Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection

by Sofia T Summers

  That couldn’t be true, though. My mother, skilled socialite that she was, had never been a good actress. She was always the kind of person who believed exactly what she wanted to believe, and that was it. Now that the prodigal son had finally returned home, it was clearly time for me (in her eyes) to fulfill what she’d always wanted for me: marriage and children.

  I sighed under my breath as I followed my mother into the house. There wasn’t just a florist – I was introduced to a wedding planner, a photographer, a videographer, someone who would coordinate something called a “first look” which I didn’t quite understand the point of, a calligrapher for the invitations, a calligrapher for the seating arrangements, and a personal stylist. My godparents, whom I hadn’t seen in at least ten years, were standing there beaming and even my father was in high spirits.

  “And please, if Margot is on your side, do not let her wear a tux,” my mother hissed in my ear while keeping her smile firmly glued into place. “That girl always has to steal attention and she’s certainly not going to do it from my future daughter-in-law!”

  “How do you feel about all of this, Benjamin?”

  “What kind of flowers does she like? Be specific – scents, colors, shapes!”

  “Have you thought about a prenuptial agreement?”

  “What about a dress of cream with wedding colors cranberry and pumpkin? We could do the wedding in the fall!”

  It was, frankly, overwhelming and I excused myself to the bathroom where I sat down, fully clothed, on the closed toilet lid to put my face in my hands. I didn’t know shit about weddings. All of the SEALs I’d known who were married had gone through with quick jaunts to the courthouse or a meeting with a Navy chaplain. They hadn’t had to deal with all of this lace and ecru and twenty different types of lilies.

  Furthermore, when the truth was revealed to my parents, I couldn’t imagine Jessie wanting any of this. She wasn’t fussy – it wouldn’t be her style to demand a custom-made gown that cost thousands of dollars. I would have been happy to pay any amount in the world to make her happy.

  But she was just not that kind of girl.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, my mother was waiting for me in the hallway with a gleam in her eye.

  “Everyone is enjoying canapes,” she said. “I thought I’d take this moment to talk privately with you about something important.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”

  “Yes,” my mother said. She cleared her throat, then led me into my father’s study at the end of the hall. I hadn’t been inside in years – back when Margot and I were kids, it was always where our parents summoned us when we were in trouble. Now, decades later, I could still feel a nervous ripple pass through my stomach at the memory.

  My mother, however, briskly bypassed my father’s massive desk and the tiny, ladylike desk when she’d often sat to write letters. She walked over to the bookshelf and took hold of the edge of the painting nestled right in the middle – an oil portrait of my grandfather in his youth. With a neat, mechanical click, the painting swung open and revealed a large safe.

  “Give me a moment,” my mother said. I rolled my eyes but obliged her and turned around, tapping my toe as she fumbled with the combination lock. The safe was ancient – a relic from the early twentieth century – and the door clanged and groaned heavily as my mother pulled it open.

  From inside, she produced a tray of jewelry. She selected a few rings and set them down on my father’s desk.

  They were gigantic. Diamonds as big as glass shards glittered in yellow gold and platinum. Rubies and sapphires shone up at me and twinkled in the dim evening light that filtered in through the window.

  “I thought your fiancée might like a piece of our family history,” my mother said.

  When I didn’t answer, she added hesitantly: “What do you think?”

  None of the rings were right for Jessie. They were so big that they were almost gaudy and I couldn’t picture a single one of them twinkling on her pale, chubby little hand.

  “I ... I don’t know that these are her style,” I said uneasily.

  “Oh, Benjamin, don’t be so boring,” my mother tutted. “You think she wants a boring solitaire from Tiffany’s? No. I’m sure the girl you’ve chosen is special – just like these rings.”

  Jessie, of course, was special. But special in an entirely different way.

  “I ... “ I trailed off. I could see from the look in my mother’s eyes that there was nothing I could do to persuade her and for the first time since spinning my fake engagement lie, I regretted it entirely.

