My cock springs to action and is ready to go, and she feels it, so I bend and kiss her. Her hands wrap around my neck, and I swear I wish I could pick her up and carry her over to one of the chairs and lay her down and get lost in her. “Justin,” she whispers my name when I leave her lips and make my way down to her neck. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“Oh, I can finish,” I say, looking at her, “but you are going to have to walk out before me.” Looking down at my cock, I say, “Give me a minute.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I’ll give you a minute,” she says and walks away on her tippy toes, her perfect ass on display, and I know that after she takes that bikini off, its disappearance will be a mystery. She walks to the steps of the pool and slowly walks in as Dylan gets out and then jumps back in. I walk to the pool, using the stairs, too, but I sit on one of the steps, and she walks over to me in the waist-high water. “You still need a minute?” she jokes with me.
“Very funny.” I reach out and pull her to me. She sits on my lap, and we spend the time laughing while we watch Dylan jump into the pool over and over again. The only time my arms aren’t around her is when Dylan and I both do cannonballs, but then I swing to her and bring her with me.
“I’m being an old man,” Dylan says, lifting his hand out of the water.
“You’ve been in the water for three hours,” I say from the side. For the past three hours, the three of us have gotten to know each other better. I found out that Caroline is two years and two days older than me. I found out that Dylan hates math in school, which I can get. I found out that Caroline loves to read and has read everything the library has to offer. I found out that her eyes sparkle when she’s really not thinking about anything and is in the moment. They tease me when I tell them I’m afraid of spiders. I kiss Caroline and then look back at Dylan.
“Let’s get going.” I get out of the water and walk over to the cabana and grab two towels. Caroline comes out first, and if I didn’t hate the bikini before, I hate it now. Her nipples are hard and almost poking out. “Cover yourself.” I wrap her in a towel, locking her arms inside. I hold her towel up while I hand Dylan his, and she laughs.
“I can’t move,” she says, and I loosen my grip just enough for her to reach out of the towel and hold it up herself.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say. “Bring the towels. I’ll return them later.”
“What’s for supper?” Dylan asks, and I shrug. “Can we have the rest of the pizza?”
“Works for me,” I say, thinking of the leftovers I was going to throw out.
“I want three slices,” he says when we walk back into the apartment. I put the pizza in the oven to warm up and then look at Dylan.
“Go grab a shower,” I say, and he nods, stopping to get an apple on his way to the shower.
“Do you want to shower before or after me?” Caroline asks me.
“Truthfully,” I say, and she looks at me. “I want to shower with you.”
She looks down and then shyly looks back up. “But I can go after you.”
She walks to me and gets on her tippy toes. Her hands go on my waist. “I want to shower with you, too.” She kisses the side of my lips and then walks away from me to my bedroom and then the shower. I make sure everything is set, and when Dylan comes out, I see he’s wearing some of the new clothes I bought him.
“It’ll be ready by the time I get out of the shower,” I say, and he nods.
“Okay, I’m going to go watch television.” He smiles at me. “I had fun today.”
“Me, too, buddy,” I say, and he stops.
“Mom never has fun,” he says softly and then makes sure that his mom is not around. “She cries a lot at night.” I want to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t. “And I know that my dad took my stuff and sold it.”
“You don’t know that,” I say to him, trying to defend his father.
“He takes anything that we have, which is why we don’t have anything,” he says. “He says he’s going to get better.”
“One day,” I say. He just shrugs and walks away, and my heart breaks for the kid who wants his father, who knows his mother cries, and who just shared with me a secret that I won’t be able to tell his mother.
Chapter Thirty
Caroline
I look at the pile of clothes I now have, but I separate them into one pile of the clothes I’ll wear, and the other of the clothes he will eventually return. Today with him and Dylan by the pool playing games, talking and getting to know him was everything.
Having not to think or worry or even care was something I don’t think I’ve ever felt. I flip through the clothes, not even trying to imagine how much it cost him. Or that he actually called his sister and she did it, no questions asked. I try to ignore the fact that his family is going to be coming this weekend and I want to be out of his hair.
I slip on what has to be the soften cotton pants I’ve ever worn in my whole life with the matching shirt. I open the pink bag, and my hand pulls out one of the bras, and it’s so delicate I’m afraid to touch it. “Are you done in the shower?” I hear Justin say from behind me, and I nod at him. “Dylan is watching television before we eat.”
“Okay,” I say, and he walks by me but then turns around and comes back to give me a kiss.
“You smell like me again,” he says, and I am not going to tell him that I did it on purpose, taking his soap and lathering myself with it. He runs his nose along my neck. “You think he would notice if we took a shower together?”
“There is food involved,” I say, and he laughs. “I’ll get everything ready while you shower.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he says and goes into the bathroom and closes the door. I don’t even realize I’m smiling, and that it feels good.
I walk to the kitchen and look at the pizza in the oven, seeing it’s almost done and seeing that there isn’t that much. Which suits me just fine. I get the toaster out and then get the loaf of fresh white bread he has. “Is Justin done yet?” Dylan asks, coming into the kitchen, and I open my arms for him to give me a hug.
