by Jewel E. Ann
“Why?”
Beneath the blanket, Ellen rests her hand on mine. She feels his struggle. This was what I wanted to avoid.
“I told you to find your own friend. She’s my friend. You don’t even like her. You gave her a D—a seven—seventy percent.”
Ellen’s fingernails dig into my hand. How kind of him to bring up the seven.
“Harrison, get ready for school. We’ll discuss this later.”
“Dad, you promised—”
“Harrison! We’re done. This conversation is on hold until tonight.”
He grits his teeth and fists his hands as he turns toward the door. After he opens it, he turns back toward us. “Are you going to make cookies?” he asks Ellen.
I cringe. Simon and his fucking-around dad.
“Uh …” Ellen glances over at me.
“Chocolate chip. Gluten free. Dairy free.”
“Harrison, out.”
“When you have sex with men who have children, you’re supposed to bake cookies.”
Ellen stifles a laugh. “I’ll have them hot out of the oven when you get home from school.”
He nods stiffly and shuts the door.
I drop my head in my hands. “Fuck …”
Ellen giggles, collapsing back on the bed.
“It’s not funny. Why didn’t my alarm go off?” I grab my phone from the nightstand. It should have gone off. I toss it aside and nudge her leg with mine. “Get dressed. School. Work. A kid with one sock. This is going to be a long day.”
Ellen rips the blanket from me and cuddles up on the one pillow still on the bed, her back to me. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be for another few hours.” She yawns. “Keep the noise down. I’m going back to sleep.”
“What the fuck? Hello … Harrison’s in the other room. He just walked in on us. Were you not paying attention?”
She tucks her knees to her chest, nuzzling her nose just under the edge of the blanket. “Not my problem. I’m off the hook with a batch of cookies.”
After a few seconds of staring at her back, red hair splayed over my pillow, I realize she’s serious.
“Unbelievable,” I mumble on my way to get in the shower.
Closing my eyes under the stream of hot water, I think of one week with Ellen. It’s not enough. All reasoning says I should not do this—I should not have said yes. She said it herself: we were over before we started. I’m delaying the inevitable. I lost one woman I loved, and I’m going to lose another. But I can’t think about Heidi without thinking of all the times I wished I could have had one more day—one more week.
These are my one-more days. This is my one-more week. It won’t change the future. It won’t cure her dad. It won’t erase fifteen hundred miles. I’d rather have her in my life for the next seven days than not. It’s just that simple.
I do my usual morning grooming and pick out my suit for the day.
“Let me.”
I turn toward the sleepy voice. She’s so fucking beautiful in black panties and no bra, but her green scarf is draped over her shoulders covering her breasts.
“Nice scarf.” I grin.
She smiles, blinking her blue eyes a few times to adjust to the closet light. Taking my suit jacket, she holds it for me to slip in my arms. After she buttons it, she adjusts my tie and grabs the lapels of my jacket.
“Flint Hopkins, you sure do look the part.”
“What part is that?”
A flash of something resembling pain pulls at her brow for less than a second, but she smiles through it. “The one that got away.”
Palming the back of her neck, I press my lips just below her ear, waiting until I feel her pulse. “No one’s getting away for the next week,” I whisper. “I’ll see you later.” I kiss her softly on the lips and snap the scarf off her neck, giving her a wicked grin before tossing it on the bed as I walk out of the room.
*
Ellen
I STAY IN Flint’s bed, occasionally drifting off to sleep, occasionally shedding a few tears. In twenty-four hours he completely took my heart in the Hail Mary of all Hail Mary passes. The man who feels unworthy of true happiness laid his whole heart open for me. I’m not sure what hurt most, the desperation in his eyes when he told me he loved me or the realization on his face when it became clear that no amount of love could keep me here.
I’ve simply loved my father my whole life. There’s nothing to contemplate.
By nine, I put on my clothes and drive home for a shower and time with my babies. After lunch I get everything settled with the hospital. I signed a contract with them, but they let me out of it, given the circumstances. I need to type out a letter to my other clients who have already been referred to another therapist temporarily. It’s now permanent. But I leave that for tomorrow. I have to feed my babies and pick up ingredients for cookies.
*
“COOKIES.” HARRISON GRINS as he comes in the back door a little before four with Flint right behind him.
“Wash your hands,” Flint says.
“Yeah, yeah …” Harrison ditches his bag and disappears into the bathroom.
“Smells good.” Flint eyes me. I’m not sure if he’s talking about the cookies or not. The comment fits the cookie scenario, but his eyes portray a different kind of hunger.
“Warm and moist.” I wiggle my eyebrows, taking one from the cooling rack and sinking my teeth into it.
Flint gives me a look that makes everything south of my navel feel just as warm and moist. “Two,” Flint warns Harry just as he starts to pile a third cookie onto a small plate.
“They’re my cookies,” Harry murmurs, disappearing up the stairs.
I smirk at Flint. He grabs my wrist and shoves the other half of my cookie into his mouth.
“Mmm … you’ve got baking skills.” He sucks each one of my fingers before releasing my wrist.
