“Why?” she asked with a mouthful of chocolate. “You’re positively tiny.”
“I wasn’t always.”
Hanna leaned back and checked out Sam’s backside. “Get out. With that ass?”
Sam had to laugh—was she actually blushing? “Baby weight. And then depressed-after-baby weight. And then the same thing again with baby number two.”
“Good on ya for shedding it. I like food too much. Couldn’t diet if I tried.”
“It’s not like you need it.” The woman completely rocked her shape. “I doubt you’re a slave to the gym like I am.”
“Slave is an interesting word.” Hanna popped another chocolate in her mouth and grinned. “I, personally, find other ways of sweating.”
Okay, now she really needed to know more. As Hanna led her into Barney’s and poked through a pile of Hermes silk scarves, Sam’s inquisitiveness got the better of her.
“I guess the wanker’s alimony payments are pretty good, huh?”
Hanna’s expression darkened. “No alimony. No divorce. He just up and left one day.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I assumed…”
“It’s okay. I’m the one who called him my ex-husband. Sounding divorced sounds better than sounding abandoned.”
Sam felt sick. How could anyone leave their partner and children? She should let the thing lie, but then Hanna glanced up. Her lips were the color of currant today, and Sam would’ve been lying if she said they didn’t make her stare.
“You can ask about him, if you want.”
Sam blinked. “Him?”
“Washington, my ex-husband.”
“That was his name?”
Hanna nodded, and Sam had to snort at the irony of it. They both had a Washington in their pasts. Hanna took out her phone and showed Sam a picture of a built, attractive man with black and Asian features.
“Good-looking wanker.”
“Yep. We made some beautiful babies together.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
“Nah. Pisser could be dead for all I know. Haven’t heard a peep since the day I let the door slam behind him.”
“Was there a reason he left?”
“He didn’t want to be a dad anymore, or he couldn’t take being with a real woman.” Hanna shrugged. “Thing that pissed me off the most was that he proved my parents right. Not that I could talk to them.”
Sam treaded carefully this time. “Are they no longer with us?”
“They’re alive. They just don’t speak to me anymore.”
“At all?” Sam’s parents were moving, but at least she knew she’d talk to them, FaceTime, see them again.
“Yeah. I miss them. Miss London, too. But I live here now. And they made their choice.” She looked at Sam and sighed. “I’m dumping a lot on you, aren’t I?”
“Not at all. I want to hear it.”
A relieved smile cracked across Hanna’s face. Sam wondered how many friends Hanna had. Hanna shifted her bags to one side and linked their arms together.
“There’s a long story to it. You see, I was raised quite wealthy. I didn’t say it before, because it’s weird, yeah? But in Johannesburg we lived on an estate, kind of like the South African Beverly Hills, gated suburbs where the rich could hide their mixed-race kids. In London, we lived in Knightsbridge, really posh. I was groomed to be a debutante: piano lessons, French lessons—”
“You speak French?”
Because that was the important question to be asking.
“Oui, madame. Je le parlé bien.”
The translation of “Yes, madame. I spoke it well” took longer with the giddy flutter in her stomach. Okay, she was girl-crushing, hard. “I used to speak it, too. In college. At one point I was reading full-on French novels, studying literature and debating the state of American politics.”
“Sounds like you were a bit of a superstar.”
Sam laughed wistfully. “I was, I guess. Or I was gonna be.”
Hanna’s brows were raised in a look that said go on.
“I worked in DC for a while. Congress. But I had to come home to take care of family issues, and then I met Brady and the rest is history.”
“We have more in common than we thought.”
They’d wandered into the women’s clothing department. Hanna flipped through a few tops, discarding each one as she moved them around on a rack.
“I was somebody, too. Had an education and a future, but I fell for a Blasian bloke who sunk me in a heartbeat, and I followed him across the Pond. He said he was a music producer, although the only thing he produced was the product he sold on the streets.” She rejected the tops and turned around, head held high. “Now that prat’s gone, and I’m making bank wiping the nose of one of the most powerful lawyers in Boston.”
