Like Lovers Do

by Tracey Livesay

  “I can see you, all pissed off and indignant, curls probably shaking.”

  “Pretty much. I’d already reached my full height,” she said ruefully, gesturing to her height. “As for the curls . . . It was the last time I wore my hair natural for a while.”

  He frowned and turned to her. “What do you mean?”

  “I straightened my hair for years after that.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  She did. She just didn’t want to talk about it.

  He looked upset. He reached out to grab a curl and fingered it, as if the thought of it not being in existence hurt him. “What happened next?”

  “There were dozens of beautiful young girls hanging around in the living room and going up and down the stairs.” They were varied ages and different races, but they still seemed interchangeable: straight hair, pearls, and a spectrum of Southern ladylike looks. “One of the girls stopped me. Told me I couldn’t be there. That I didn’t belong.”

  Even now, over eighteen years later, she could still feel that mixture of anger and humiliation. Could see the contempt in the girl’s eyes, the curl of her pink lips, the toss of her chunky highlighted hair. Nic curled her fingers into her fists.

  “I’m not blaming her, but Tinsley reminds me of those girls. Gatekeepers of appropriateness, telling me that I don’t belong. Here . . . or with you.”

  “Nic.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You belong anyplace you want to be. Because of who you are. You command every room you walk into. As for the other issue, the only people who matter in the discussion of whether we belong together are you and me.”

  Ordinarily, she knew that. She believed that. Hell, she’d stand up to anyone who said different. But the mixture of her burgeoning feelings for Ben and the specter of Tinsley had coalesced into her self-esteem’s kryptonite.

  “But she wants you back. You have history and you’re from the same world.” She lowered her lashes. “Why won’t you consider it?”

  She hated the insecure tone in her voice. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t some high school girl needing reassurance from her boyfriend. Still, she held her breath, afraid of the answer, but yearning to know. She wasn’t brave enough to examine why.

  “Because we’ve always wanted different things out of life. That hasn’t changed, even if we’ve grown older.”

  It wasn’t the clear declaration she was looking for, but it was enough. For now.

  “And I meant what I said earlier. In fact, I’d already called my father about your fellowship. He promised to look into it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was waiting for it to be a done deal before I told you.”

  “Thank you.” She slid into his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest, reveling in his strong and even heartbeat. Safe. He made her feel safe. “And I didn’t mean what I said about this only being about our arrangement.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

  “I hope you’ll let me make it up to you,” she said, withdrawing from his embrace and locking her fingers with his. Tingles bloomed where their skin touched and moisture gathered between her thighs.

  She wanted him.

  Now.

  She glanced from their joined hands up to his face where the heat in his gaze scorched her and broadcasted his interest. Slowly, she pulled him back into the room and maneuvered him over to their bed. She pushed him until he sat on the edge of the mattress. She braced her hands on his thighs, then spread them while simultaneously dropping to her knees.

  He inhaled sharply and she smiled, her belly clenching in anticipation. Finally, she could spend some quality time with his gorgeous cock in her mouth. She slid her hands through the crisp hairs feathering his skin toward the thickening bulge in his shorts. She fondled him through the fabric, teasing both of them until she slipped her fingers inside and pulled out his dick.

  Yes, please.

  She stroked him slowly but ardently, not relenting even when his hips lifted to meet her pumps.

  “Fuck, Nic,” he groaned.

  She squirmed, receiving the words like loving pats against her throbbing pussy. She glanced up at him through her lashes and stilled at the torrent of hunger cascading down on her. She shivered.

  This man undid her.

  “Lie back and relax, Van Mont. I got you,” she murmured, before lowering her head and sliding her tongue along his hard, thick shaft.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “What about this?” Nic held up a black velvet sleeping mask with the word “Snoozing” written on the strap. “This is so Ava. Of all of us, she’s the one who treasures her sleep the most. She travels with a Do Not Disturb aura.”

  Ben frowned and scratched his cheek. “You can get a sleep mask anywhere. Don’t you want to get her, all of your friends, something specific to the Vineyard?”

  Nic pursed her glossed lips. “Hmmm, you mean like a tie-dye sweatshirt or a rainbow beach towel with ‘Martha’s Vineyard’ scrawled across it?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. We’re not twelve years old and visiting Myrtle Beach.” She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. “But thank you for caring.”

  The hum of attraction skimmed along his skin making him extra aware of her. Of how she looked, moved, smelled. Their argument yesterday bothered him because they never fought. He’d gotten used to being the one she turned to when she was upset. To be the one on the other side didn’t sit well with him.

  She held up a Ruth Bader Ginsberg cross-stitch kit then a framed print that read “Put the Seat Down, You Fucker,” as if weighing her options, then sighed. “I may be a while. You don’t have to wait in here for me. Is there anything you’d rather be doing?”

  He moved close to her and whispered in her ear. “Yes, but I need you to do it and I’d rather not do it here, although . . . I’m not opposed to a little PDA.”

  She laughed. “Let me rephrase. Is there any sightseeing or shopping you’d like to do on your own?”

  “In that case, no.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll be sitting outside at one of the cafe tables next door. Take your time.”

