Hale on Earth (Arrangement Series Book 2)

by Francesca Penn

I don’t have to look because I have the lineup committed to memory.

  “Two Weeks Notice, 13 Going on 30, You’ve Got Mail, How to Lose a Guy in 10 days, and Monster-in-Law.”

  Karessa stares at me for a second, then presses her palm to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You know those are all considered chick flicks, right?”

  “I know. They were her favorite.”

  I’m glad I don’t have to elaborate. She looks at me with eyes full of sympathy, but she doesn’t speak. Instinctively, she gives me the silence I need. It’s the anniversary of the worst call of my life. Around this time twelve years ago, I found out I’ll never see my mother again. I remember rushing to the hospital praying that it was a clerical error. Surely they’ve gotten the wrong Bethany. In no way could my brain process life without my mother.

  The same numb feeling I’d felt that night carried me through the first movie, anger through the next, the pain I’d felt once they covered her with a sheet and rolled her out of the room hit me in the middle of the third movie. I’m so lost in the melancholy the memory brings that I don’t realize I’m crying until Karessa pulls my head onto a pillow in her lap. She remains silent and just runs her fingers through my hair while I breakdown. Twelve years and this day still squeezes my soul out of me, beats the hell up, then shoves it back inside. The only love I’ve felt left that day. Maybe, if I had love from another source, it wouldn’t hurt so much, but the demon that killed her was all I had left. He wasn’t diagnosed, but I feel Elmer is a sociopath. I’ve never seen the concern, sadness, or empathy he’s supposed to feel since her death. While they were married, he took from her until her natural sunshine dimmed. I wish she’d never found him.

  My mom was born in the United States, she’d visited Founders Island where my dad fed her with lies until she had a vacation affair with him. She’d found out she was pregnant with me when she returned home. She’d seen enough bad in him to not tell him. We weren’t rich, but we had each other and those were the best years of my life. When I was thirteen, she found out she had lupus, a condition she could live with for a long time, but treatment was more money than she had.

  After some negotiations, she moved to Founders Island where she introduced me to my sperm donor. He wouldn’t acknowledge me. He referred to me as the boy until the DNA results confirmed my mom was telling the truth. He seemed nice at first, artificial, but nice. Slowly, he began to show his true self, calling her lazy when she had flair ups, and he acted like a victim in public. He was successful for a few years. People believed my mom was some con artist who hid a child to get a big payday. They believed my dad had to marry her to avoid going bankrupt from her demands.

  My mom hated to leave the house, and he’d drag me to the events to be around the other children. Jagger and I hit it off immediately and have been inseparable ever since. As two early teens who had deep-rooted issues with our fathers, we had a lot in common.

  Eventually his lies unraveled and my mom was more accepted. First by the LeClaires, then the rest. My mom and I would get invited and Elmer by proxy, but I never truly felt like one of them. One night we’d returned from an event and he tried to choke her for stealing his spotlight.

  He was a big man, but I jumped between them and told him he’d have to fight both of us. Elmer likes to bully and intimidate, then use his charm to control. He doesn’t do well with being challenged. He found other ways to hurt my mother like “losing” her medication so she’d get a bad flare up and not want to leave the house because it was too painful. It’d taken me a while to figure it out because she only wanted me to think happy thoughts. We’d hang out watching romantic comedies because she was still a hopeless romantic who believed in love and the goodness of others despite being married to the worst husband in the world.

  People asked for at the events we’d missed and Elmer hated our still being preferred over him even in our absence. He’d give her medication conditionally in exchange for housework, sex, or whatever else he wanted. I was pissed when I found out she was keeping this from me. He’d fucked around with her medication so much, she’d gone into kidney failure. I wasn’t a match, and she waited on the transplant list. It’s harder when you have a condition that causes it. But that asshole was messing with her dialysis appointments. I took over, and started taking her, but she kept pushing me to learn the family business and finish college. After I fought her on it, we’d gotten on a regular schedule. Jagger would assist when I needed him. She was looking and feeling better.