Hanna’s history made Sam’s past look like the epitome of First World problems. “Do you worry about your citizenship?”
The current political climate made even Sam nervous. But Hanna made that pshaw sound again. “Reg made sure I was okay. I’ve got a conditional green card, the ‘condition’ being that my marriage works out. Wash and I aren’t divorced, so by legal standards that means things are working!”
Her smile was bright, but sarcastic. Sam had to laugh.
“In a year I’ll be eligible to apply for citizenship,” Hanna continued. “And I’m not worried about my kids’ birthright citizenship, no matter what crazy shit we hear on the news or Twitter these days. As long as I don’t commit any violent felonies, I’m good.”
Sam was in awe. “You’re a badass for making it on your own.”
“I do it for my girls. And Wash’s aunt lives next door to me, so she helps.” She looked around, blew her hair off her face. “Come on, we’re not gonna find what I want for you here.”
“What you want?”
“Uh-huh.”
Hanna led the way out of the store and down a side street. After a few blocks, they ended up at a blank storefront, with a keypad at the doorway. Hanna punched in some numbers and they were buzzed inside.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked.
“You’ll see.”
Drawn to the mysterious way Hanna carried herself, Sam followed her up a narrow flight of steps, the lights above them fluorescent and blinking. At the landing was a door with a black placard sign on it that read “Molly’s of Mercy.” And behind it was the most elaborate lingerie and corset shop Sam could imagine.
“Hey, Molly. I got a new girl here,” Hanna called out, then turned to Sam. “Much better than shabby chic, don’t you think?”
Sam fingered a red bustier flocked in velvet. “You shop here?”
“I like pretty things,” she said, then whispered, “And let’s say I don’t just read about things like you were yesterday.”
“I knew it!” Sam felt like dancing. “Um, me, too.”
“Then that giant hubby of yours definitely has nothing to complain about.”
Was Sam blushing again? She was definitely blushing. “It’s new though. I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it.”
“You don’t know people in the lifestyle?”
She did, but they were all in Sam’s inner circle, not people she could share this with.
Sam shook her head.
“Well, you do now.”
It was like discovering they were sisters. She had to acknowledge that she found Hanna attractive—of course she did. But this was nothing more than a fast, furious and close friendship with someone like her. Sam had so many questions, she didn’t know where to start.
“So, you’ve been doing—” she waved around the shop, “—this for a while?”
“You could say that.”
“How do you keep up with it, while working and having kids?”
“Simple.” Hanna’s grin was gleeful. “I don’t cook or clean much.”
Skipping that would certainly free up some time. “And you’re in a BDSM relationship? You’re seeing someone?”
�
�Let’s say my relationship status is permanently complicated.”
Sam wanted to know why, but Hanna towed her over to a rack and lifted a hanger from it. “This is what I was looking for. It’ll look stunning on you.”
Sam took it from her. The corset was black, but completely untraditional. With steel loops and stays up the front, it had long chiffon sleeves attached to a bustier that came together under the bust. Buttons went up to a high neckline that could be left open to show a little, or a lot of cleavage.
“It’s like a corset hidden in a shirt,” Hanna said. “Like a superhero Domme outfit.”
Sam laughed. Brady would like that. She flipped over the price tag. “Three hundred and fifty dollars?”
Hanna’s eyes flashed. “It’s very pretty.”
“I don’t need to buy my children birthday presents this year, right? Or pay my taxes?”
“Every Domme needs something that makes her feel sexy. Strong. Wanted. It’s like armor. Something more to put us in that space. To boost us up, so we can be what they need.”
Us. We. This was information she needed, the feedback she’d been lacking.
“You’ve sold me there.” And Brady had said he wanted to see her in something like this, so that was another selling point. “But it’s definitely not shabby chic. Not sure I can wear it this weekend.”
