Outer Core Read online

  Outer Core

  by

  Sigal Ehrlich

  Copyright © Sigal Ehrlich

  ISBN: 978-0-9914007-9-9 (eBook)

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Outer Core

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Copyright © 2016 by Sigal Ehrlich. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Cover designed by Matthew Phillips (http://thecoverlure.com/)

  Cover art:

  Copyright © Shutterstock 000022050959

  Editing by Nicole Hornbaker Langston

  Jenny Sims of www.editing4indies.com

  Formatted by Polgarus Studio http://www.polgarusstudio.com/

  Published by Sigal Ehrlich

  http:// www.sigalehrlich.com

  Visit the author website:

  http://www.sigalehrlich.com

  Version 2016.04.15

  For my readers.

  Also, for my real-life Ian.

  To reach the core of inner beauty, one must first unravel the many protective layers.

  No matter what, relationships will always be haunted by mistakes we’ve made and wrongs we’ve hurt each other with. And you can only hope, as the legendary Bob D. sang, that you’ll have a strong foundation when the winds of change shift . . . and boy, these winds of change are shifting. Shifting and bringing a big pile of change with them as they swift by change that I can’t anticipate. Change I can’t protect myself against.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 Prolonging the Inevitable

  Chapter 2 Making Amends

  Chapter 3 Grand Gesture

  Chapter 4 Good for Your Soul

  Chapter 5 Waiting Game

  Chapter 6 For Real

  Chapter 7 The One Thing

  Chapter 8 That Thing You Do

  Chapter 9 When Birds Sing Off-Key

  Chapter 10 Don’t Rain on My Parade

  Chapter 11 Fait Accompli

  Chapter 12 Knowledge is Not Always Power

  Chapter 13 Into the Woods

  Chapter 14 Forget the World with Me

  Chapter 15 Just Like an Earthquake

  Chapter 16 Shake It Off

  Chapter 17 Growing Up?

  Chapter 18 Powerfully. Fiercely. Complete.

  Chapter 19 Sweets, Booze, and a Colonic

  Chapter 20 Because Sometimes You Just Have to

  Chapter 21 Something in the Water?

  Chapter 22 My Eyes Are up Here

  Chapter 23 Last Meal Soirée

  Chapter 24 Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking

  Chapter 25 Every High Has a Come Down

  Chapter 26 Wherefore Art Thou, D?

  Chapter 27 Come Pick Me Up

  Chapter 28 Keep Your Chakras Lit

  Chapter 29 I Kissed a Girl

  Chapter 30 Perfect Sense

  Chapter 31 Roasted Bird and News

  Chapter 32 After Midnight

  Chapter 33 First Public Showing

  Chapter 34 We All Have to Start Somewhere

  Chapter 35 A Synonym for Perfection

  Chapter 36 Moment in Time

  Chapter 37 Breathe a Little Better

  From the Author

  Acknowledgments

  An excerpt from Leaving Me Behind

  Also by Sigal Ehrlich

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Prolonging the Inevitable

  “What’s crappening? What you gorgeous ladies doin’?” Ian’s voice booms from my cell.

  “Nothing much, just breaking our backs working on our tan lines.” I turn to lie on my stomach, facing the sea. “I’m watching Daniel surf. Tash’s reading.”

  “Now, you’re talking. Please tell me you’re at a nudist beach and describe every piece of stretched skin, smooth skin, foreskin, ridge, rim, and vein you see. . .

  “Jeez, I’m so horny, I could do a goat. And that man of yours . . .” Ian adds and sighs. A sigh I could easily constitute as a moan. “Looks like he might be holding some fine stallion in his stable.”

  Tasha shakes her head, snatching the phone from its resting place on the straw mat we’re most indulgingly sprawled across. “No, Ian. Seriously, boundaries! That’s her fiancé you’re talking about!” she squeaks.

  Ian laughs it off. “Newsflash, Barbie. The fact he’s spoken for doesn’t mean he can’t be healthily appreciated . . . every part of him, that is. Every part.”

  “You’re too much this early in the morning; speak to Hales.” Tasha scrunches her nose, handing me the phone. “I’m getting back to my book.” She slides her sunglasses from her head back to cover her eyes.

  “What’s she reading?” Ian asks with a chuckle, his voice colored with horn sounds and bustling street bedlam.

  “One of those I’m so in love with you I can’t breathe, it’s you, it’s always been you, but your stepbrother is oh-so-hot, so let’s have a ménage kind of literary gems.”

  Ian snorts a laugh while Tasha raises her hand to show me her middle finger, not even bothering to glance my way.

  “All the heroines in these books are practically snails, Tash. Snails!” Ian hollers.

  A “Huh?” rolls out of our mouths in unison. Tasha pivots her head, her eyes jumping from the device in my hand to my shrug.

  “Softies! No spines. Leaving trails of slime in every scene the hero, pardon, alpha, breathes their way.”