  “This one looks nice,” I said finally, reaching for a ring in the center of the tray. It wasn’t Jessie’s style at all – a circular cluster of large diamonds sat in yellow gold, and it looked heavy enough to sink the Titanic. I couldn’t picture it on her hand – I could only picture her incredulous face when – and if – I presented it to her. She would probably giggle and ask if it was a joke, or if I’d gotten it from a gumball machine.

  God knows it was certainly big enough.

  I’ll just keep it at the bank for a while, in my safe deposit box, I thought. And then I can give it back and say that my fiancée wanted something a little more modern, but she appreciated the gesture.

  My mother, however, beamed.

  “That was your great-aunt Margaret’s,” she said proudly. “The diamonds are old mine cut, see? How they sparkle in the light.”

  I nodded numbly as my mother kept talking while slipping the ring into a soft bag and handing it over to me.

  Margot had been right – lying to our parents was a dangerous game, and now I was in way over my head.

  Fuck.

  21

  Jessie

  When it came time for the day of my lunch with Ben, I had to admit, even to myself, that I was nervous. He’d sounded so downtrodden on the phone when I had said no to dinner, but there wasn’t much I could have done about that. Henny was busy and it wasn’t like I felt comfortable sticking Olive with a stranger just so I could hear my old boyfriend out. Besides, lunch was safer. There wouldn’t be any wine or reason to order dessert. It was quick.

  Businesslike.

  Or so, I hoped it would be.

  That day, it was warm enough to wear sandals and a knee-length dress to the office. I spent an hour on my hair in the morning, causing Olive to whine and make faces and hop around behind me in the bathroom.

  “Mommy, what are you dooooo-iiiing,” she asked loudly, sticking her fingers in the corners of her mouth and pulling her lips to the side. “You’re taking fooooooor-eeeeeever!”

  “Mommy has ... an important interview today,” I lied.

  That made her perk up. Olive looked at me with her tiny little brow furrowed.

  “What kind of interview?” She asked, taking the time to pronounce each syllable in an imitation of me.

  The kind that might find out where the fuck your father has been for years, I thought.

  “I’ll tell you later, sweetie,” I said.

  Olive rolled her eyes at me and walked out of the bathroom, dragging her feet along the carpeted hallway floor.

  This time, I decided, I wasn’t going to waste any time. As soon as I sat down with Ben, I’d come right out and ask him the truth – hell, even before we ordered, just in case it was something that made me so angry I had to storm out of there without offending the server.

  I thought about it all morning at work. I was so distracted that my boss, Donna, had to call my name three times in a meeting and by the time eleven-thirty rolled around, I was a ball of nervous energy. I didn’t want to risk any of my coworkers seeing me with Ben, so I made up some lie about having to take my car for a mid-day oil change and then waited for him in the parking lot.

  The Land Rover pulled into the lot at quarter to twelve on the dot. If I hadn’t been so nervous, the detail would have made me smile a little bit. Ben had always been so punctual, so steady.

  But then I remembered how he
had disappeared on me without a word and the hint of the smile that had been building vanished in a nanosecond.

  Benjamin pulled up to the curb. Without waiting for him to put it into park and get out to open my door, I hopped inside.

  “We’re going to Paco’s,” I said. A Mexican restaurant, Paco’s was the closest thing I’d found to my job ... just in case I had to bolt and take an Uber back to the office.

  Ben nodded. He cleared his throat, like he was about to speak, then pulled away from the curb. I had to force myself to tear my eyes away from him – he was wearing a black t-shirt that showed off his muscular physique and dark jeans, the kind that I’d always loved the sight of his ass in. He smelled so good that my mouth watered, and I put my hands in my lap, discreetly wiping my palms on my skirt.

  The Land Rover smoothly joined the moderate flow of lunchtime traffic and before I knew it, we were parking in the lot of Paco’s and walking inside, still without talking. A hostess in a huge, gaudy sombrero led us to a table.

