One Final Chance: a friends to lovers, stand-alone novel

by LK Collins

  “That’s not really relevant, is it?”

  He’s right. It isn’t.

  “Are you coming with me, then?”

  “Thirty seconds?” he asks and starts kissing me, but I wiggle out of his hold, which really is tragic because he’s so sexy. Fuck, I’m still pissed at myself for not seeing what was right in front of me all along.

  After we are dressed, Parks and I head out.

  “You want me to drive?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  We make the short trip across town to where both our parents live. As he drives, his hand is on my thigh, his fingers are strumming back and forth, and as much as that would typically be distracting, I spend the entire drive wondering what the heck I’m about to tell my parents.

  “Ready?” I hadn’t realized we were in their driveway, so I manage a small smile, trying to cover my anxiety.

  “Yeah.”

  “No eye-fucking me while we’re in here, ’kay?”

  I laugh. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “You know you’re a terrible liar.”

  “Not any worse than you.” We get out of the truck and both glance over at his parents’ house. “You think they are home?”

  “No, they were taking the boat out today.”

  “Oh my God, I miss that boat.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, don’t you?”

  “Nah, the water still freaks me out after losing Meg.”

  “Sometimes the ocean does for me, too, but not the Puget Sound.”

  “True.” And we both know that’s where my parents always take their boat.

  We walk through the front door of the house and barely make it two steps before my mom has us both in a tight hug. It’s as if she was standing here waiting for us.

  “Hey, Mom,” I cheerfully hug her back.

  “Roger, they’re here!” she hollers and then holds me by the shoulders, saying, “I’m so glad you’re okay, Fallon.”

  “You know I always will be.”

  “Not always. What Leo did could easily have happened to you.”

  My dad comes into the room and gives us both a hug before we move to the living room.

  “What happened with Leo?” my mom asks, glancing at Parks’ hand wrapped around mine. I glance at Parks, wishing he could just handle this all for me. But he can’t, so I relive the unfortunate events that led to the end of my and Leo’s relationship. My dad is the first to break the silence that follows.

  “I told you he was no good.”

  “I know, Dad. And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

  “It’s what kids do,” he grumbles and then points to the two of us. “So, how long has this been going on?”

  “It’s pretty new,” Parks answers.

  “I can’t wait to tell Barbara and Frank that we knew first!” my mom exclaims.

  “Uhhh, they kind of already know,” Parks breaks the news gently, but my parents still look as if he just told them their dog had died.

  “What? Why would you tell them first?” We all chuckle, and Parks says, “Sorry, we didn’t mean to.”

  “Well, what else are we the last to know?” Parks shakes his head, but I figure I might as well come clean about my job. I hate keeping things from my parents. I really do.

  “I also left my job.” I leave out the part that it was my boss who told me to leave. It’s better to say it that way then to try to explain that my boss was a psycho bitch who hated me and fired me for a few wrong time cards.

  “Why?”

  “Yeah, I though you loved it there,” my mom adds.

  “It was okay. But—”

  “It was my idea,” Parks jumps in. “I need her to help with my photography business. This National Geographic feature is going to create a buzz, and things are going to get overwhelming for me. Fallon has a sharp eye for photography, so I asked for her help.”

  His save is unexpected. He’s never said such a thing to me. Granted, my parents don’t know that, and they have always been proud of Parks and his success. I can see the smile across their faces as they wait for me to answer, which I do with a smile and a nod.

  Nineteen

  Parks

  After our visit with Fallon’s parents the other morning, she hasn’t given me a straight answer about my proposal. “I meant what I said. I could use your help with the business, and I do believe you have a good eye for it,” I tell Fallon as we sit in the doctor’s office, waiting for what feels like an eternity for someone to come in and see us.

  “I appreciate the offer, Parks, but I can’t keep depending on you to fix all the problems in my life.”

  “Is that really how you see it?” I ask her, holding on to her hand. “I’d love working with you everyday; it’d be a dream come true.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, don’t you think?”

  “It would be amazing, and I don’t want to lie to my parents or worse, let them down. You really think I have an eye for it?”

  “I do, I’ve always told you that. And the pictures you took the other day on our hike were spot on, that’s raw talent, you can’t teach that, baby.”

  Her mouth spans from ear to ear, and I lean in to kiss her, but there is a knock on the door.

  “Ms. Wrenshaw, thank you for waiting,” the spunky woman says as she walks into the exam room.

  “Please, call me Fallon.”

  “All right, Fallon. I’m Dr. Cornelius, and who’s this lucky guy?” she asks, looking at me.

  “Parks, the baby’s dad.” I shake her hand as she sits on a small stool opposite the two of us. I still have a hard time lying about being the father. Yes, I want it more than anything, and both of us know Leo is not fit to be a parent, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

  “Well, congratulations you two. Is this your first?” Fallon nods. “Do you know how far along you are?”

  “Not really, the hospital never did an ultrasound and my periods are always screwy.”

  “All right, we can measure your little peanut today. How have you been feeling?”

  “Good.”