“You grew,” I say, kissing his head and smelling the fresh scent he has now. “Soon you’re going to be taller than me.”
“Yeah, and then I can take care of you,” he says, putting his head back. “And you won’t have to worry anymore.”
I push his hair back and try not to cry. “The only thing I worry about is you being happy,” I say. “Nothing else matters.”
“I like Justin,” he says. “A lot.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty awesome,” I whisper.
“Is it okay if I love him?” he asks in a soft, scared voice.
“Just because I love him doesn’t mean I love my dad less.”
“Baby,” I say, and I blink away the tears, but one comes out. “The good thing about the heart is that it just grows with all the love you have.”
“So it’s okay if I love them both?” he asks, almost relieved.
“Yeah, it’s more than okay if you love them both,” I say, bending and kissing his nose.
“Okay, get the pizza ready.” We both laugh when we hear Justin yelling as he walks into the kitchen and spots us.
“Are you guys that hungry?” He puts his hands on his hips. “That you are waiting in front of the oven.”
I laugh at him, and Dylan drops his hand from me and shakes his head. I grab the oven mitt and take the pizza out of the oven, putting it on the square so I don’t burn the counter. “Dig in, boys,” I tell them and turn around to go slip two slices of bread in the toaster.
“What are you doing?” Justin asks me.
“I’m making myself dinner.” I look over at him and open the pantry door and find my favorite, taking it out.
“You’re eating toast for dinner?” He throws down his pizza and glares at me.
“No, I’m not eating toast for dinner,” I say. “I’m eating peanut butter toast for dinner.”
“That’s not dinner.�
�� He glares at me, and I just shrug, turning around when my toast pops up and smearing peanut butter on it. “You can’t just eat toast.”
“Why not?” I ask, getting on the stool I always sit at, and it dawns on me that we have assigned seats.
“There is no meat,” he says, chewing another bite. “It’s toast.”
“And it’s my favorite,” I say, taking a bite of the toast.
“It’s gross,” Dylan says while he chews. “I never want to eat it again.”
I roll my eyes at him. There may have been a time or two that peanut butter and bread were the only things I could afford, and there may have been a time or two he hated it but ate it because there was nothing else to eat. “It’s not gross.”
“We ate it once for a whole month,” he says, and I laugh.
“It was a week, and it was just for lunch,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“You still need to eat something,” Justin says, and I laugh.
“I’m still full from lunch,” I say. “And this is what I want to eat.” I point at the plate. “Now leave me alone or I’ll eat your pizza,” I say to Dylan who looks away.
For the rest of the meal, Dylan and Justin talk hockey, and when I’m done, I get up and start cleaning the kitchen. “Where is your vacuum?” I ask Justin, and he looks at me. “What?”
“You’re not cleaning the house,” he says almost as if I kicked him.
“I’m just going to pass the vacuum and maybe do the mopping,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“The woman comes Monday and Friday,” he says, and I look at him.
“What woman?” I ask him
“Cristine,” he says. “Nice lady. She also does the laundry, and she buys the food.”
“You have someone who does your laundry?” I ask him, although I don’t know why I’m surprised.
“No,” he says. “We have someone who does our laundry.”
“Oh, no, buster,” I say. “We do not. I do my own laundry, and I’ll do yours, too.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, and whereas before, it made my stomach flutter, now I put my hands on my hips.
“Oh, no, don’t you sweetheart me. If you want me to stay here, I will do the cleaning and the laundry.” He glares at me. “And the cooking.”
“Dylan, are you done?” Justin turns to him, and Dylan brushes his hands together. “Wash your hands.”
“Okay, Justin,” he says, getting off the stool and bringing his plate to the sink. “Can we watch a short movie?”
“Sure,” I answer him, and he looks at Justin.
“You can choose.” He smiles at him, and Justin smirks at first and then totally smiles. Dylan walks away, and Justin watches him, then turns to me.
“You are not cleaning my house nor are you doing my laundry,” he says, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“Fine. I won’t clean your house or do your laundry. But I will clean up after myself and my son in your house.” I point at him. “And I’ll do my laundry.” I smirk now. “And if yours happen to fall in at the same time”—I raise my hands—“oh well.” He glares at me. “I can’t give you anything for having me and Dylan stay here. I can’t even pay for the clothes you bought.”
“I don’t want you to give me anything,” he says softly. “Just being here is all you need to give me.”
“Can you just let me give you the only thing I can?” I ask. “You don’t have to cancel your cleaning lady but let me just tidy things up if I can.”
He put his hands on his hips and huffs out. “Fine, but no vacuuming or mopping.”
I throw my hands up. “There is nothing left.”
He just shrugs. “Well, then you can just relax and come and watch a show with us.” He walks around the counter and kisses me. “Now let’s go.” He grabs my hand, and our fingers link together, and he kisses the tips of my fingers.
We walk to the back room, and I sit on the couch, curling my feet under me. Dylan comes to cuddle into my side. Justin gets on the other side of me, putting his arm around me and pulling us into him. We watch two episodes of a baking show, and when it’s time for bed, Dylan is already half out of it. He kisses us both good night and slips into bed.
