn’t move, couldn’t move, savoring the warmth and feel of him. When her gaze finally lifted from where it had stalled out on the center of his chest, she encountered his blue as the Caribbean eyes and fell into them with a splash.

Her grip tightened. She didn’t want to let him go. Not now, not ever.

His hands came up and covered hers.

“Marcus, please,” she pleaded, moistening her lips and moved in closer. “I miss you so much. Talk to me. I know we can work this out.”

He stared at her. A moment passed, and then another. She allowed hope to soar from the cage of her heart.

“No, Avery,” he said softly, prying her fingers loose. “There’s nothing left to say.”

Hope plummeted to earth, sputtered, and died. Bitter tears curtained her eyes as she watched him turn the corner out of sight.

“You ok, Avery?” Ray asked.

“No, I’m not.” His rejection was a searing wound through her chest. She felt battered and bruised inside and out. “I’m going to need a moment.”

He took a step toward her as if he wanted to comfort her, and then hesitated. “Sure. I’ll give you a few.” All business he moved toward the exit. “I’ll send the rest on ahead to the hotel,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll wait for you by the car.”