Free Love Deluxe by Kimball Lee Page B

and smiled, calling me his “sweetie!” God, I was a fool for that man.
    The party was over the top wonderful as was expected from a couple who couldn’t spend all their money even if they made it their goal in life. She was glowing in gossamer Vera Wang and at five feet ten and barely a size two, she looked like a former runway model who had snagged ‘Mr. Very Right’ which happened to be the case.
    He’d taken his idea for edible vitamins from pretty good to world class and then sold the company to a pharmaceutical conglomerate for more than a billion dollars. Shrewd investing had made him one of the richest men in America, but the American dream couldn’t buy him immunity from tragedy. He too, had lost a child and sadly that shared tragedy brought us closer as friends.
    I’d told him once, how I felt that my battered heart hung on a rusty nail in my chest and he said, yes, he knew the feeling well. We compared horror stories of well-meaning friends and blatantly ignorant acquaintances who offered useless and sometimes hurtful platitudes. We cringed at, “everything happens for a reason” and, “something good will come of this.” Such ignorance, we agreed, give me all the bad in the world but let me have my child back. Best to just say, “I’m truly, bless your heart.”
    The couple was buoyantly happy, beaming their expectations for a joyous future on all who’d gathered to celebrate. After dinner, drinks, sentimental toasts and teary wishes for great joy, the guests began to leave. I hugged the bride and we promised not to forget our usual sushi Friday’s.
    The groom hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Are you alright? You look fantastic, Catey, you’re glowing, but I’m worried about these.” He brushed his fingers over the shadow of bruises on my upper arms.
    I felt my face turn pink at the thought of what John and I had been up to as I looked him in the eye and tilted my head. Smiling, I gave a little shrug.
    “I see, alright, well enjoy yourselves but come up for air once in a while and give us a call.” He kissed my cheek and said quietly, “Be careful, Cate, there are red flags everywhere.”
    John and I waited for the valet to bring the car and I was quiet, thinking about red flags, what the hell did that mean? I let it go, knowing he was a little paranoid and who wouldn’t be with all that money? Someone always wanted something from him. Reporters wanted interviews, people asked for loans and whispered about his net worth, as if that was all there was to him anymore.
    The car arrived and before I could get in John wrapped me in his arms. His mouth brushed my ear and he whispered, “Marry me.”
    I leaned back, looked him in the eye, not sure if he was kidding or not, “Has the evening got you all sentimental or are you just crazy?”
    He ran his fingers along my jawline, smiling broadly with a boyish glint in his eye.
    At home we barely made it to the bed before throwing shoes, clothes and sanity to the wind. We made love slowly, wordlessly, finishing with moans that were far from noiseless. John fell asleep almost instantly, he claimed that our love making was like a drug that left him in need of recharging. I climbed under the covers naked and sweaty and wrapped myself around his long, smoothly muscled body. Sex with him had the opposite effect on me. I was beyond satisfied and completely energized. After he fell asleep I would read or watch TV. Mostly I’d just lie next to him letting my fingers play across his sculpted chest, reveling in the feel of his skin under my hands.
    I wondered once at his lack of chest hair and he’d replied, in true John Foster fashion, “It’s a swimmers body.” I was always caught off guard by his strange sense of reality. He was not, in fact, a swimmer. Another time I noticed a small pock mark near his ribs and he told me how a childhood friend had accidently shot him with a BB gun.
    “Did he get in trouble?” I asked.
    “Well, his mom and dad