“Fuck yeah, you can. And when you do, everyone’s eyes will be on you.”
Sam’s heart got lodged in her chest. Wasn’t that what she’d been longing for? To feel noticed and seen, in a way no one, including Brady, had in so long? She’d thought she’d lost that part of herself forever, and here was someone like her, someone she wanted to be more like, helping that part of her shine.
Sam took the corset off the hanger. “Does Molly sell any toys in here?”
“She’s got a whole room of ’em in the back. I’ll even make sure she gives you my frequent shopper discount.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “How much off?”
Hanna’s head fell back on a loud, boisterous laugh. “Twenty percent, but I’m sure she’ll work with you.”
“You’re gonna be a bad influence on me.”
Hanna looped their arms together again. “I hope so, love. I hope so.”
19
“You’re sure you’ve got this?”
Twirling a youth-sized football, Brady watched Sam move around the kitchen while they waited for her Uber to arrive. “I’ve got this.”
Sam rummaged through her bag. “I wrote down the girls’ bedtime routines—”
“I have put our children to bed before, you know.”
“—I know, but—”
“But you thought I’d throw caution to the wind. Let them act like monkeys and hang from the ceiling.”
Across the table, Allegra made monkey noises and Hope giggled.
Sam stopped rummaging and looked up. “Something like that.”
Brady twirled the ball again and waited for her to smile. He appreciated the handwritten instructions she’d left upstairs, especially since it was the first time in a few weeks she’d done that, regardless of that talk they’d had. It was okay. She’d been busy taking care of everyone through The Great SnotFest of 2019. And he’d felt more capable lately. She had confidence in him and that had given him confidence in himself. He could handle things at home for a few hours—he’d been managing the mornings, so how difficult could bedtime be?—and she deserved a fun evening out.
Even if the two of them hadn’t had a fun night in for weeks.
He put down the ball and walked over to her. “Don’t worry. If anything goes wrong I’ll have Patrick and Jack here for backup.” They’d decided on a guys’ night in since he had the girls, one that was hopefully going to include a few beers, a game on TV and absolutely no sex advice.
“And after we play some ball, we’re gonna eat this amazing dinner Mommy cooked for us—” chicken and whole-wheat pasta with absolutely no potato chip or sugary deviations, he’d been warned, “—and have a pajama party. Right, girls?”
They lifted tiny fists. “Right,” they said in unison.
“And Daddy’s not gonna curse,” Allegra added, then grinned at Hope. Brady made a face at them both. They’d bonded when they were home sick. He’d even caught Allegra reading Hope a book. It was awesome, and really freaking weird.
“Right,” Sam said. “Or Daddy will be in trouble.” She winked after she said it, and Brady willed himself to ignore his body’s reaction. He didn’t want to be in trouble with Sam tonight.
Well, maybe a little. If trouble involved the way she was looking at him now.
“Daddy,” Hope said. “I want to be the line maker like you were.”
“You mean linebacker.”
Allegra bounced in her seat, legs swinging wildly. “And I want to be the wide retriever.”
“Receiver,” he corrected on a laugh. “A retriever is a dog. And you can be whatever you want.”
He’d started to explain things when they were all sacked out on the couch blowing their noses. The video-game version he’d been playing had piqued their interests. Hope kept track of the score in her head while Allegra asked what a down and a drive were, and why it was called a touchdown when nobody touched anything.
It was basically the best day ever.
He turned back toward Sam. She’d pulled out her phone and was texting furiously.
“It’s Gabe,” she said. “He’s pulling a Queer Eye for the Straight Girl and asking what I’ll be wearing.”
Brady wanted to know, too. Her hair was big and full, her eyes shaded, but she was still in jeans and a sweater. She’d gotten halfway ready here and was heading to Nick and Gabe’s to dress up with Lilly and Cassie before they went out. She bent over, and Brady was hoping to get a glimpse of skin as her sweater peeled away from her chest. But it wasn’t bare skin that caught his attention.
