by L. B. Dunbar
“Are you still coming?”
I nod because I am. With no purchase to grab anything, my hands slip from the wall, and I reach back for Brut’s hip, holding him against me.
“How do you want me?” I ask because I’ll give him anything if he can make that kind of orgasm happen again.
“On your knees, on the bed.” I step over to the bed, ready to step out of my heels, but Brut groans again to keep them on. He’s turned on by the black lace over my ass and the black bra, and he’s making me feel sexy by leaving it all on. I kneel at the edge of the mattress, spreading my thighs as I hear the release of his belt and the shimmy of his pants hitting the floor. He slips his shirt over his head in one tug and steps forward. He forces aside any lace obstructing him. Holding himself, he drags between my seam, down to my entrance. He’s working me up again, and I press back, eager for him.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you look like this?” he says, reminding me again how much he likes me, at least me in the sex kitten position. I arch my back and stretch my arms like the kitty cat he wants me to be, and that’s all it takes before he slides into me—slow, deliberate, filling. He continues until he’s to the hilt, and then he slips back, torturing me with a leisurely tug-of-war that makes me ache. My body begs to keep him inside as he drags himself back. After a few moments of push and pull, his patience breaks. His pace quickens, and our skin slaps as he pummels into me.
Holding both my hips, he grunts with each thrust, working harder, deeper, faster.
“God, I’ve missed you, Lily pad.” His voice stammers as his movements chop the rhythm.
“Get there again,” he commands, his tone steadier despite the hurried motions. I don’t know if I can, but before I speak, his fingers come around my hip and delve over folds slick and needy. Within seconds, I’m screaming his name, pushing back to force him deeper, afraid of losing this feeling, this connection, him. As I’m slowly falling to pieces once again, fluttering to the bed with my release, he pulls out and flips me over.
Tugging at my thighs, he lowers so his knees hit the edge of the bed and impales me once again. I cry out at the difference in sensation. Brut holds each leg under my knees, rocking into me, watching himself enter my body and disappear.
“This is how it always should be,” he says, staring at himself frosted with me, coating him so we work like a well-oiled machine. His eyes move up my body to my face. “Everything and beyond.”
Right now, I almost believe we could have everything and beyond like he mentions. I can pretend this is how it’s always been. My mind races back to the image of him coming home from a day at school and me undressing after a social party. I allow myself to fall into make-believe for a few more minutes.
Brut reaches a pulsing orgasm, pushing me near the edge again as he fills me. He collapses over me when he finishes, covering me like a blanket. His weight pins me in place, and I take it as if I could hold this moment forever. Everything and beyond. But just as quickly, he stands, pulling out of me, and picks up his boxer briefs. He enters my bathroom as the door is just next to the nightstand and returns with a towel. I can’t move and realize I’m still wearing my shoes.
Brut helps me sit up and then squats down to slip off my heels. It’s supposed to be the other way around. The prince glides on the glass slipper, not removes it. But I don’t believe in fairy tales, and our night is only a fantasy.
Brut reaches for the covering on my bed and pulls it back, implying I should crawl in, which I do. I’m suddenly exhausted and satiated but finding the bone weariness quickly returning.
“Brut,” I whisper in question as he folds himself behind me.
“Don’t think. Not yet.” The command reminds me of the beach house. We’re going to need to think eventually, sooner rather than later.
+ + +
I wake to find I’m alone in my bed. I roll to my other side to see Brut standing next to the mattress, staring down at me. He’s dressed with his hands in his pockets.
“I thought the rule was you weren’t allowed to leave the bed in the morning.”
Brut chuckles softly, lowering his head, and I know what’s coming. The end. My heart races as I consider the way we were last night. It appears the final moment has come.
I reach out my hand, and Brut lowers to squat next to the bed. We keep our eyes on one another.
“Thank you,” I whisper, working to keep my voice steady.
Thank you for a second chance at the first time.
Thank you for making me feel alive and sexy.