  It was a lovely day on their coastal island, the sun shining bright, the weather temperate. Couples strolled the beautiful old historic streets, peeping in boutiques and art galleries while families sat at many of the outdoor eating venues talking and laughing. He settled onto a metal-and-wood chair and began confirming their travel arrangements for tomorrow.

  Just as he’d promised, he’d booked them on a flight back to avoid a repeat occurrence of Nic’s seasickness. With those plans confirmed, he checked his email to see if any issues had arisen at work. He and Ezra talked once a day, usually in the morning, to handle any questions or situations that came up the preceding day.

  He was just replying to the email his assistant had forwarded him confirming some meetings next week when a voice calling his name caused his fingers to freeze midair.

  “Benjamin! I thought that was you.”

  His mother stood in front of him, polished in white pants and a pink blouse, a triumphant smile on her face.

  A sudden ache throbbed in the back of his throat. He stood and kissed her on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where else would we be?”

  Anywhere I’m not.

  Fortunately, her question was rhetorical. Fallon continued, “You called your father with a cryptic request and I remembered when I visited you last week you asked me about the same person. We wanted to get to the bottom of this little mystery.”

  That was unexpected. It had been years since they’d taken the time to seek the reason behind anything he asked.

  “I thought you were in New York.”

  “I am. That’s why it was so easy to hop up here on a quick weekend jaunt. Now”—she sat down, crossing one leg over the other—“what’s so important about this James Newman at Duke?”

 
He clenched his teeth, unsure of how to respond. This personal interest in something he was doing was new.

  “What the hell? I got them all. I even threw in that jute fabric tote with ‘Martha’s Vineyard’ written on it. Happy?” Nic asked, peering into the plastic bag in her hand. She looked up and her brows rose. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Ben rose again. “You’re not. Nic, this is my mother, Dr. Fallon Rothschild Van Mont. Mother, this is my friend, Nic.”

  Nic’s smile illuminated her entire face. “Doctor Van Mont. It’s an honor to meet you. I enjoyed your paper on the impact of new technology on cardiothoracic surgical practices.”

  Fallon shook Nic’s hand, expertly scanning her from the top of her curly hair, down to her “Started from the Bottom” T-shirt, past her cut-off Levi’s and the black Converses covering her feet. “You read my paper?”

  Nic gave a brisk nod. “I did. It’s an interest of mine. Emerging technology impacts orthopedics, too, whether it’s the next great implant or a new care delivery model. It represents an opportunity to improve quality and access to care for our patients.”

  “Orthopedics?” Fallon shifted her gaze back to Ben.

  “Surgery. I just finished my residency at Johns Hopkins. I’m supposed to start a fellowship in sports medicine surgery at Duke.”

  “Ah,” Fallon said. “You’re the reason behind Benjamin’s curious inquiry.”

  Shit. “Sorry. Yes, this is Dr. Nicole Allen.”

  Nic’s smile dimmed a fraction. “He was doing me a favor.”

  “And I appreciate the two of you doing me that favor.” Ben looked around. “Is Father here with you?”

  “No. It’s just me. There’s a charming little bookstore with a great coffeeshop attached not too far from here. Would you care to join me for a cup?”

  “We’d love to,” Nic said.

  The last thing he wanted was for Nic to spend time with him and his mother. “Can you give us a moment?”

  Fallon adjusted the printed scarf wrapped around the handle of her purse. “A brief one, Benjamin.”

  Placing his hand on the small of Nic’s back, he escorted her to the side. “You don’t have to do this. Take the car and head back to the house.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Her eyes shone with the light of fanaticism usually seen in the recently converted. “Dr. Fallon Rothschild Van Mont invited me to have coffee with her. She’s a genius. Plus, she’s my best chance to save my fellowship. There’s no way I’m turning down this opportunity.”

  Fuck! He knew that worshipful look. “I understand, but you don’t know her like I do.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “She was perfectly pleasant.”

  “You’ve spoken to her for five minutes. I’ve had over thirty years. Trust me that I know her better than you do,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair. “I will talk to her and close this deal, I promise.”

  Nic set her jaw and advanced into his personal space. “I appreciate your help, Ben. But the best person to advocate for me is me.”

  This wasn’t a good idea but he recognized that firm tilt to her chin. Nic was determined to go; she wouldn’t back down. He’d do his best to try to keep everyone on topic.

  They found the cafe on Main Street. It was a hidden garden oasis where thick foliage-lined trellis fencing offered privacy while sail awnings and string lights lent the space an inviting, secluded feel. They got their coffees and grabbed one of the few remaining tables.

  “Have you been to the Vineyard before?” Fallon asked Nic.

  “No. This is my first time.”

  “We’ve been coming here for years, since before Benjamin was born. We have a house here but he chose not to stay there.”

  “I didn’t know that but you don’t have to worry. Palmer’s house is gorgeous.”

  “You’re staying with Palmer, too?” Fallon took a sip of coffee and eyed Ben over the rim.

  Damn. When he’d left the message for his father, Ben hadn’t gone into detail about the nature and closeness of his relationship with Nic. He didn’t think his parents would give his request enough thought for it to matter. But now with his mother subjecting them to the same scrutiny as her surgeries, he wished he’d come up with a better cover story.