She wasn’t wearing her necklace. She’d left her engagement ring off, too.
“No jewelry tonight?” he asked.
“I didn’t feel like going out with a lot of bling,” she said. “And the necklace doesn’t match my outfit.”
That made sense. It seemed like a dumb thing to bring up now that she’d told him. Besides, her wedding band was still on.
“Daddy, look.” Allegra held up Sam’s iPad. “I found videos of football players dancing.”
Brady laughed, but Sam held up a hand. “Be careful with that. And remember, only an hour of screen time. Then it goes upstairs.” She turned back to Brady with a frown. “Do you have to teach them football when I’m not here? Something could happen. They could get hurt.”
“Sammy, relax. I’ve got this.”
She searched his eyes, and his stomach pitched with nerves, like he wasn’t supposed to call her that. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to call her. They hadn’t played since that night he’d flipped out. Getting sick had been a factor, but his body had started turning inside out with edginess since, so he’d been working out a ton to compensate. And when that stopped helping, he’d tried losing himself in lines of code.
It hadn’t worked. Part of him worried the last month was only going to be that—a brief escape from their humdrum lives, a dip into paradise never to be repeated again.
Then Sam’s hand encircled his wrist. Her thumb stroked a line over the spot that hadn’t been wrapped in her restraints in far too long.
“Okay,” she said softly, and gave him her signature half smile. It lit him up, told him that no matter what name he called her, no matter what jewelry she was or wasn’t wearing, she was coming home to him.
“Mommy, you look pretty,” Hope said.
Sam’s smile blossomed even more. “Thank you, honey.”
“Yeah,” Allegra agreed. “You look like a Disney princess but without the dress.”
Sam opened her mouth to reply, but Allegra barreled through.
“Are you wearing a dress tonight? That bag doesn’t look like it’ll fit a dress. I think you m
ight need a bigger one.”
“No dress tonight, sweetie. Just jeans and a nice top.”
Allegra rolled her eyes. “Boring.”
Brady was sure nothing about Sam tonight was going to be boring.
“We’re not gonna be boring, are we?” he asked. “We’re playing football!” The girls cheered as Sam’s phone buzzed, signaling her Uber driver’s arrival. “Okay, say goodbye to Mommy and get outside. It’s game time.”
They hopped off their chairs. After careening into Sam for hugs and kisses, they made a beeline down the hall. Brady walked her to the front door.
“Will I get to see you in your jeans and nice top when you get home?” he asked.
She hadn’t shown him what she’d purchased on her shopping trip with her new friend from work. She’d bought something else besides the top, and declared it off-limits, stashing it in their locked toy chest. The mystery was killing him.
She slipped on her jacket. “Is that a request?”
“It is.” A small one he hoped she’d grant him.
“Then, yes.” She kissed him lightly and whispered, “And if you’re lucky, you’ll see me out of it, as well as an extra surprise or two.”
A thrill shivered through him.
“Have fun.” Love you.
He waited until the Uber drove off, then went inside. He grabbed the kids’ ball he’d had hanging around the house, hoping the girls would one day want to learn, and went out into the yard. It was a balmy day, the forty-something temperatures downright tropical after the bitter cold. The ground was wet with patches of leftover melted snow, but the sun was setting later, leaving them with another good hour of daylight. Baseball’s opening day was last week, and it was one month until the NFL draft—the perfect time to educate his offspring about his favorite sport.
“Okay,” he announced. “First rule is to keep looking at the ball.”
Allegra, clown that she was, ran over to him, opened her eyes wide and stared at the ball in his hands. “Okay, I’m looking.”
Hope skipped up and did the same. “Me, too!”
“That’s not what I meant, but good start.” Brady chuckled. “Here’s the basics. There’s eleven players on each team. Each player has a different role. Like the quarterback, for instance, whose job is to call the plays. There’s also running backs, receivers—”
Their Discovery (Legally Bound Book 3) Page 19
