Unbreakable

by Harlow, Melanie

  “That makes two of us.”

  She laughed softly. “I wish I knew when we could do it again.”

  “Again, that makes two of us.”

  She inched a little closer to me. “Maybe I could come by the winery later tonight. Since I’m working in the tasting room tomorrow, I thought maybe you could teach me some things.”

  Her sex-kitten tone told me she wasn’t thinking about things like the body profile of our pinot noir. My cock twitched in my pants, and I cleared my throat. “You can come by the winery tonight.”

  “The inn is going to get busy with people checking in this afternoon, and I promised my mom I’d help. Then I have to get the kids fed. But after that, they’re going to watch a movie with my dad. Maybe I could come then? Around eight, if that’s not too late?”

  “That’s fine.” She could have said midnight, and I wouldn’t have cared.

  “I won’t be able to stay too long.”

  “I’m a good teacher. We’ll work fast.”

  She smiled up at me. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Thirteen

  Sylvia

  When Frannie came to pick up the girls, she asked if she could talk to me alone.

  “Sure,” I said, glancing at the kitchen table, where all five kids were finishing up ice cream sundaes. “Want to go in the family room?”

  “Um, let’s go upstairs,” she said, her expression concerned. She lowered her voice. “I really don’t want them to hear us.”

  “Okay.” My stomach twisted into knots as we made our way up to my bedroom. Once we were inside, I sat on the edge of my bed and Frannie shut the door, leaning back against it.

  “I don’t want you to freak out,” she said, holding up both palms.

  “Frannie, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  “So, you’d mentioned once before that your kids are not allowed on social media, right?”

  “Right. I’ve told them they have to wait until high school.”

  “Well, Whitney has an Instagram account.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  Frannie nodded. “She does. She showed it to Millie. And you need to see it.”

  My stomach churned. “Oh, God.”

  “It’s not terrible—it’s just . . . I think you should talk to her.” Frannie came and sat next to me on the bed, pulling out her phone. It took her only a few seconds to find Whitney’s account.

  The profile name wasn’t real, but the photos were—a series of selfies of her in full makeup, pouting for the camera. I scrolled through, relieved not to see anything too suggestive but sick to my stomach to think she’d done this and hidden it from me. I glanced up at the bio: Just a girl who wants to feel beautiful.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back tears. “Shit.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Frannie said, taking the phone from my hand. “The account is set to private, and it’s relatively new so she doesn’t have many followers. But I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks. Now tell me what to do about it.”

  She laughed gently. “Sorry, I haven’t dealt with this one yet. But it’s probably coming. Millie is all over Mack about social media, but he always refuses.”

  “What would he do if he found out she’d done it anyway?”

  “Take her phone away. Ground her for life. Overreact and lecture her about all the creeps and weirdos out there on social media trying to prey on young girls. And then, because the lecture would involve a lot of cursing, he’d probably have to put like twenty dollars in the swear jar.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, that’s not really my parenting style. But maybe my style is all wrong. Maybe if I’d been tougher, she’d have respected my rules more. Maybe I deserve this.”

  Frannie put an arm around me. “Stop it—you’re a great mother. She’s just been through a lot. And really, this isn’t that big of a deal. Just talk to her.”

  “I will.” I stared down at our shoes, swallowing hard. “It makes me so sad that she doesn’t feel beautiful. Is it my fault somehow? Am I fucking up this whole single parenting thing already?”

  “No,” Frannie said emphatically, giving me a squeeze. “You’re doing the best you can in a shitty situation. All girls her age go through this—Millie is right there with her. I cannot tell you how many tears she has shed over her hair before school in the morning. Her hair is ruining her life.”

  I shook my head, laughing a little because I remembered those days all too well. “I know they do. I certainly did. But she never acted this way before the divorce and I’m just worried some of it’s coming from being deserted by her dad.”

  “That’s why you have to talk to her. Or find a therapist for her. Mack’s girls went to someone after his ex left. Want her number? They really liked her.”

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  “You got it. I’ll get it from Mack and text it to you.” She stood up and tucked her phone into her purse. “You gonna be okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It just seems like whenever I think I’m making progress at my fresh start, something sets me back.”

  “This isn’t a setback, Syl. It’s a little bump on the parenting road. You can handle it.”

  I smiled at her and took a deep breath. “Thanks. And thanks again for having them last night.”

  “My pleasure. We had fun. Did you enjoy your night alone?”

  My face got hot. “Um, yes. I enjoyed it a lot.”

  “Sylvia . . .” Frannie’s head tilted. “Why are your cheeks so red?”

  “Because I wasn’t exactly alone.”

  She gasped. “What?”

  I covered my face with both hands. “I can’t even believe I’m telling you this.”

  “Oh my God—you were with Henry, weren’t you?”

  I nodded, still hiding behind my palms.

  “I knew it!” she crowed. “I told Mack something was up between you two on Christmas Eve. So what happened?”

  I let my hands fall into my lap. “Everything.”

  “Like, everything everything?”

  “Three times.”