  “We’re all there,” he said.

  “I know. You mentioned that the last time we talked.” Fallon shifted back in her chair, crossed her legs and asked Nic, “Have you enjoyed your time here?”

  “I have.” Nic must have sensed the undercurrents because she glanced at him, a frown sullying her features before continuing, “It’s a beautiful place.”

  “That it is,” Fallon murmured.

  Ben couldn’t tell what his mother was thinking and that bothered him.

  “Tell me about yourself, Nicole.”

  “I went to college and med school at the University of Virginia and, as I mentioned, I just completed my residency at Johns Hopkins.”

  Nic’s earlier excitement had vanished along with his hope to shelter her from witnessing his family dynamic. The tension present when he interacted with his parents could smother joy and suck the air out of any room they occupied.

  He also noted that she didn’t respond with information about her hobbies, what she liked or disliked. She’d gone straight to her profession.

  That was Nic in a nutshell.

  “I assume that’s how you know Benjamin?”

  “Yes,” he said, heeding the instinct to protect their nascent relationship.

  Nic must’ve gotten the message because she didn’t elaborate.

  Fallon’s pursed lips showed her annoyance, but she continued, “And your family? Where are you from?”

  “Tennessee. A small town north of Memphis. As for family, it’s just me and my mom.”

  “Did your father pass away?”

  Nic’s expression tightened. “I don’t know.”

  And her tone made it clear that she wasn’t interested in continuing that line of conversation.

  He stepped into the verbal void, a role he was so comfortable in, he did it unconsciously. “Nic’s a brilliant doctor. She didn’t just finish her residency, she was actually chief resident.”

  He wanted to draw the attention away from Nic’s family and put it back on her work where he knew she wanted it to be. His parents weren’t the most evolved people and he worried that his mother would make a comment that betrayed her lack of empathy.

  The tactic worked.

  “Chief resident? That’s an impressive achievement. You must be really good at what you do to receive that accolade.”

  “Thank you,” Nic said, appearing pleased by the compliment.

  “I wish Benjamin had your same work ethic. Who knows how far he could’ve gone.”

  Now that was the type of comment he expected from his mother. Ben narrowed his eyes, but he held his tongue.

  This isn’t about you. You can endure anything if it means helping Nic.

  “Why did you need us to speak to Dr. Newman at Duke?”

  Nic answered before he could. “I was accepted into his fellowship program, but the parent of an intern I disciplined threatened to smear my name.”

  “I abhor the way politics interfere in the practice of medicine. If you were already accepted into the fellowship by your merits, you shouldn’t be denied what you achieved because of someone’s hurt feelings.” Fallon set her cup down. “I’d be happy to make a call on your behalf.”

  Nic laid a hand over her heart. “You don’t know what this means to me, Dr. Van Mont. Thank you so much.”

  “Yes, Mother. Thank you.” That had gone better than he’d anticipated. “If you could call as soon as possible, that would be great. Nic starts in a few weeks. I’ll text you a reminder—”

  “I’m one of the top surgeons in the country,” Fallon said. “I’m quite capable of remembering what I’ll need to do, Benjamin.”

  “Your father and I are very important people, Benjamin! Our patients need u
s. Are your wants more important than theirs? Isn’t that a bit selfish? Sacrifices must be made.”

  Heat singed his cheeks but he refused to look at Nic. He hated that she was seeing this.

  Beneath the table Nic’s hand landed on his thigh and squeezed. That show of support warmed him more than she could ever know.

  She cleared her throat. “Ben mentioned you were in New York for a research project. What are you working on?”

  Fallon brightened. “I’m working with the Thoracic Oncology Research Laboratory. They’re interested in the biology of non-small cell lung cancer and aggressive malignant tumors of the chest lining.”

  “Mesothelioma,” Nic said, nodding.

  “Yes. They’re actively investigating complementary aspects of lung cancer biology at the single-cell level while also looking at the critical cell signaling networks contributing to the development of the disease.”

  Nic leaned forward. “How fascinating. A breakthrough there could help develop more effective patient-specific therapies.”

  “Exactly . . .”

  Watching Nic and his mother’s discussion, he couldn’t help but notice their identical absorbed expressions. He knew Nic’s work was important to her, but this was the first time he’d seen her interacting with a peer.

  It was eerily familiar.

  “I need to be going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Nicole. It’s so nice to be able to discuss my work in such pleasant surroundings. Benjamin never shows the least bit of interest.”

  Death by a thousand paper cuts.

  “I thought I was doing us both a favor,” he said, lightly. They’d almost made it through the encounter. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the feat they’d accomplished. “You don’t want to hear about my work, either.”

  “Come now. Your father and I save lives. What you do isn’t comparable.”

  Fuck.

  He’d been clenching his jaw so often, he’d probably worn down the top layer of enamel on his molars. Resentment curdled in his stomach. How many times did he need to hear proof of his parents’ disrespect for him and what he did before it stopped hurting?

  Nicole glanced at him, her expression full of sympathy and concern.