  The night she died, I’d just checked on her. She had a cold, but she learned not to take medications because most of them had pain medications she couldn’t have. Instead of giving her warm water with lemon, Elmer gave her a flu relief tea. She never woke up.

  We sit in silence after the third movie; the tears drying on my face makes my skin feel tight.

  “Don’t think about it and tell me the first happy memory that comes to mind.”

  Crap, her similarities to my mother messes me up sometimes. I have a lot of happy memories with her.

  My voice is shaky and raw when I respond. “I don’t have a specific moment but a series of moments. Like when we’d dinner cook together, she’d call me her Sous Chef. She’d asked me about my day, which was code for, tell me all your secrets. She wanted to know it all. What I learned, who’s my favorite teacher, what girl I liked that week… everything. Aside from Jagger, she was the only person I could just talk to about anything.” I wipe my face with a tissue. “More than that, she was my confidant, advisor, cheerleader, and number one fan. I miss her so damn much. When I had issues I didn’t want to discuss, she’d sit me down and do a crossword, a puzzle, or play a game of scrabble until I worked it out in my head or was ready to talk. I don’t have that now.”

  I press play on the next movie, not wanting to talk anymore. We’re reflective through it and I feel some of my fog clearing. When the last movie of the night begins. I can feel myself smiling. Monster-in-Law is about a mother having issues letting go of her only son when he gets engaged, and now I’m watching it with my wife. I look up at her.

  “You know, my mom threatened to be like Jane Fonda when it was time for me to get married. She said she’d try to like my wife but couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t give her hell.”

  Karessa smiles at the thought. “She’d be proud because you give me enough hell for both of you.”

  I’m surprised that I’m laughing. “Just for that, I’m not helping you find your keys.”

  “You mean the keys you hid?”

  Turning back to my side, I continue to watch the movie. “I cannot confirm or deny that.”

  “Don’t worry. Tomorrow when our truce is over, I will shave your eyebrows.”

  “Haven’t you learned by now? I’m good at battling.”

  She pats my head like I’m mistaken. “And you, sir, forget I have two sisters. I trained my most of my life for this.”

  Chapter 15

  Oran

  The last two days have been relatively comfortable. We haven’t sabotaged each other, and she’d made us dinner tonight. I don’t want to get attached and I don’t want her to get attached; I want her to be free and live the life she wanted. Us getting along like a normal couple sans sex makes me want that for her more. I also want her more in ways that wouldn’t set her free.

  I find the perfect word to finish the crossword on my phone and come up with a solution. If we can make it through to annulment, I’ll ask her out. If I win her over, It’d be better marrying on her terms and I won’t feel like an accomplice in this wedding scam. The information is there for her to read in her prenup but she hasn’t read it. I can tell by the way she’s looking at me as we finish dinner.

  This is harder than the war. Being vulnerable in front of her has her thinking we’re bonding. Bonding leads to trust and shit. Also, she looks ready to try again. Karessa touches me more now. Slight touches like running her hand along my shoulder when she put my plate in front of me or kissin
g me on the cheek when she leaves the house.

  This needs to stop.

  “Are you coming to bed?” she inquires from the bedroom.

  This is the shit I’m talking about.

  “Yeah. In a bit,” I respond coolly although I feel low level panic.

  There aren’t many more times I’ll be able to turn her down. It will be painful for both of us, but I must push her back. She’s too comfortable. We’re too comfortable. While it’s hard to hate her, it’s even harder not to fall for her.

  She’s in bed wearing a silky robe. I’m sad to see her hair down. She may think I don’t pay attention, but I’ve learned that when she’s truly ready for bed, she’d have on a headscarf or a similar wrap. I checked with Jagger, Ainslee does the same.

  Bee-lining to the bathroom, I take my sweet time getting ready for bed while praying she’d just go to sleep or read her damn prenup.

  The lights are out once I’m done. Using the flashlight on my phone, I climb into bed and relax on my back.