“You really need to stop acting so surprised that I have skills. And why are you here so early? It’s not even five.”
“Cookies.” He unbuttons his overcoat.
I laugh. “Cookies? You left work early for cookies?”
“I left work early for the baker.” He hangs up his wool overcoat and slips off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the kitchen chair.
“I’m flattered.” I rest my backside and my hands on the edge of the counter, admiring Sex in a Suit as he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt.
He halts his motions, eyes shifting to the side as he sniffs several times. “It smells like more than just cookies.”
“Dinner’s in the oven.”
“Dinner?” He prowls toward me, caging me with his body as his hands press to the counter next to mine.
Biting my lower lip, I nod several times.
“Harrison-safe?”
I nod. “And I have tickets to the new Spiderman movie.”
Flint quirks a brow. “It’s a school night.”
“Let’s break all the rules. I’ll bake muffins tomorrow and right all of the wrongs.”
He slides his hand around my back and presses me to him, his lips devouring mine, his erection pressed to my belly.
I want this life.
I want Flint showing me his appreciation for baking. I want Harry grinning when he sees cookies on a cooling rack. I want passionate kisses promising long nights of being tangled in each other.
I rub my lips together when he tears his mouth from mine, both of us breathless.
He grins. “I love that you think baked goods make up for breaking the rules.”
I shrug. “It’s worked so far. Maybe you should take freshly baked cookies to the judge or jury on the days you have court.”
“Mmm …” He takes two steps backward to distance us as the stairs creak a bit under Harry’s descent.
“Can we play guitars?” Harry sets his plate on the counter.
“I don’t have mine here, but we can still make music…” I jab my thumb in the direction of the formal living room “…you have a piano
.”
“You play piano?” Harry looks surprised.
I laugh, giving Flint a quick glance. He’s wearing his own smirk of amusement.
“Yes. I play a lot of instruments.”
“Cool.” Harry runs back up to his room.
“How long until dinner?” Flint looks at his watch.
“Forty-five minutes.”
“I’m going to get a run in since I didn’t get one this morning.”
“Should I feel guilty about that?”
Harry jogs back downstairs with his guitar.
Flint winks before heading toward the stairs. “Yes, you should.”
*
I WANT THIS life.
Playing music with Harry. Setting the dinner table for three. Seeing the look on his face when I tell him we’re going to the new Spiderman movie after dinner.
We eat. Harry does his homework while Flint and I clean the kitchen, stealing sexy kisses, sharing flirty looks, and the smiles … I drown in every single one he gives me.
I want this life.
Harry plants himself in the middle at the movie. Flint rolls his eyes. I laugh. On the way home he recaps all the highlights, giving us a detailed account of the special effects.
“Bed,” Flint says the second we walk in the door.
“But—”
“No buts, Harrison. Bed.”
“Is Ellen staying?”
I can’t read him. Is it a question of sheer curiosity or is he being challenging?
“No.” I smile. “I have to tend to my babies, and I need to get some packing done.”
“So no cookies tomorrow?”
Flint shakes his head, and I can’t see his face, but I’m certain there’s an eye roll accompanying it.
“There’s six cookies left.”
Harry frowns. It’s so Flint.
“I’m out of here,” I say on a laugh. The Hopkins boys can sort out their pouty ways without me here. “Goodnight, Harry.” I wrap my arms around him, feeling him stiffen and then relax.
“Night,” he mumbles.
Flint points to the stairs. “Bed.”
“Okay … okay …”
I open the door and Flint follows me out, taking my hand in his. He backs me up to the driver’s door of my car and envelopes me in his arms. He doesn’t speak and neither do I. What could we possibly say? My life has consisted of unexpected, life-changing moments. The familiarity doesn’t ease the pain, but I’ve learned that even when it hurts the most, something or someone comes along to take it away.
“Were you good at football?”
He chuckles, hugging me tighter. “Yes.”
“I knew it.”
“How many planes have you jumped out of?”
“Twenty-three.”
He pulls back, giving me a questioning look.
I shrug. “Truth. It’s an incredible feeling.”
“Yet, you won’t fly.”
I shake my head. “Those twenty-three jumps were before my mom’s plane crashed.”
Flint nods slowly, brow drawn tight.
“I’m going to go feed my babies.”
“Rats.”
“Yes, my rat babies.”
His hands move to my neck; they’re strong, but his touch is tender as he slides them up to my face, pausing briefly to search my eyes before kissing me.
I … want … this … life …
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers over my lips. “I want to be selfish with you …” He brushes his lips over mine again.
I grip his coat to steady myself.
“I…” he closes his eyes as if the pain is too great to bear “…don’t deserve this.” His lips ghost along my cheek, down my jaw to my ear. “But I want it so fucking bad.”
I hold on, letting fate have its way.
Want.
Need.
They feed the pain. They fuel the anger. They also make us stronger when we’re forced to let them go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I CHECK IN on my dad and spend the rest of the morning packing with a little Rod Stewart singing about breaking hearts and wishing someone love. It’s fitting.
“You’ll like Cape Cod.” I pet Mozart as he crawls through the mess on my bedroom floor and onto my lap. “Except Bungie. I’m not sure how this will go.”