  Frannie squealed and bounced around. “Oh my God, Sylvia! That’s amazing!” She stopped moving. “Wait—was it amazing?”

  I nodded. “It really was. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day.”

  “Wow. So you and Henry.”

  “There’s not really a me and Henry. We’re not exactly sure what we’re doing,” I admitted.

  “Do you have to know right now? I mean, can’t you guys just see where it goes?”

  “That’s sort of the plan,” I told her. “So don’t say anything to anyone, okay?”

  “My lips are sealed,” she said, pretending to zip them shut. “I won’t even tell Mack if you don’t want me too.”

  I didn’t like asking my sister to keep a secret from her husband, but I felt like the fewer people who knew right now, the better. “Thanks. I don’t think Henry would mind if Mack knew, but—”

  Frannie held up her hands. “Do not worry. I totally get it. When Mack and I were first messing around, it was the same way—we had to keep it from everyone, especially the kids.” She dropped her arms. “Although, as it turns out, we weren’t really fooling them.”

  Frowning, I said, “Yeah, kids are smart. And mine have been through so much, I just don’t want to add any complications.”

  “But you deserve to be happy too, Syl,” Frannie said softly. “And if spending time with Henry makes you happy, I say go for it.”

  “Thanks.” I looked down at my hands in my lap, wishing it were that easy. “I’m supposed to go over to the winery and see him later tonight. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t just stay here and be with the kids. Talk to Whitney.”

  “Can’t you do both?”

  “Maybe.” That was really the question, wasn’t it? Could I be the kind of mother I needed to be and also have this sexy thing with Henry on the side?

  I wasn’t sure I really wanted the answer to th
at question.

  Downstairs, Whitney begged me to let Millie sleep over, and Frannie said it was okay with her. I said it was fine, relieved that at least I was off the hook tonight—I didn’t want to have the Instagram conversation with anyone else around. Plus, I needed some time to think about how I was going to approach it. I didn’t want to be angry and accusatory—that was not a tactic that worked well with preteen girls. And it wasn’t like I didn’t understand her desire to feel beautiful.

  My God, wasn’t that the reason I loved being around Henry? Because of the way he made me feel about myself? Because I’d felt ugly and worthless for so long? Were all the likes Whitney was hoping for akin to the attention Henry paid me? How could I judge her when I was guilty too? Was I a hypocrite?

  It started to bother me so much that I decided to text Henry and tell him I couldn’t come. I took out my phone and brought up his contact info—Big Dick DeSantis—and it made me laugh. Maybe I wouldn’t cancel. A little wine and laughter with Henry sounded pretty damn good right now. It might not solve any of my problems, but they weren’t going to get worse while I was gone, right?

  And it’s not like we had to have sex. We could just talk. He could start teaching me. I just liked being around him.

  After getting the kids supplied with snacks and drinks and blankets in the family room, I told my dad I was going over to the winery to help Henry with something.

  “This late on a Sunday?” My dad’s brow furrowed as he settled on one end of the couch, opposite Keaton. “What on earth is he still doing there?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, hurrying away before he could ask any more questions. “But I won’t be long.”

  I bundled up and walked over to the winery. Henry’s truck was in the lot, but since it wasn’t totally covered in snow I knew he must have left at some point and come back. I wondered if he’d eaten dinner out or at home alone.

  When I reached the large glass door, I looked inside, but didn’t see him right away. I pulled the handle, surprised to find he’d left it open. He appeared at the top of the cellar stairs as it closed behind me.

  “Hey,” he said, a smile on his face. “You made it.”

  “I made it.” My heart tripped faster at the sight of him, and my insides tightened. I pulled off my hat and gloves, setting them on a high-top table.

  He approached and glanced behind me. “Alone, right?”

  “Alone.”

  “Good.” He locked the door, switched off the overhead lights, and took me in his arms. When his lips met mine, rekindling the fire inside me, I knew I hadn’t come here just to talk.

  I’d come here to feel.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back until we were both breathless and hot and frustrated by the bulky layers of clothing between us.

  “Come here,” he said, taking me by the hand. Making our way through the dark, he brought me to the steps and led me down into the cellar. He took me past the steel tanks and rows of oak barrels to his office door, shouldered it open, and tugged me inside the small, dark room.

  “Lesson one,” he said, shutting the door behind me. “Never let the winemaker get you in his office after hours.”

  I laughed as he unzipped my coat and tossed it aside.

  “Lesson two,” he went on, lifting my sweater over my head and unhooking my bra. “Do not, under any circumstances, allow him to undress you.”

  “I think I’m going to fail this course,” I murmured as he knelt down and yanked my boots off.

  “Lesson three.” He unzipped my jeans and shimmied them down my legs. “If he tells you he can’t stop thinking about the way you taste and needs to find out if it was really as good as he remembers, beware.”

  “Beware of what?” I asked as he took me by the hips and backed me up to his desk.

  “His motives.” Henry lifted me up and set me on the edge of the desk, pushing my thighs apart and dropping to his knees. “They are likely nefarious.”

  “Nefarious?” Then I gasped when his tongue swept across my clit.