Thank you for a dance in the rain and making love under the moonlight.
“Why do I feel like you’re saying goodbye?” Brut lowers his lips to cover my knuckles.
“Aren’t you?” My question lingers between us, and when he doesn’t look up, I have my answer. “I want to be there for Chopper, but I don’t want us to be in the way. We had a second helping, Brut. The vacation was a little cupcake carved from the larger cake of life. It was sugar sweet and delicious, but now it’s been devoured. I’m satisfied and full and—”
“Can’t move on without you,” he mumbles into my skin.
“You will, Brut. You did before.”
“Jesus, Lily.” His head shoots up, and his brows pinch. His eyes glisten. I don’t mean to be cruel, just honest. “Why are you doing this?”
Because I’m scared. Because I’m terrified you’ll leave me again after I’ve given you everything…and beyond.
“I think Lauren’s death was a sign. She’s come along again while we were together and torn things apart. It’s a message from a higher power that we aren’t meant to be everything and beyond. More like once upon a time…”
“You don’t really believe that?” His blue eyes shine despite the dimness in my apartment. No, no, I don’t, I want to say, but I don’t know how else to protect myself. I’m overwhelmed with the sense I’ll lose Brut if I give into him again, and I find the only way to save myself is to let him go.
“I think I must,” I lie. We had our tryst. Now, we move forward. I feel strangely at peace as I watch him kiss my knuckles one more time, stand once again, and then reach for his jacket on the chair where he placed it last night. He doesn’t look back as he descends the steps, and I watch him walk away from me. Again. If only it were so easy to convince my heart I mean what I’ve said.
32
30-day grace period
[Lily]
It’s been a long month since Brut walked out my door. Seven weeks since the vacation. We circle one another without ever crossing paths in our mutual desire to support Chopper. Chopper had some complications at first: reading the will, registering her death, and cleaning out Lauren’s few things. Thankfully, Lauren was renting and had no property to sell. Chopper tossed the few items she owned after asking me if I wanted anything. I didn’t. It was sad to me. Her life was over, the end of her line finished. Chopper denied her in all ways despite the unwanted responsibility she placed on him. There was no trace she ever existed other than him.
I was disappointed in my mother and stepfather although I shouldn’t have been. I’d closed that door so long ago nothing should have surprised me, but the fact they neither came to Lauren’s funeral nor called to offer support astonished me. Who leaves their child like that? But then I reconsider. These people were Lauren’s role models. No wonder she walked away from her own child. I always knew I’d take the opposite road. If I had a baby, I’d never leave him behind.
I need to pee for the millionth time. I tell myself it’s nerves, but in truth, I’m sick. Chills. Nausea. Achy breasts. It’s mid-October, and these symptoms seem typical of a fall cold. My complaints also led Ester to prompt me to go to the doctor. I could have gone to an immedia-care clinic, but I have a suspicion about what my real illness is. Ester did too and bought me a test. Two actually.
I step out of the doctor’s office bathroom, leaving behind the requested urine sample, and return to the waiting room.
“Lily?”
Mother of all things.
“Midge.” My breath exhales after her name. This is not good. I haven’t seen Midge since the funeral.
“What are you doing here?” She beams at me, her skin practically glowing.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound chipper like her, but I know her answer.
“I’m pregnant,” she says, stating the obvious. At forty-one, the same age as me, Midge will have her fourth child. I’d be blessed to have one at my age. Tears burn the back of my eyes, and I blink. This is another new development. I’m so emotional lately.
“Are you okay?” Her warm hand comes to mine as I sit next to her.
“I’m not feeling well. I’m just here for a checkup.” It’s not a total lie. On top of all my other symptoms, I seem to have a cold. I sniffle disguising the prickle in my nose.
“This is your OB/GYN?”
I nod, and her fingers tighten around mine.
“Are you pregnant?” My hand comes to my stomach by some strange instinct. I don’t know. I mean, I know. I took the tests, but those can be wrong, right? I’m still in a state of disbelief, but each time I think about it, another emotion occurs. Hope.