  I giggle, my eyes drawn to Daniel catching yet another wave, adeptly riding it with utter grace and heightened sex appeal. His damp, mussed hair highlighted with streaks of gold by the warm sun. All of a sudden, the “trails of moisture” part doesn’t sound so ludicrous. Still drinking up the delectable sight that is my fiancé, I ask, “So how’s the Big Apple treating you?”

  “I’m heading to a meeting with the director as we speak,” Ian says, excitement lacing his words. “God, it’s like the worst part of Shitville up here. It’s so raucous and gray,” he murmurs next. “I still can’t believe this is really happening. Crazy, eh?”

  And we’re back to the original subject.

  “I’m so happy for you. I was beyond stoked when I saw your ugly face on a billboard, but a movie; that’s mind blowing.”

  “Yeah. I hope everything goes smooth, and there’ll actually be a movie.” His voice takes a weaker, self-conscious tone.

  “Just be yourself.”

  “Dah. Okay, gotta go. Sharky’s here.”

  “Bye,” Tasha and I chorus. “Knock ‘em dead.”

  I smile at Ian’s perfect accolade for his agent. Stanton Cohen, aka Sharky, is indeed a personified shark. Smooth. Sharp teeth and tongue, a bona fide swindler who threads the big league’s media waters leaving casualties behind. And while he’s at it, he clinches the best
deals for his clients.

  Tasha closes her Kindle and turns to lie on her back, covering her face with an impossibly large, floppy straw hat. “I feel like I need a break,” she says to the skies.

  I crane my neck and give her a side-glance, finding nothing but a hat made of straw and plump lips. “A break from what, missy?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighs

  “Work, home, life?”

  “Rafa, I think. And, well, yeah, him.”

  I turn to mimic her position, lying on my back, and close my eyes to block out the blinding sun. “Why, what happened?”

  There’s a moment of utter silence, besides the faint echoes of birds’ chirping and waves swooshing. “Nothing happened. That’s the thing.”

  “Not sure I’m following.”

  “Sometimes, it feels like I’m with Ian when I’m with Rafa.” The tail end of her sentence comes out on a softer chord.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we have this great chemistry in every aspect of our relationship, yet it feels more like a sibling sort of connection rather than what it’s supposed to be.”

  “That sounds like a great foundation for a relationship to me.”

  “No.” She sighs again. “Not when there’s no tension whatsoever.”

  “What tension?”

  “The tension that controls your excitement. The kind that makes you want to rip his clothes off when you see him. I don’t have this thrill bubbling up in me before seeing him. I’m always glad to see him, don’t get me wrong. But . . .” She huffs. “There’s no anticipation. Zero anticipation. You know what I mean?”

  For some meditative beats, I ponder her words and my reaction to Daniel. Tasha’s concern crystalizes. Regardless of how long we’ve been together, even if Daniel is in the next room, I miss him. A constant light with his name on it buzzes within me. “Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying. So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Dunno. Guess I need a short break. Some time apart. A getaway to think things over. Somewhere I’d be slathered in creams and oils till I die of happiness. Besties are a part of the package, of course.”

  “I hear ya.” I nod though she can’t really see me from under The Hat. “Let me talk to Mr. Hollywood and see what we can do. See if his tight schedule can accommodate simple ol’ us.” She sends her hand to her hat, raises it enough to send me a gigantic grin that ends with a glitzy smile, and then returns to hide under the ridiculous accessory.

  “So did Daniel mention anything about setting a date again?” Tasha asks out of the what-in-the-literal-hell blue, making me wince. What’s up with killing the serene quietude, missy?

  “No, but it’s probably coming. Actually, I’m surprised he’s dropped it for a while now.” I bet it’s a new tactic of his to keep me numb, sedated with sex and bliss before the next strike.

  “Hales, really, what’s your problem? Honestly, I don’t get you. And please don’t give me the whole finding yourself first thing. It might work for Krishna chicks. Otherwise, it’s just lame.”

  Seeing Daniel’s handsome face before my closed eyes, I look for some illumination to what’s been holding me from finally setting a date for our wedding. I don’t even have the slightest of doubts in my mind about marrying him. But still. “I don’t know,” I say in mild frustration.

  “You’re so maddening.”

  “Excuse me, missy? Whose side are you on anyway?”

  “Yours.” By her tone alone, I can just imagine the hole she would have burned into me with her stare if that absurd hat didn’t have her buried. “Grow a pair and just do it.”

  “Grow a pair and do what?” Daniel’s voice timbres from somewhere above, prompting me to send my hand to shade my eyes and look up at him. In tandem, Tash resurfaces from under her straw accessory. With one powerful shove, Daniel secures the surfboard in the sand and sends his hand to the zipper at the back of his wetsuit.

  He halts with the suit peeled down to his waist when Tasha says, “Told your lady love here that the whole stalling to set a date for the wedding is getting old.”

  And then there were two. I’m officially disowning her. As of this moment, it’s just Ian and me. But first things first. I must comment on this treason before my not so subdued beloved psycho has a field day with it. And since there’s no better distraction than seduction, I jump to my feet to jump him. Before he is able to comment or breathe, I stretch up on my tiptoes and glue my lips to his. Drops from his damp hair rain down on me as our kiss gains momentum. Breaking the kiss, I say, “Hey, you’ll get me all wet,” while adding a sultry hue to my voice.