  “Great, that’s good news. You wanna lie back?” She adjusts the table, and Fallon lies back and then lifts her shirt. “Can you unbutton your pants, please?” Fallon does so, and the small glimpse I get of the top of her sex has all the blood rushing to the tip of my shaft.

  Jesus, not here.

  “This might be cold, I’m sorry.”

  The doctor squeezes out some blue goo on Fallon’s tummy, powers up the machine, and then starts to move a wand thing around her stomach. All three of us watch the screen, waiting for the first glimpse of the baby.

  “There it is,” the doctor says, and man is she right. Covered across the screen is the tiny resemblance of a child, Fallon’s child.

  “Is it healthy?” she asks.

  The doctor moves the probe all around and then says, “Yeah, looks good.”

  She points to the tiny flicker that is the baby’s heartbeat before clicking a few buttons on the machine. The sound of our baby’s heart pulsating fills the room, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more amazing in my life.

  “Is that the baby?” Fallon whispers as if she’s afraid to break the magic of this moment.

  “Absolutely, the heart rate is normal, and all your blood work came back great,” she says, which is a relief. Fallon has been stressing about the drinking she’d done before she found out she was pregnant, but the hospital reassured us and clearly so is Dr. Cornelius.

  “How far along is she?”

  “By the size, I’d say about ten to eleven weeks.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, so you guys are about in your second trimester. I’d like to see you in two weeks to check the progress, and as long as you stay on this track and are feeling well, then we can stick to once a month visits.”

  The doctor wipes the goop off Fallon’s stomach, turns the monitor off, and then hands us a strip of pictures she printe
d during the exam.

  “Thank you,” we both tell her, and she leaves the room.

  “That’s great news, huh?” Fallon doesn’t answer in words—she just nods and stares at the pictures.

  “Ready to eat. I’m starving. I’m sure you are, too.”

  “God, yes.” She bites her lower lip between her teeth, and I help her off the table, then we head out of the doctor’s office, hand in hand, the way I’ve so quickly grown to love.

  “Where do you want to eat?” I ask her as we walk out to the warm summer day.

  “Anywhere.” She is staring at the pictures deep in thought, and eventually lets out a tiny sigh then turns to me. “This all suddenly feels real.”

  “What do you mean?” I hold open the door to a small café, letting her walk ahead of me.

  “The baby. It’s like before today, I really didn’t think I was pregnant.”

  “I understand,” I tell her, as the hostess seats us by one of the windows in the back. “Thanks,” I tell her, pulling out Fallon’s chair.

  After taking the seat across from her, I reach for the pictures she’s studying and can’t believe how big the baby already is. “Jesus, look at all those fingers and toes and shit.”

  “I know. How crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  The waitress takes our drink order, and then we both open our menus, knowing we need to make a decision on lunch soon.

  “What are you getting?” I ask Fallon as she quickly sets hers down.

  “A bread bowl with soup.”

  “Uhhh, let me guess, chicken noodle?”

  She smiles, and I chuckle. I know everything there is to know about her. She rolls her eyes at my laughter. After I decide what I want to eat, I close my menu and lean forward on my elbows.

  “You know that I meant what I said. I want you to work with me.”

  “Yeah, but doing what?”

  “I want you to help me run the photography business. Really I’m a bit overwhelmed and could really use your help. We’ll split everything fifty-fifty.”

  “No way. You’ve worked your entire life to create that company and get it to where it is. I’m not just gonna take half of it.”

  “I want to share it with you. Fallon, I love you, and that’s never going to change. I’m all in . . . forever.”

  Twenty

  Fallon

  Parks really made it impossible for me not to agree to start working with him. And since then, it has all happened so quickly.

  Now, here we are about to buy me some expensive ass cameras. “Maybe we should consider a cheaper model or just one?” I ask, and both Parks and the sales associate look at me like I’ve offended their mothers or something. “No, we’ll take these,” Parks says to the guy.

  “Or not . . .” I mumble under my breath.

  “You can’t talk to your boss that way,” Parks teases me, squeezing my ass as the worker has his back to us ringing up the order.

  “Yes, I can. I’m your fifty-fifty partner, remember?”

  “Damn it,” he mutters, and the guy hands us back the camera all bagged up and a receipt to sign. My stomach feels nauseated for every dollar that is on there, but I lean over and give him a kiss.

  “Thank you, Parks.” I may hate that he just spent that much money on a camera for me, but I refuse to be ungrateful.

  “Don’t thank me just yet.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask him as we get into his truck.

  “You promise you won’t freak out?”

  “Any more than finding out you’ve been in love with me for our entire lives? Probably not.”

  He starts the engine, letting the cool air blow on the two of us, but he doesn’t take it out of park.

  “I’ve always wanted to take pictures of you . . .” He doesn’t need to finish for me to know exactly what he means. The thought is not entirely unwelcome, either.

  “Ahh, have you now?” I ask and glance at his growing cock. “Why haven’t you asked me then?”

  “Because we were friends.”

  “But you could’ve pretended I was your client.”

  He swallows, and I reach over, cupping his massive shaft through his tight jeans.

  “So, what are you gonna do with these pictures if I let you take them?”