My phone chimes.
FLINT: I have forty minutes for lunch. Free?
ME: It’ll take me twenty minutes to meet you anywhere.
FLINT: I bet you can open your front door in under one minute.
I set Mozart on the ground and jump up with a huge grin on my face as I weave my way through the mess to my door.
“Mr. Hopkins.” I attempt to make a sexy pose. I’m not sure how sexy leggings and a bulky sweater with fuzzy socks can really be, but I’m working it.
“Ms. Rodgers.” He takes two short steps before the door closes behind him and he pins me to the wall.
We turn into a flurry of hands ripping at clothes, deep kisses, playful bites, and soft moans.
Between labored breaths, I stab my hands through his hair as he licks and bites his way down my neck. “You didn’t bring lunch, did you?”
“Elle …” He hums in pleasure as his lips feather across the swell of my breasts. “You are lunch.” Flint drops to his knees, taking my leggings and panties down with him.
My head thumps against the wall as my eyes roll back into my head.
Flint Hopkins can go all night or he can be incredibly efficient. Today he’s redefining the quickie without sacrificing a bit of my pleasure—and without moving an inch past the wall adjacent to my front door. It’s the crazy, spontaneous sex we should have had in his greenhouse, minus the stitches incident.
I want this life.
I want a man who can make it mean the world one minute and the next minute show me this living-in-the-moment passion that seeks nothing more than raw physical pleasure.
After he leaves me as nothing more than a pile of bones on my entry floor, Flint navigates his way into the bathroom to dispose of his condom.
“Fuck! Dammit!” He flies out of the hall bathroom with his shirt tucked halfway in and his pants still hanging open.
Perfectly ruffled. Just like I like him.
I slide on my panties and leggings, and pull on my sweater. “Let me guess … Lady Gaga’s by the sink.” I grin. “Told ya she likes to watch.”
Flint tucks the rest of his shirt into his pants, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you live with rats.”
“You make my babies sound like sewer rats from horror movies.” I finish buttoning his shirt and tie his tie for him.
“Who’s going to help dress me when you’re gone?” He grins.
“I think we both know you do it better than anyone, but I’m sure you’ll find some sexy woman who has a quiet and boring job and no pets. Harry won’t like her the way he likes me, but she’ll figure out that cookies get her into your bed. She’ll probably buy them from a bakery because women who bake are a dying breed.” I give his tie a final tug. “You have no idea how good you have it right now.”
He pulls me into him, nuzzling his nose in my hair. “You’re so very wrong.”
“Can I get you real food?” I turn out of his hold, moving toward the fridge, anywhere to separate my heart from this long goodbye.
“I have to get back to work.” He slips on his jacket.
“Work …” I give him a stiff smile. “I need to figure that out for myself.”
“Do you need money?”
I grunt a laugh. “No. I don’t have any major living expenses there. At least for now.”
“But if you do—”
I shake my head, knowing he’s expecting me to call him.
“I have skills. I can get a job. I want to get a job as soon as I know my dad’s doing a little better. Then we’ll look for someone to care for him during the day while I work, and I can be with him in the evenings and weekends.”
“Well …” He gives
me a sad smile.
“Dinner later?”
“Sure.” A slow nod accompanies his sad smile.
I follow him to the door. “What’s wrong?”
He opens the door and turns back to me. “Every day it’s getting harder to pretend that you’re not leaving indefinitely.”
“It’s a long goodbye.”
He nods.
“Too long?”
“I…” he shakes his head “…don’t know.”
“It’s one word. You can say it now. You can say it over the phone. You can text it.” I swallow hard, trying to be strong for both of us. “Or you don’t have to say it at all. It’s okay to just … walk away. We’ve said all that has to be said, right?”
*
Flint
I COULD USE a drink. Ten years is a long time to feel the pain without one single thing to numb it. Have we said all there is to say? In a lifetime, will we say all there is to say?
“I won’t say goodbye. And I won’t walk away. But…” I clear my throat “…I’ll watch you walk away.”
Her blue eyes fill with tears.
“Dinner. I’ll call you.” I turn and go back to work because if I stay to watch her tears fall, I’ll lose my fucking mind. As soon as I get in my car, I slam the palm of my hand against the steering wheel. “FUCK!” Leaning my head back, I close my eyes.
After a few minutes, I call Amanda to have her reschedule my appointments, and I find a meeting to attend. It’s my first in over five years. It’s hard to make sense of why the one thing that killed Heidi is the one thing I crave the most as I get ready to lose the woman I love in this present life.
*
“WHY ARE YOU picking me up?” Harrison asks as he gets in my car after school.
“Because you’re my son.”
He rolls his eyes.
Because I need to remember why I’m here. Because I need to remember why I’m doing this thing called life.
Five minutes from our house, he breaks the silence. “Simon’s dad told Simon he’s not getting married again. Are you going to marry Ellen?”
Maybe picking him up wasn’t such a great idea.
“No.”
“If you married her, would we have to move? I don’t want to move.”
“I’m not marrying Ellen.”
“You’re just having sex with her?”