  Her soft body warms my side as she rolls over and drapes her arm over my waist and abdomen.

  “Hold me, Oran,” she coos.

  Fuck. I roll on my side facing her while letting out a long aggravated sigh. Hoping it’ll start one of those why-are-you-breathing-like-that arguments; it doesn’t.

  Her soft hand caresses my jaw for a second, then her pouty lips cover mine. I give in, taking the kiss and giving it back. Her sweet tongue has me falling deeper into the kiss, giving into my craving. Karessa’s hands are fisting my black strands as my fingers dig into the dip of her hip. I continue to take, stealing kisses meant for her real husband and not the imitation that I am. My irritation has me nipping her lip, and her moan pisses me off.

  Why does she like that shit? Why do I want her to like it?

  I give her my frustrations: my fingers branding, pulling her hair, adding pressure to my bites. She takes it all and pushes for more. Climbing on top of me, she rubs what I discover is her bare pussy on my hard dick through my pajamas bottoms. I’m mad I want what she is offering so bad, I snap and pull my mouth away from hers.

  “Dammit, Trophy. How many times do I have to say no? It’s not happening. Put your pussy on ice or something.”

  I hear her quick intake of the breath. She hisses.

  “You big asshole.” And harshly palms my face as she climbs off.

  She rolls to her side facing away from me and I wonder if I went too far. I want to keep her in her place, but I don’t want her to hate me.

  She’s abnormally quiet. Too quiet. The silence rages between us until I hear her sniff. Karessa climbs out of bed and I hear the soft click of the bathroom door.

  I am a big asshole.

  * * *

  Karessa

  I shut the bathroom door. The pain of rejection stings as it tears and rips at my skin. Hell is killing me. Not only is he grumpy, but he refuses to give me the one thing he’s been threatening to give me. He shattered my hope to maybe keep the truce by making love into irreplaceable pieces. Oran will never want me the way I want him. I cover my mouth with my palm to mute my sobs, my tears run hotly down my cheeks and over my hand as I struggle for composure. This can’t be my life.

  The click of the door has me turning to my vanity. Rifling through my makeup bag, I pretend to look for something to avoid dealing with Hell. I stop breathing once I feel his heat on my back. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me to his hard body, and I stiffen. I do not want pity sex.

  “Karessa,” his voice warbles as if saying my name is torture. My pulse quickens. Outside of your vows, I haven’t heard my name off his lips. This time, it’s a pained whisper just below my ear as his beard tickles my neck. “Karessa…”

  It’s too much. I try to move away but his grip is tight but his palm splayed on my abdomen is gentle.

  “Would it kill you to do something for me?”

  He doesn’t answer me at first. His heart beats against my back. His fingers create a trail of goosebumps as they slide down my left arm then circle my wrist. His breathing is so relaxed and even that I’ve accepted the notion of him

  ignoring me.

  “You do not understand how much I do for you,” his response is soft, his warm lips kissing my ring finger just above my wedding band is endearing and confusing. “You’re hurting your own feelings.”

  “How? By expecting my husband to have sex with me?” I bite out while trying to withhold my tears.

  “Yes. You’re doing it again,” he tells me.

  “Doing what?” I’m hurt, aroused, and confused.

  “Blindly trusting the people in your life. Not being aware.” His free hand cups my chin and tilts my head back until my lips are near his. “Do you really think I’d willingly pass up fucking you?”

  No. “That’s exactly what you just did!”

  He doesn’t release his hold on my chin, but his hand slides past the nightie to my bare skin underneath. My nipples bead, achingly begging for Oran’s attention. He makes me hold his gaze when he pushes two of his fingers inside of me. He licks my open lips when I gasp. The delicious mix of pain and pleasure stops my breathing. Oran’s pained groan makes me shiver.

  “Wrong again, Trophy.” His nips of my bottom lip almost make me forget what we’re talking about. The friction of his big fingers pumping inside of me has me no longer caring, but my brain refuses to push it aside.