  “Could we have a booth?” Ben asked in a low voice. He eyed me and I shrugged. The server sat us all the way at the back of the restaurant after rolling her eyes at Ben’s request. Being alone with him, even in public daylight hours, was having a disquieting effect on me.

  Suddenly, I wished that he’d just said whatever he wanted to say to me over the phone. That, at least, would have spared me the drama of sweating through my new dress and smiling awkwardly as a mariachi band eyed my figure.

  “Jessie, I—”

  “Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. I cleared my throat. “Just ... just spit it out, okay? Why did you do it?”

  Ben’s brow furrowed and his blue eyes flashed.

  “You know what I mean,” I said, keeping my voice as controlled as I could. “Why did you leave? Why were you gone for so long? Why didn’t you tell me any of it?”

  Ben clenched his teeth and I watched a muscle in his jaw twitch.

  “If you don’t tell me, I’m walking out of here right now,” I declared. “I wasted enough time being pissed off at you – I’m done!”

  The air between us grew charged with electricity as Ben’s hot blue gaze met mine.

  “It was for work,” he said slowly. “For an assignment. I was supposed to be back within two years, but they kept extending my contract and I couldn’t say no. I ... I was in Somalia,” he said finally. “Off the coast.”

  I blinked at him in surprise. Somalia?

  He may as well have said the moon.

  Still, his words hurt. He’d left me, for so long, and it was for a fucking work assignment?

  “I didn’t think I’d be deployed so soon after becoming a SEAL,” Ben said. “But they sent me out almost immediately. It was a crisis, an emergency, and I was forbidden to tell anyone about it. Maybe if we had been married, I could have said a little, but there was no time, and I didn’t know what I could do.”

  I didn’t say anything. The hurt was rippling through my body, cascading through my heart and chest and making me feel weak. I gripped the table until my knuckles turned white.

  “Maybe if we had been married?” I asked in a small voice.

  Ben gave a brief jerk of his head. “Yeah,” he said in a husky voice. “But even then – my CO told me I couldn’t give any specific details.”

  I swallowed hard. Thinking about Ben, my American hero, in Somalia was wild to me. I stared at him, unable to comprehend what he’d just told me.

  “Do ... are you okay? I mean, were you hurt?” I asked in a small voice.

  Ben shook his head. “No,” he said gruffly. Then he met my eye. “I think you might’ve noticed that the other day,” he added, in a tone that was as close to sly as he ever got.

  I flushed hotly.

  “I didn’t expect to be gone that long, Jess,” Ben said. “And I thought that even though you’d be pissed off and mad at me, you’d understand.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “And why the fuck would you think that? What makes you think that what you did was even remotely okay?”

  Ben cleared his throat. He looked away, and when he turned back to me, the expression on his face was almost shy.

  “Because you were the one who always supported me,” he said. “You were the one who always pushed and encouraged me – even more than my own family. You were always proud of me.”

  It was as if the angry balloon in my chest had been punctured. I could feel the hot stream of emotion start to leak out of me, and as I looked at Ben, sitting across the table from me in that ridiculous Mexican restaurant, I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes.

  It wasn’t in that single moment, but rather as if that moment was the crowning glory of my feelings towards Ben over the last couple of weeks. Everything between us had been leading up towards this, and I was rushing headfirst into a storm of emotion that threatened to leave me a sobbing mess of mascara and sweat.

  I realized that I still loved him. In fact, if anything, I loved him more than ever. I pressed my lips together – in the past, I had always been so comfortable and open with my emotions. But now that I wasn’t hiding behind my angry, tough-girl façade, I wondered how I could begin to be soft and vulnerable with Ben again. So many years had passed since we had first met, so many ups and downs had occurred.

  Ben cleared his throat, breaking my train of thought. Our eyes met across the table and a warm, pleasant shiver ran down my spine.