  “Stare at them.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I’ll probably jerk off to them, too.”

  “Like this?” I ask and unbutton his pants, yanking out his cock. I stroke him, and he groans deeply from the back of his throat. I doubt there has ever been a sexier noise.

  “You don’t need to jerk off anymore. You have me, now.”

  His hand cups my face, and I lean in kissing him, our tongues quickly becoming tangled as they duel. When Parks and I are intimate, the connection is strong, and it seems as if neither one of us can get enough.

  Then I back away from his lips and nip on his earlobe, whispering in a low, seductive tone, “Drive.”

  He puts the vehicle in reverse, and I lean over, eyeing his dick and sending a silent thank you to whoever tinted his windows so dark. Unable to help myself, I bend a little more so I can spin my tongue over the tip before slowly sinking down on him. I can only make it about halfway, but I stroke him deep at the base with my hand.

  “I don’t think this is safe,” he says.

  “No?”

  “No, you make me want to lose control.”

  “Just drive,” I order him again and get lost sucking on him

  Parks grunts, gripping the wheel and trying not to buck his hips while I indulge in my new favorite pastime.

  By the time we get home, my pussy is drenched, and Parks slams the truck in park before we even come to a stop. I laugh as I slide off the seat and glance over at him, watching as he shoves his dick back into his pants.

  “Come on, either run, or I’m carrying you.”

  I get out the car as slow as a snail and can see how impatient it’s making him, but I love to play with him. He swats my ass, and I giggle as he groans into my ear, “Go!”

  “Yes, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

  He has the bag of cameras in his hand and heads upstairs ahead of me. “Hey?”

  I holler up to him, and he yells back, “I told you to run.”

  Taking my time, as I stroll along the sidewalk that leads to his condo, I find it actually hard to walk at this pace. When I finally make it inside, Parks is fumbling to piece together one of my cameras, the thirty-five mm one, and now it makes sense why he wanted to buy two of them. He wants to be able to develop the pictures here.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “You’re really bossy today,” I jokingly complain as I flip the lock behind me. “Oh, you have no idea.” His cock is still hard, pressing up against his jeans and I find myself turned on even more by his controlling nature.

  “Like this?” I ask and step out of my shoes. He begins to snaps pictures of my every move. Reaching down, I grip the hem of my tank top and pull it over my head as the shutter clicking echoes through the air.

  “What next?” I ask him.

  “Pants,” he says, releasing the button on his jeans at the same time as I release mine. He yanks the zipper down, exposing his hard shaft to me and making my mouth water all over again. I move slowly, allowing him to take as many pictures as he wants.

  Fuck, I really love everything about him.

  “Now?” I ask once I’m down to just a bra and panties.

  “You choose.”

  “Really?” He nods and grips his shaft in one hand slowly stroking as I slide my bra off, drop it to the floor, and then turn to slide my panties down my legs, making sure to bend slowly at the waist as I do so. He keeps taking pictures, capturing my every move.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

  I smile as I straighten and turn to walk toward him, urging him to sit on the couch so I can straddle him.

  “Are you getting this?” I ask and slowly lower myself down around him. The cam
era keeps snapping, giving me my answer.

  He groans the way he always does when we have sex, and once he is buried all the way inside me, I rest my hands back on his thighs and begin to move.

  My pussy is tight, and his big cock has me stretched so wide. Parks takes the camera and holds it above his head, snapping a few more photos before setting it on the couch next to us and gripping my hips as he barrels himself in and out of me.

  I scream wildly, the pleasure racing through me is so intense I could already come. He has his eyes on the point where our bodies connect, and I look down watching it, too, but the vision is too much to handle, and I clench my pussy tightly, fighting the orgasm that he is pulling from me.

  “God, yes,” I cry, feeling the bliss race through my limbs.

  “Let go and cum on my cock, baby,” he orders me, and I lose my breath. My body spirals into an orgasmic obscurity. Relishing in my release, I feel the warm pumps of his cum enter my body, sending me a sudden reminder that the baby I am carrying is not his. My pleasure quickly turns to agony. I try to fight it, not wanting to ruin this moment, but the tears spill from my eyes and Parks stops, alarmed by my sudden change in demeanor.

  Twenty-One

  Parks

  I grip onto her body tightly. Afraid to ask what is wrong. Her sobs won’t stop, and I’m actually terrified that I’ve hurt her or that maybe she regrets this. I always knew if I somehow got lucky enough to have her that it wouldn’t last, and that fear is what kept me quiet for so many years. When you love someone the way I love Fallon, you put them first, knowing your own feelings don’t matter as long as they are happy. So right now, I take a deep breath and ask, “What’s wrong?”

  She tries to talk to me through a sob, but I can’t clearly make out her words.

  “Baby . . .” I cup her cheek, but her crying gets worse.

  Her green eyes are glazed over and red as she confesses, “I wish the baby was yours.”

  “The baby is mine. I told you that doesn’t matter to me.” Placing my hand over her stomach, I try to will her to really understand what I’m about to say. “I’m gonna raise this child as my own . . . end of story.” And I mean every word I say.