  “Yes.” He did it again, one long, slow stroke that made my entire body shiver. “He just wants to fuck you with his tongue.”

  I fell back onto my elbows and moaned as he tantalized me. “He does?”

  “Yes. But also with his cock.”

  “Good,” I said, barely able to speak. “Because I heard he’s got a big dick.”

  “He does. And it’s getting bigger by the minute.”

  I laughed, my head falling back as he hooked his arms beneath my thighs and pulled me closer to his mouth. My toes curled as he plunged his tongue inside me. He devoured me like he’d been starving for me. He licked and stroked and sucked and caressed me with his tongue, moaning as if I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. He told me he couldn’t get enough. He made me believe it was true.

  After he made me come with his mouth, he jumped to his feet and unbuckled his belt. “Let me,” I panted, unbuttoning and then unzipping his jeans. I reached for his cock and it burst from his boxer briefs as if it had been freed from its cage. He groaned as I sheathed it with both hands, working them up and down his hot, hard length. “Take off your shirt,” I demanded. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

  A minute later, he was pushing inside me, my legs wrapped around him, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady. I grabbed on to his thick, muscular shoulders, digging my fingers into his skin. He lifted me off the desk and put my back against the door, driving his cock deep inside me with quick, powerful thrusts. I winced as my head banged against the wood.

  But it felt so good to be the object of this raging lust inside him—to inspire this aching need to ravish me so completely. He buried himself even deeper and stayed there, grinding against me, bringing me right back to the edge of another orgasm.

  Breathing hard, he tipped his forehead to mine. “You feel too fucking good. I have to slow down.”

  “No, don’t stop,” I begged, circling my hips. “I want you to come.”

  A growl erupted from the back of his throat as he resumed his quick, hard rhythm, my back pounding against the door. All the muscles in my lower body clenched up tight as I reached the peak and stayed there for a moment, suspended, heart racing, eyes closed, breath stopped—until I felt his cock surge and throb inside me, pushing me past the breaking point. His lips hovered close to mine and we shared a breath as our bodies surrendered to one powerful, all-consuming pulse.

  This, I thought to myself, as chills swept across my skin. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is what I’ve been missing. This is what I want.

  Was there any possible way I could have it for keeps?

  * * *

  After we got dressed, Henry did spend some time showing me around the winery, telling me what all the equipment was for, describing what wines were in each group of barrels or tanks, showing off the recently purchased bottling line. “But the most important thing coming up for me is the pruning,” he said as we stood by the huge windows in the tasting room that overlooked the vineyard. “The quality of any vintage can be dictated by how well we prune, and we do it all by hand.”

  I hid a smile. “I’ve heard it’s an art form.”

  He threw an arm around me, getting me in an affectionate headlock. “Are you making fun of the teacher?”

  “I would never,” I said, laughing as he squeezed me tight. “Not after such an enjoyable class, although I’m not sure I learned all my lessons. I might need a review session.”

  “That can definitely be arranged—maybe even tonight.” He loosened his hold on me just enough for me to turn and face him.

  “I wish I could,” I said, running my hands up his chest, “but I have to head back. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I should come tonight. I almost canceled.”

  “Why?”

  I shook my head. “Just some stuff with Whitney.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I played with one of the buttons on his shirt
. “I don’t want to bore you with my problems. I feel like I’m always complaining to you.”

  “Stop.” He lifted my chin. “You never bore me. And it’s not complaining—I asked. Is everything okay?”

  “She’s okay. She just broke a rule I have about social media—she’s not allowed to have it, but I found out that she created an Instagram account and posted a bunch of pictures of herself.”

  He looked slightly terrified. “What kind of pictures?”

  “Nothing risqué. Mostly just her face in full makeup, lots of pouting selfies. And her bio said something like, ‘I’m just a girl who wants to feel beautiful.’”

  “Oh.”

  “But it won’t help to have her mother scream at her that she is beautiful.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I know it’s nothing a million other teenage girls aren’t doing, but I don’t like it. And I hate that she’s hiding it from me. I want her to feel like she can talk to me about anything.”

  “Are you thinking this has something to do with the divorce? Like she’s acting out to get your attention?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s more like . . . like she’s lacking something and she thinks likes on Instagram are going to deliver it. The divorce left this giant hole in all of us where our family used to be, and we’re all trying to deal with it in different ways. Whitney’s trying to cover it with makeup, Keaton is trying to stuff it with junk food, and I’m . . .” I groped for words.

  “Trying to fill it with a big dick?” He frowned. “Sorry, that was totally inappropriate.”

  I laughed. “But not entirely inaccurate. I do think what we’re doing is helping me get over some of my issues. But I’m an adult. Whitney is still a child. And she’s in such a fragile state right now, one mean comment might destroy her. And people can be horrible on social media. I just want to protect her.”

  Henry pulled me in close and held me tight. “I know. And I shouldn’t make jokes. You guys have been through so much.”

  I rested my cheek on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist, wishing I could take the warm strength of his embrace with me when I left here tonight. “Thanks for being here for me. I really appreciate it.”