  “So,” Ben began. He leaned forward and raised an eyebrow at me. “What’ve you been doing? Likely not spending time off the coast of Somalia, I assume.”

  I swallowed hard. It was now or never – I could tell him the truth about Olive, or I could lie. What would he do when he found out that I – that we – had a daughter together?

  Would he run all the way back to Somalia?

  No, I told myself sternly. That’s not Ben. Ben is responsible. He’s kind.

  But neither of those things meant that he wanted to be a father. Even I wasn’t Pollyanna-ish enough to believe that.

  “Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time with one person in particular,” I began nervously.

  Ben’s head snapped up and there it was again: that naked, vulnerable look in his sapphire eyes that I had so rarely seen before.

  I blushed and coughed slightly.

  “My daughter. Our daughter.”

  22

  Benjamin

  My jaw dropped as the full implication of Jessie’s words came crashing down to the earth.

  “I found out that I was pregnant almost right after you left, and I haven’t been with anyone since,” Jessie said softly.

  “Jess,” I said huskily. “I always knew that I’d come back for you, that I had to come back for you.”

  Jessie swallowed softly. She took a deep breath.

  “I still love you, Ben,” she said quietly.

  I was floored. In the span of less than ten minutes, all of the secrets between us had come out. I was a father. I had a kid – a daughter! – a real live kid who could walk and talk and play and cry!

  I felt like jumping up and singing. It was easily the happiest moment of my life and I had to restrain myself from leaping to my feet and sweeping Jessie into a passionate, tight embrace.

  “Our daughter?” I asked. It was all I could think about – a sweet little thing with the best of our features, blended together. Immediately, my thoughts flashed back to the day I’d seen Jessie playing outside with the little girl.

  Oh, god, how could I have been so stupid as to immediately not figure out that she was mine?

  Jessie nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Her name is Olive. She’s almost five, Ben. She’s learning how to read.”

  “Holy shit,” I muttered. I leaned back in my chair and shook my head slowly. “I can’t believe it.”

  “She’s definitely yours,” Jessie said quickly. “Like I said, I haven’t been with anyone else, and—”

  “No, no,” I said. I held up my hand and shook my head. “I wasn’t
doubting you. It’s just ... it’s fucking amazing, that’s all.”

  Jessie smiled weakly. “She’s amazing,” she said, nodding. “She spends a lot of time with Henny – do you remember her? And my brother, Jared. He helps out a lot. She’s really smart. I don’t know where she gets it. I was a total dunce at that age.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “Holy shit.”

  Jessie gave me wry little smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this emotional before,” she said.

  I shrugged. “It’s not every day that a man finds out he has a daughter.”

  Jessie nodded slowly.

  “When can I meet her?” I asked.

  Jessie hesitated for a second. “Soon,” she said. “I promise. She ... well, she’ll be thrilled. But she’s young, and she needs some time to get used to the idea.” She flushed and looked down at her hands for a second. “I know she’ll love you. She’s been asking why she doesn’t have a dad for so long that I was running out of things to tell her.”

  I nodded.

  “It’ll happen soon,” Jessie said. When she looked up at me, I saw her big brown eyes were dancing happily. In her short sundress and with her hair in big, bouncy curls, she looked almost just like she had the first night that we’d met.

  Thinking about that night sent a flash of lust through my body. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to pull Jessie into my arms and crush her lips to mine. I wanted to taste the salty sweetness of her skin, to show her as best I could how much I loved her.

  And how I was never going to leave her side again.

  “Can you take the rest of the afternoon off?” I asked.

  Jessie giggled. She looked down at the sticky, plastic-covered menu.

  “We haven’t even ordered yet,” she teased. “I thought you wanted to come to lunch with me, not play hooky.”

  I snickered. “For one thing, I wanted to have dinner,” I said.

  Our eyes met and my heart began to thud in my chest.