A Moment for Us

by Corinne Michaels

  She hands me a doll. “Did Daddy like dolls?”

  Oh, this is just too easy. “He did. He still does too. Especially the blow up ones. You should ask him to see it.”

  “Josh!” Delia walks in at that exact moment. Her eyes are wide, but she’s trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

  “What?”

  “You know what.”

  I shrug, pretending I have no idea why she’d think I said something wrong. Delia drops down beside me. “Which is your favorite?” she asks Melia.

  “This one.”

  She holds up a doll that looks like it’s been through a meat grinder. There are chunks of hair missing, the face has magic marker makeup all over it, and someone must have chewed on her hands. I’m slightly horrified at my niece.

  “That is your favorite?” I ask in disbelief.

  “She’s the nicest of them. She’s had a rough life.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  Melia hands the doll to me. “Daddy says that even though she’s a mess, she needs to be loved.”

  “He’s a smart man,” Delia says with a hint of reverence. “I think that, sometimes, those who look the most damaged have the kindest hearts.”

  “And this one?” She holds up a perfect-looking doll. “She’s the mean witch.”

  “But she’s wearing a pink ball gown! How is she a witch?” I ask Amelia, thoroughly confused.

  “Uncle Josh!” she whines. “Don’t you see? Her insides are rotten.”

  “Oh, yes, now I see it.” I turn to Delia, wondering what the hell is wrong with this kid.

  Delia smiles, taking the doll. “Maybe she needs more love. Maybe her insides are rotten because her heart is broken.”

  Amelia sits back on her heels. “Can you love someone better?”

  “I sure think so,” Delia says as she brushes the doll’s hair. “I think that we can offer kindness, love, and friendship to everyone.” She drops her head and whispers the next part. “Even the grumpy or mean ones like your uncle.”

  The giggle that escapes Amelia is musical and sweet. “He’s not grumpy!”

  “No?”

  She shakes her head. “No. He just needs a lot of hugs.”

  “I do not.”

  “I think you might be right.” Delia grins and then takes a sip of her wine.

  Melia jumps forward, and I catch her easily. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she kisses my cheek. She pulls back, holding my cheeks in her small hands. “See, you’re smiling.”

  “How can I not? You give the best hugs.”

  Her head rests on my shoulder, and I close my eyes for a moment, imagining a different child. A different life. A different time when I thought this could be me.

  Back when I was full of the blissful ignorance of youth.

  I could’ve had a family. I should’ve had this, but that life wasn’t in the cards. I was dealt a different hand. One that is dark, black, and lonely where I choose to stay. I will never again move toward the light because, at least here, there’s no pain.

  There’s a comfort in knowing how it feels to have lost it all and there’s nothing more that can be taken.

  My brother enters with a wide grin painting his face. “Are you playing dolls with Uncle Josh?”

  Melia lifts the doll that looks like it went through the shredder. “Yes! Uncle Josh told me that you love to play with dolls too, Daddy.”

  I hide my laughter, muffling it as a cough.

  “He did?”

  “Blow up ones.”

  I can’t help it, I burst out laughing, thankful I came to dinner.

  Chapter 8

  Delia

  I haven’t had a migraine like this in over a year. The pain is so bad that it hurts to keep my eyes open, so I sink down on the bathroom floor and close them.

  It hit so fast and seemingly out of nowhere.

  I rest my head against the cabinet, letting the darkness and silence do whatever it can to ease it.

  “Delia?” Josh’s voice is on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”

  I reach for the door handle. Thankfully, it’s a lever one, and I hit it hard enough to open the door. “Shhh,” I say as I press my palms against my temples.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Headache. Get Jess,” I rasp.

  The door closes softly, and a moment later, I hear Jessica’s voice.

  Jessica was in a terrible plane crash and had a traumatic brain injury that left her with crippling headaches and trouble speaking. She’ll know what to do.

  “Headache?” she whispers, pushing my hair back.

  “Yeah, it’s bad.”

  “Do you have your meds?”

  “No,” I say softly. “I don’t carry them because it’s been so long since I needed them.”

  When I got my migraine medication, it was a gift from the heavens. I was down for an hour or two instead of the days it would take me to function again. I don’t know what triggered this, but it’s already raging, and I know enough to know that nothing short of the prescription will stop it.

  “I can have Josh go to your house or you can take one of mine.”

  While I know taking another person’s medication is frowned upon, Jessica was on the same exact medication and dose that I was. “Yours,” I say, tucking my head in my knees.

  The water turns on, and even though I know it’s not loud, it sounds like a train moving through my ears.

  Jessica takes my hands, placing the glass in one and the pill in the other. I swallow the medication, and then she takes the glass from me.

  “Bed?” she asks.

  I move to my side, letting my head rest on the bathmat, not caring that I’m on the floor of the bathroom. “No.”

  “Okay. I’m going to let you lie down in the dark and quiet for a bit, I’ll be back.”