  “You bet your sweet, sweet, perfect ass I will,” he whispers in my ear.

  Bingo, we are in the sexy innuendoes realm. Mission accomplished, distraction achieved. I grin at him, licking my lips from the wonderful taste of D mixed with sea.

  “I’ll leave you ladies to it. I’m going to hit the shower.” Daniel kisses me again. He brings his lips to my cheek, kisses it once more, and shifts to nuzzle me just below my ear. “Just so you know, your little attempt at diversion didn’t work. We’ll talk later.” He turns to get his board and walks back to the house.

  Damn you, Tash.

  . . .

  “Hey, check out the text Ian just sent us,” Tasha says over a giggle while putting her cup into the dishwasher. As she turns to look for her flip-flops and car keys, I ask her for her phone.

  I send Daniel a soft smile when he enters the kitchen, heading to the fridge. Trying not to read too much into the halfhearted smile he rewards me with, I check the message.

  “What?” I study the screen. “I can’t believe this, this is such . . . Aaargh!” I express my feelings to the tabloid link Ian sent us which he captioned with “my day = made.”

  I narrow my eyes at Tasha, an action that makes her laugh even harder. “C’mon, Hales, it’s hilarious.”

  “No, nothing is even remotely funny about it. It’s . . . ugh!” I give the photo of Daniel and me a better examination. It is from one of the formal events we attended recently, and we are smiling at each other. He looks spectacular in a tux while I look more than cute in a little black dress. Everything about the photo is lovely. Everything minus one small detail. Somehow, they managed to capture my body in the most uncomplimentary angle. Something about the way I’m standing gives the illusion of a prominent beer belly.

  My narrowed eyes dart Daniel’s way at his snort as he checks out the photo. “What?” he says with a chuckle. His grin grows. “Told you one burrito was enough.”

  “Sure that’s the angle you’re choosing to go with?” I give him a death look, which only prompts his teasing lips to smirk.

  He winks at me. “Looks cute on you, though.”

  “Who eats a burrito before squeezing into a tight dress?” Tasha asks, incredulous.

  “My awesome Hayley.” Daniel takes a long swig of his bottled water, his joyful eyes on me.

  “Well, what can I say, Hales. Mommy belly indeed looks cute on you,” Tasha says still grinning like a loon.

  “God, what an awful picture.” I tilt the phone sideways to have a better look. “My body looks so disproportional.” I groan.

  “You always look perfect. I’d take you any shape or size.” Daniel squeezes my waist, leaving a kiss on my forehead on his way out of the kitchen.

  “Yeah.” Tasha scrunches her nose. “Easy to say when Hayley looks like she does.”

  Daniel turns in the doorway to face Tasha, amusement cleared off his features. “Natasha, I can assure you that I’d want Hayley in any size, and it’s a matter of fact, I can’t wait for her to have a ‘mommy belly.’”

  I barely catch Tasha’s wide smile as I look at Daniel startled. For a stretched beat, I take a step into myself. The impact of Daniel’s words outlasting my next breaths. I can’t wait for her to have a mommy belly? Is he serious? He can’t wait? Does he want to start a family . . . right away? For a span of a confusing moment, a vision of Daniel with
a child, our child, takes form before my eyes. Sweet, warm pain brims in my chest. I stand still, jarred. Something happens inside of me; something catalyzes deep, deep inside me. Tasha squeezes my hand with a wide grin, her eyes following Daniel as he leaves the room.

  “We still need to talk,” Daniel says over his shoulder, his tone shaking me out of a tailspin of thoughts.

  Chapter 2

  Making Amends

  After seeing Ms. Traitor-Taylor to her car and starting the dishwasher, I turn to face my fate. I find him in his office ending a call. Leaning on the doorjamb, I watch Daniel. He’s too absorbed in the call to notice me. A smile blooms on my face as I gaze at him running a hand through his unruly golden clusters, looking deliciously casual in a white tee and jeans as he gazes out the window. He scrubs his hand over his scruff, not seeming too pleased with the response coming from the speakerphone. With an irritated sigh, he swivels in his chair and turns to brace his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers above the phone.

  “I see. Then if there’s any problem, this is my number,” he says, blatantly impatient.

  “Mr. Stark, you called from an unlisted number,” mutters the person on the speakerphone.

  “Exactly.”

  Inwardly, I shake my head. There are some things about you, D, that I might never get used to. When he turns to look my way, his features shift into question.

  “You are so cute,” I state, referring to his refined form of communication with . . . basically, everyone on the planet. A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips, and the question in his stare sharpens. “Cute as a button!” I add.

  He snorts a brief chuckle. His stare on me turns into something I’m unable to decode. It’s somewhere between good-sexy heated, and bad-I’m-about-to-snap hot.

  Taking slow steps toward him, I softly ask, “Yes?”