“Tomorrow,” he says when he grabs my hand and we walk into his bedroom, “you can take the SUV to work, and I’ll take the car.” He walks over to what is now his side of the bed and pulls the covers back. “Get into bed, sweetheart.” He smirks at me. “Gotta get back in the zone.” I shake my head and go to the bed, and in fifteen minutes, my top is off, and we are lost in each other. We kiss until we are breathless, and I fall asleep again in his arms.
The morning routine feels like we’ve been doing this since the beginning, except when he slips out of bed at four to go work out and then comes back to shower and wakes me with kisses.
Nighttime comes with me usually getting there before them and starting to cook, which I love. Then sitting down and telling each other about our days. It may be just a little thing, but it’s everything.
After I clean up, we end up in the pool where we stay way later than we should. We create our own get to know you game, each one of us asking the other one what do you love more.
On Wednesday, I walk into work with a smile on my face that doesn’t leave me the whole day, and when Cheryl comes in, she comments on how happy I look. “You’ve got that look,” she says right before she walks out the door, and over her shoulder, she finishes her sentence. “The look of love. Have a great night.” She waves her fingers in the air, and I sit here at my desk stunned. I just watch the door that she walked out of, and I’m not sure I heard her right. I can’t have the look of love. I get up from my desk and go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. The circles under my eyes are almost not there, my nose is a bit red from the sun because we’ve been in the pool since Sunday. Little tiny freckles are coming out on my cheeks. My hair is shiny, and it’s also curled a little. I’m wearing a new blush pink T-shirt with white jeans and brown sandals. I touch my cheek, and I don’t feel any different, but it’s there, it’s in my eyes. I put my hand to my stomach, and I suddenly feel sick.
“Am I in love?” I ask the mirror, and I don’t know why I’m surprised when it doesn’t answer me back. I knew I liked him; well, I knew I liked him a lot. I walk out of the bathroom and grab my purse to leave, and that night, he just looks at me, and when Dylan goes to bed, he stands in front of the bed.
“Sweetheart,” he says my name, and I look up. I’m wearing another bedtime outfit. This one is shorts and a loose tank top. “Look at me.”
“What?” I say, trying not to give him anything.
“What’s going on with you?” he asks, and he stands there in his shorts that he always wears low on the hips, and I have the sudden urge to bite him. “You were quiet all night even in the pool.”
“Nothing,” I say, avoiding his eyes and slipping under the covers.
“Are you nervous that my parents are coming?” he asks, and I nod my head.
“Yes,” I lie, hoping to throw him off.
“It’s going to be fine,” he says, coming to me. I also didn’t tell him that I plan on going back to my house tomorrow. “By the way, I need your key.”
“The key?” I ask him, confused.
“To your apartment,” he says, and I look at him, blinking. “I have a crew going in this weekend to patch up all the holes.”
“But,” I start to say, “I was going to stay there.”
“Yeah,” he says, getting into bed. “And why did you think you would stay there?” He turns to me.
“Well, your family is coming, and …” I start to say, and he pulls me to him, and my arms automatically go around him.
“And?” he says, leaning down and kissing my lips.
“And I was giving you some space with your family,” I say.
“Well, it’s a good thing that you won’t be able to get into your place until the following week,” he says with a smirk, and I have to wonder
if he knew all along that I would try to make a run for it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Justin
“Let’s go, buddy!” I yell down the hall toward the bedroom. Caroline comes out of the bedroom, and she looks like she’s going to throw up. “You look beautiful.” She is wearing a short-sleeved white dress with gray stripes and a matching belt around her tiny waist in a bow. She is wearing the brown sandals that she has been wearing for the past four days even though she now has twenty pairs of shoes. Because not only did Zara overdo it, but there has also been extra packages coming every single day.
“Yeah.” She puts her hands to her stomach. “I really don’t know what someone wears when they meet the family of the guy she’s …”
“She’s dating,” I finish for her. “You’re my woman.” She glares at me. “Come here.” I pull her to me, and she looks up at me. “Sweetheart.”
“You guys with the kissing,” Dylan says, walking past us. “I’m getting a snack for the car.”
“We leave in two!” I yell to him. “Now, tonight is going to be good.” She doesn’t even smile. “Great, amazing … they are going to love you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says softly, and we walk out together. She kisses Dylan on the top of the head and then leans up to kiss me. “Drive safely.”
“You, too,” I say, watching her get into the SUV and driving away. I get into the car and make my way to the arena, parking in my regular spot. “Let’s go, buddy,” I say, opening the back door for him, and we walk in together like we always do.
“See you on the ice,” Dylan says, walking to his changing room, and I turn to see Ralph.
“Hey,” I say to him, and he nods.
“You have some visitors.” He motions over to the changing room, and when I enter, I see it overrun with the men in my family. Matthew and Max sit side by side, their hockey bags in front of them as they search through them. Evan and Viktor are sitting together on the other side, leaning with their backs to the wall and their eyes closed. Their hockey bags are not even open. Mini Cooper is sitting with Michael as he ties his skate. The kid has gotten so tall he might be past me now. My father sits on the bench by himself as he puts on his skates.
This Is Forever (This Is Series 4) Page 20