  I hear her leave, and a second later, someone lifts me and warmth surrounds me. I know these arms. I know the scent of the man who has me wrapped in his embrace. The sound of Josh’s heartbeat and breathing fills the room. He tucks me against his chest, securing me tightly.

  “Josh,” I start to protest.

  “Shh, just close your eyes.”

  I do as he says and allow myself to settle against him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his shoulder. His lips touch my forehead, and I sink into the moment. The feel of him caring for me, giving me his protection in a way I never thought possible.

  We stay like that for God only knows how long, and the medicine starts to work, granting me a reprieve.

  I stir, and Josh shifts a little. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s better.”

  “Do you get these headaches a lot?”

  “No. Not for a few months. It was bad when I was working nights, but since my promotion and the stress levels have decreased, it hasn’t happened. Why did you come in here?” I ask.

  “Because I was worried.”

  I sigh while tucking my hair behind my ears. That’s great that he’s worried, but we should be pretending we are nothing, and that’s going to be harder now that his brother and my best friend know he came in here. My heart wars with my very tired head. “And what are Jessica and Grayson going to think?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what they think,” he whispers. “You’re my friend, Delia. Above whatever else has happened between us, I’m not going to sit out there, drinking a beer, while you’re curled up on the floor in pain.”

  “I’m sorry. I just . . . I don’t want people to start asking more questions.” Ronyelle knows about what happened, but she’ll never say a word to anyone. She’ll let her disdain of my life choices be known, but she’ll only say it to me.

  “No one’s going to say a thing,” he says, cupping my cheek.

  “And how did you explain you coming in here?”

  His thumb brushes my cheek. “Simple. You’re my friend, and that’s what friends do. Let them assume whatever they want.”

  That’s easy for him to s
ay. He’s not the one answering a million questions about the rumors in the town. Or maybe he is, but whatever. It’s always worse for the girl.

  If he’s trying to convince anyone that he’s unworthy of someone to love him, he’s doing a piss-poor job of it.

  Instead, he’s like a knight in shining armor that I want to mount.

  Stupid.

  I’m stupid.

  Years of longing has amassed into this need to take whatever Josh is offering. To turn him away would be impossible and I’m not sure I can survive it.

  But then I think about the other things in my life that people have endured for love.

  When my mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was sixteen, she fought hard, beat it, and then had a recurrence right before I was supposed to leave for college. So, I stayed, and I watched her, listened to the stories of regrets she had when she thought she wouldn’t survive.

  Only, she did survive, and since then, she’s spent every day doing things she dreamed of. She’s traveling, going back to school, and learning to love herself so that maybe one day she’ll be able to love someone else again.

  Me? I’m learning how to fuck things up and use whatever flimsy excuse I can find to hold on to the crumbs he’s offering.

  “I’d like to go home,” I say around the emotions raging inside me.

  “Okay.”

  His hand drops, and he stands before helping me to my feet as well. A long, slow breath eases from Joshua and then we exit the bathroom. The lights are bright, but thankfully, they’re not painful.

  “Hey,” Jess says, pushing herself out of the chair when we enter the living room.

  “Hey. Josh is going to take me home. I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything,” she replies quickly. “I know all too well how bad a migraine can be. I’m just glad the medicine helped.”

  “Me too.”

  Grayson walks over and places his hand on Jess’s back. “Are you going to come back after you drop her off?”

  Josh clears his throat. “No, I’m going to head back to the lake. We have a busy few weeks coming, and I want to be sure we’re ready.”

  “And you’re going to accomplish that at night?” Jess questions.

  “First thing in the morning. Alex and I are going to the build site to see what Odette has done and then, I think, out to fish.”

  “Right.” Gray’s voice is quiet, but it feels like he’s shouting. Not because of the lingering headache but because of the look in his eyes.

  He clearly doesn’t believe that.

  Jessica looks to both of them, shakes her head, and moves toward me. “Call me tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  “And the doctor.”

  I smile. “Yes, Mom. I will.”

  “Good.”

  I give her a quick hug, and then Josh and I head out. The ride to my house is quiet. I lean my head back, watching the houses and trees we pass. Today has not gone how I thought it would. I’m tired, and my mind is a minefield of questions. I keep skirting them, afraid one will detonate if I step on it.

  Josh pulls into my driveway and exits the car when I do.

  I struggle to open the door, and he takes my hand, turning the knob. The heat of his body envelopes me. I really wish I didn’t feel so much when we touched. It would be great if, just this once, I wasn’t weak to him.

  He stays like this, even though the door is now unlocked. I imagine what we look like in a statue form. His body wrapped around mine, one arm around my belly, his hand on top of mine, and his chest against my back.

  I shiver.

  “Are you all right?” His voice is low, vibrating through me like a tuning fork.

  I don’t turn to him. I don’t move a muscle as I work to calm my heart. “I’m fine.”

  “Delia.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m just . . .”

  “You’re just?” I ask, urging him to say something. Anything. To kiss me. To pull me into his arms like we’re in a damn movie and tell me how it’s always been me.

