Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Langhorne, Karyn (general ebook reader .txt) 📕

woman you pursued and sacri-

ficed for, a woman who you still follow with your

eyes when she leaves a room—”

“Only to make sure she’s not leaving with my

wallet.”

“That’s bull. You found her beautiful and you still

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do—admit it! And what’s so wrong with me want-

ing you to find me beautiful, too?”

“I did! I do!” he roared.

“You couldn’t even look me in the face—”

“Because of your eyes!” he shouted.

“My eyes?” Audra repeated, dumbfounded.

“What about my—”

“You’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever

seen,” he grumbled as though the admission was

hurting him. “It’s like you’re really seeing me. See-

ing through to the heart of me. It’s unnerving and

wonderful and . . .” He paced away from her. “Every

since that day in the day room, when your pants

ripped and the inmates were laughing . . .” His am-

ber eyes found hers. “You handled that with such

grace, and then when I saw your eyes and saw the

hurt”—he sighed—“I lost part of my heart then and

there. I knew I had to keep my head down or you’d

know . . . and I wasn’t ready for that. I had too much

other stuff to get rid of, to sort out . . .”

“Like Esmeralda?” Audra prompted.

“We’ll never be completely rid of her,” he mut-

tered. “But yeah, it had to be sorted out. She was liv-

ing with me at the time and I knew . . . I knew I’d

lose you forever if you found that out. And Penny

had to be prepped. When a child’s been used to the

sole attention of a parent, introducing someone new

can be tough. I wanted you to talk to Penny . . . get

to know her apart from being her dad’s girlfriend,

but that didn’t go right, did it?”

“No,” Audra agreed. “She thought you wanted

me to meet her to give her an ugly duckling pep

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talk,” Audra said. “And after seeing Esmeralda, so

did I.”

“This is just one miscommunication after an-

other,” he said ruefully. “Because by the time

Esmeralda left us, you were gone. Or at least you’d

made the decision to go. Off to California to be

made over. I wanted to stop you . . . but I thought it

was being selfish, so . . .” He trailed off. “But it

turned out to be a good thing. It was so much easier

then, because I could talk to you without having to

worry about those eyes of yours.”

“But when I came back . . .”

“When you came back and I saw those eyes I

loved in a face so like my ex-wife’s . . . a face I’ve

grown to hate”—he shook his head—“I’ve got to tell

you, it really freaked me out. That, and . . .” His am-

ber eyes pierced her face. “Why didn’t you tell me,

Audra? Why didn’t you tell me about the skin-tone

stuff? All the talking we’ve done over the past few

months . . . I can’t understand how you could keep

something so important from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Audra said. “I knew I should tell

you . . . but I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of me?”

“A little,” Audra admitted. “Not because I was

trying to look like Esmeralda—I wasn’t. I just

wanted to look like the women in my family: Petra,

my mother. Only now I’ve met the other women in

my family, too . . .” She struggled to regain her fo-

cus. “I didn’t want you to think I was so shallow. I

didn’t want you to think I was some self-hating

black woman whose ideal of beauty was a skinny,

white girl. That’s not me. I may be a silly, self-hating

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black woman”—Audra’s eyes filled with unex-

pected tears—“but my ideal of beauty is my sister

Petra . . . and it always has been. I wish she were

here,” she whispered. “I really, really do.”

She felt Art Bradshaw’s arms encircle her, just as

the first tear slid down her cheeks.

“I know,” he murmured into the side of her neck.

“I’ve just got to get used to seeing those eyes in

that face. You’re a beautiful woman now, Audra. I

came out there—to California—ready to profess my

undying love like the hero in a classic Hollywood

drama.” He gave her a sad smile. “And then I real-

ized how unfair that was. I’ve got to get used to see-

ing how other men look at you. I’ve got to deal with

the fact that you’re a beautiful woman. And one day

you might decide you can do better than a guy like

me—”

Audra spun around to face him. “Never. I knew

from the very beginning you were my soul mate.

When you knew the difference between Casablanca

and Double Indemnity.”

Art’s eyes twinkled.

“All we need now,” he purred in his sexiest voice.

“Is an anklet.”

Audra’s mouth went dry, her heart got loud. She

closed her eyes, knowing what he’d say next . . .

“Don’t you get it, Audra?” He shook her shoul-

ders gently. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look

like: light, dark, fat, thin. If you wear sweats or de-

signer clothes—I could care less. Women are so hard

on themselves about the way they look. I’ll be happy

as long as you’re still the woman who makes me

laugh. Who can be tough and tender at the same

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time. Who’s smart and loyal and full—just full to her

eyebrows with passion for everything she does—”

He stopped short. “Look, I know I’m not what

you’re looking for, so I guess there’s no real point to

this, but—”

“Oh, Art . . .” Audra said realizing in an instant

what had been right in front of her face all along.

“Yeah, I’m in love with you, Audra,” he gave a

hopeless little smile. “Have been from the day you

flipped Haines over your shoulder and threw him

against the wall.”

Audra lifted her hands to his face. “There’s a

speed limit in this state. Forty-five miles an hour.”

He lowered his lips toward hers. “How fast was I

going, Officer?”

“About ninety . . .” Audra murmured as their lips

met, the violins swelled and at long last, Art