A hand covers Midge’s lips, her face glowing brighter. “It’s Brut’s, right?”
Good Lawd.
“Midge, I don’t know.” For a second, I focus on the purple streak in her still auburn hair. It’s long and full looking. I’ve read pregnancy can do that to your hair, thicken it.
“You don’t know if it’s Brut’s?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know if I’m pregnant. I just…” Midge’s probing eyes scan my face. Then leap down to my breasts.
“This isn’t my first time,” she states, hinting at her three boys. “Without being a doctor, I’d have say yes. Yes, you are.”
The tears well again, and I blink rapidly. I’ve been reading up on the risks of pregnancy at an older age. I swallow back a lump in my throat.
“Oh, honey. This is good news, right?”
I twist in my seat, covering Midge’s hand over mine. “Midge, you need to promise me you won’t tell Brut. You won’t intervene. No tricks like the rental.” We still haven’t discussed how Midge and Hank pulled off Brut and me being in the same vacation home. My trip had been planned for months, once Midge told me about the location, but Brut had the time off sprung on him. How had they coordinated everything?
“I don’t know what you mean.” She winks.
“I know you meant well, but Brut and I…it just isn’t meant to be.”
“Why would you say that?” Her brows lift, and her expression would be almost comical if I wasn’t on the verge of tears.
“Look, we had a great time together. I won’t lie and say we didn’t. I won’t say it was a mistake or that I regret it, it’s just…Lauren’s death was a sign that Brut and I were never meant to be.”
Midge pats my arm. “Honey, this might be a sign that you are.”
+ + +
Two days later, I’m lying in my bed. I can’t seem to handle some of the smells in the bakery kitchen without feeling nauseous. The doctor says I’m only six weeks along. I’d feel better if I made it to three months before telling anyone, but at the rate I’m going, I’ll need another worker. I can’t stomach the stench of combinations I normally love.
Footsteps pound up my stairs. Ester has heavy feet for a little thing. She doesn’t know how to walk lightly even for her small stature. I should really have a door installed at the bottom of the staircase for some privacy, but I’ve never considered it before. The open concept of my loft allows me to hear most of the workings of the bakery below.
“How’s it going down there?” My back remains to her as I mumble toward the wall. I’ve left her in charge again after trying to make it through another unproductive morning.
“What’s the matter with you?” The sharp male voice makes me spin on the bed, and I stare up at Brut.
Midge!
“I’m not feeling well. Just needed to lie down a bit.” I sit up slowly, allowing the room to spin a moment. I reach for another tissue. I seem to have developed allergies as well as growing a human inside me. My hand hovers toward my stomach, but I force it down to my knee. I’m not ready to tell Brut.
To my surprise, he folds to squat before me. His hands come to my knees without thought. I’ve missed his touch so much. The innocent act of his palm on my kneecaps prickles my nose, and I blink at the moisture threatening my eyes. I use the tissue to disguise my emotions.
“What’s wrong?”
I wave him off. “Just a cold.”
His brows pinch as he searches my face. My fingers twitch to reach out for his stubbled jaw.
“Can I get you anything?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Midge told me you were sick. Said I should check on you.”
I stand with some effort. The room sways a little, and I hold out my arms to steady myself. My stomach roils.
“Thank you, but I don’t need you to check on me because Midge told you to. I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
“So you once told me.” My head snaps up to face him, but I see he’s teasing me. His hands slip into the pockets of his jeans as he watches me. I move to step around him, but the nausea comes fast.
“Oh shit,” I mumble, covering my mouth and racing for the bathroom just behind him. I crumple to the floor before the toilet, heaving though I know nothing will come up. My stomach suddenly has a force like no other, but nothing inside it to release.
“This doesn’t look good, sugar.” My eyes close at the endearment as I face the inner bowl. Please God, don’t torture me anymore. I will Brut away, but instead, he’s crowding me in my small bathroom.