  “I’m so goddamn conflicted when I’m around you.”

  “Why?” I ask, wanting to know the answer as much as I fear what it will be.

  “Because I’m not good for you. I will hurt you and . . .” He steps back, sighing deeply. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to be the man who breaks your fucking heart.”

  I go toward him because I’m an idiot. There’s really no other reason than that. I want him. I want the scraps and the pieces that he’s throwing my way. It’ll all suck soon, but I can make it feel good for now. Nothing in life is guaranteed anyway, so I might as well take what’s offered.

  Maybe I can love him enough for the both of us.

  “Josh,” I say softly. “What if you can’t break me? What if I’m much stronger than that? What if it’s not your decision, but mine?”

  I move to him, my hand pressed against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not asking you to love me, I’m just asking you not to leave tonight.”

  I may love him. I may never be able to lie to myself that I want the entire fucking world from Josh, but I’m not naïve enough to believe I’ll ever have it. That’s my cross to bear.

  “Don’t . . .” My hand falls, and I turn toward the door.

  “I’m not going to beg you,” I say. “I deserve better than that. If you don’t want me, then go.”

  I feel him behind me, his hand moves to my stomach. “I want you. God, I fucking want you.” My eyes close, heat flooding through my veins as I feel his lip touch the back of my neck. “I want something that is far better than I should ever get to touch.” Another kiss, now a bit to the left. “Tell me I can’t have it.”

  If he were any other man in the world, I would. I clench my teeth together, knowing I’ll never deny myself the opportunity to have him touch me.

  His hand moves up, cupping my breast. My head falls back to his shoulder as he moans against my neck.

  “Delia, tell me to stop.”

  I can’t tell him that. I want to weep at the fact that I know those words won’t leave my lips. Instead of crying or feeling sadness, I step forward, his hand falling away. I started this with him. I decided that my heart could handle this insane agreement. Josh has been a dream to me, something that would never be attainable. He won’t think of the stupid future that I do, but that’s not his issue, it’s mine.

  Joshua Parkerson has given me no false pretenses, and I jumped into this anyway.

  There’s not a chance in hell I’m jumping out.

  I want him far too much. I love him even though I shouldn’t, and I can’t tell him no because it’s not what I want.

  Both of us are breathing heavy. “Come inside,” I say, and his eyes widen.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “You had a migraine, and . . . I’m a fucking bastard.”

  “No, you’re only a bastard if you leave me now.”

  “You don’t deserve this.”

  I laugh once. “I don’t deserve to feel desired? Wanted? Sexy? I don’t deserve to have someone see me that way?”

  Josh’s lips part, and he steps forward. “You are more desirable and sexier than any woman in this world. You have no idea how much I want you. I walk around here, trying to come up with ridiculous reasons to have you again.”

  Oh, those words, I’ve seared them in my head and plan to call on them many times in the future.

  “Then come inside and show me.”

  “Not now. Not with you having a migraine.”

  There’s a lot wrong with my head, but the migraine is the least of it. I reach my hand out, resting it on his chest. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  I watch as the storm rages in his eyes. The desire to do what I’m asking against the fact that I was literally curled in a ball an hour ago in pain.

  My head is fine and the only thing I fee
l is desire.

  I want all the tiny seconds I can get, hold on to, and remember after he leaves.

  He steps forward, reaching behind me and turning the knob.

  And then he lifts me, carrying me inside.

  Chapter 9

  Joshua

  This is wrong.

  This is wrong.

  And I don’t have the willpower to stop it.

  Why does this woman make me so fucking stupid? It’s as if every promise I’ve made myself disappears when she touches me. Hell, when she looks at me.

  I’m a damn idiot, that’s what I am.

  Still, the sound of Delia’s soft moan seems to seep through my soul, hardening my dick even more.

  Our tongues fight against each other, moving deeper, wanting to take everything the other will give.

  I move toward her bedroom and then stop, remembering all the things I wanted to do to her on this floor.

  “I want you here,” I say as I stop between the dining room and living room. “I want to lie you down on the cold wood floor, taste you, make you scream.”

  Her lips move to my ear. “Then stop talking and do it.”

  I put her down, standing above her, as she waits. God, she’s so fucking gorgeous. Everything about her is perfect. The way her blonde hair flows around her, and the cognac-colored eyes staring up at me with so much trust that it threatens to bring me to my knees.

  She watches as I grab the blanket off the back of the couch for her to use as a pillow. “Lift your head.”

  She does.

  I place it under her. Her headache may be gone, but I’m not taking the chance.

  Delia smiles up at me. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

  “There’s nothing chivalrous about what I want to do to you, sweetheart.”

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good.” She grins.

  I lift her skirt up, and when I find she doesn’t have any underwear, I stare up at her.

  Delia’s grin hasn’t faded. “What?”

  “You had nothing on all night?”

  “Or at the party.”

  “Fuck.” I groan deeply as I spread her legs, taking in the view I’ve come to dream of. “And did you think about this?” I ask as I kiss her ankle.