  “How?” I whimper.

  Oran slides his wet digits along my hard, needy clit, taking me to a place where I don’t care that I’m undulating my hips to chase the high I’ve been dying to get from him. His erection pokes my ass. Reaching behind me, I rub the part of him I’ve been trying to meet. His accompanying growl has an invisible knot in my belly forming.

  “Enlighten me,” I beg on the cusp of an orgasm.

  “Read the fine print on your prenup, Princess.” He bites the junction of my neck and brings me close to exploding. His hand drops from my neck to tease my nipples over their silky barrier. “If you fuck me, it’ll be official and you’re mine forever.” He presses harder as he finger-fucks me. “If you abstain for six months, we can annul it.”

  The way he fucks me with his fingers, rough in ways I never knew I wanted, has me on the brink of one of my biggest orgasms, but his words rip me apart a little more. My body wants what it craves. My release breaks on a sob as I cum on his fingers while cursing the unfairness of my situation.

  If I have sex with him, I’m stuck with him forever. If I don’t, I get to leave in a few months but still crave him. I can’t win.

  Oran rubs himself on the hand still gripping him. “If you want this dick, be content with belonging to me for the rest of our lives.” Removing his hand and stepping out of my reach he continues his statement. “Or keep your legs closed and return to your normal life.”

  He’s gone as quickly as he made me cum.

  What the fuck and I supposed to do?

  Chapter 16

  Oran

  I’d tried sleeping on the air mattress but gave up and opted for the floor. Things are too charged. If I’d joined her in bed, I know we wouldn’t have made it through the night. Now that she knows the stakes, she can make her own decisions. Still, the memory of how she came for me plays in a loop on my head.

  The sounds she made mixed with her beautiful face wrapped in ecstasy had me cuming in my hand. I tried to avoid it, but it was impossible to go to sleep without relieving the ache in my dick.

  Stretching to ease the discomfort in my shoulders and back, I get up to start my day. She’s not cooking - not that I thought she would - but the rest of the house is quiet. Once I shower, dress, and leave for work I’m convinced she’d left long before I woke up.

  I just don’t know where she went. I check my phone once I’m in the car. No texts or missed calls.

  Once the work calls started rolling in signaling a busy day, I opt to let her have her space. She’ll let me know when she’s ready.

  * * *
<
br />   Karessa

  Imala opens her door and blinks at me a few times. I feel bad that my presence is a surprise to her. With our different interests and her being almost five years younger than me, we don’t see each other as much as we should. Then, I was banished to Hell and didn’t really mingle at my wedding because I left early.

  “Hey sis,” I greet her with a hug. “I know I’ve been in my own world, and I might sound like a selfish bitch, but I need your help.”

  Imala smirks and pushes her glasses up on her nose.

  “I’m totally taking the big sister title for now.”

  I laugh and hug her once more. “Go ahead, I’m a mess and incapable of leadership.”

  Imala is responsible and levelheaded. Esme and I always joke about her being the older sister.

  She waves me into the condo she was smart enough to buy. It’s girly yet simple. Low fuss, just like her.

  Her wavy hair is clipped into a low ponytail. She’s like the movie nerd who’s played by the pretty girl pretending to be a nerd.

  We settle on her plush navy couch. It’s so comfortable, I instantly relax. She crosses her ankles, pulls her knees to her chest, and covers them with her oversized t-shirt.

  Esme and I know we all have our momma’s genes and have no problem flaunting it from time to time, but our baby sister wants no parts. She’s more interested in learning something new. We’d put her on dating apps, but she’d ignore or block the interested guys. We don’t talk about it, but I’m sure she’s a virgin.

  “Whatcha got?” she asks when her curiosity takes over.

  I pull out my prenup and pass it over. At that moment, Esme bursts in like she owns the condo - a habit she has at all of our homes.

  “You haven’t read your prenup?” Imala shrieks at my audacity to overlook something so important. Then turns to Esme. “You know that key is for emergencies and not to be used at your leisure.”