“I’m okay,” I lie, shaking from the retching reflex. I struggle to stand, using the seat to hoist myself up. Thinking of what I’ve just done, I immediately reach for the sink and wash my hands. As I stand, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing, the tender heat of Brut’s hand comes to my lower back. I blink several times, forcing back more menacing tears. He needs to leave before I’m even more of a mess.
“See, I’m good,” I say to my hands, avoiding the eyes I feel searching for mine in the reflection of my mirror.
“You don’t look so good.” My head shoots up at the insult to discover he’s right. I’m ghostly pale. My lips too light. My eyes too large. I need to lie down again. It will pass. It just takes a little bit.
I try to stand taller, but Brut’s hand doesn’t leave my back. He walks me to my bed and guides me down to the mattress.
“Let me get you some crackers…or some tea.”
“I’m good,” I mutter, motioning toward a small bowl on my nightstand. I keep the saltines handy although the thought of eating one makes me feel nauseous again. Brut squats again, staring at me. I can’t handle the intensity, and my eyes close under the pressure. A cool hand comes to my forehead, brushing my hair back, tucking it behind my ear.
“That feels nice,” I murmur, though I shouldn’t be encouraging anything. He continues to stroke my temple and around my ear, and as I’m slowly drifting off, I imagine I hear, “I miss you, Lily pad.”
+ + +
When I wake, Brut has brought a chair to the side of my bed. Tea steams in a mug on my nightstand.
“Hey,” he says, looking down at me. His elbows perched on his knees, and his clenched fingers hold up his chin.
“How long was I out?” I lift my head, drowsily and search for my phone for the time. I’ve got to get back downstairs. We have orders for a wedding and a grand opening party. Ester can’t do it all alone, even if she has Julia to help her.
A hand comes to my shoulder, pressing me back. “Ester said you normally sleep for an hour. I made you some tea.”
I lie back, staring up at him. What is he still doing here? Why is he being so nice? Does he know? Did Midge tell him when she promised not to?
“I’m okay,” I murmur, and Brut nods h
is head, twisting his lips as he peers over at me.
“I’m not.”
My head rolls on the pillow. “What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately sensing a deeper meaning to his words. His gaze turns toward my couch.
“Chopper misses you. I think the irony is finally catching up to him. Lauren left him behind but then left him responsible for her.”
Most things were settled. Now he waits. Bills need to be paid and a public announcement released about her death. After six months, he’s free of his responsibility of her.
“He hasn’t come to see me lately.” It’s true. I haven’t had much contact with him as the weeks pass. I assumed he had things under control and was possibly avoiding me. Maybe I am too much of a reminder of his mother. The thought makes me sad. If I lose Chopper as well, she’s really taken everything from me.
Brut’s hand comes out to my shoulder, rubbing over the joint and startling me from my thoughts. Lauren might have taken everything from him, too, but she also gave him his son. That’s one thing she did right. My hand comes to my lower belly as if protecting what isn’t more than a lima bean inside me.
Will he think I’ve done the same thing as my sister?
I’ve loved Brut Paige most of my life, and I see the little lima bean as his gift to me. I’ll always have a piece of him to remember our week together.
“Maybe you should call him to check in.” I nod, agreeing. I’ve been a little preoccupied myself, and avoiding Chopper means keeping the truth for as long as I can.
“I’ll do that.”
“Maybe you could call me to check in, too.”
“Brut.” I sigh. I’d love to do that, but where would it lead? Stolen moments? A week’s vacation? I just can’t envision us going anywhere. Then again, I often dream of being with Brut, especially in my condition. I don’t want him to feel trapped, though. I won’t do to him what Lauren did.
“Fine.” He exhales. “I’ll call you.” There’s a determination behind his voice, and my head tilts in question. His head nods, growing more adamant with each shake. “You’ll see,” he says. With this, he stands abruptly, leans forward to kiss my forehead, and removes himself from my apartment.
