I look at Brandi for a moment and then back at Caleb. “I guess so,” I say. “Honestly, I’d like a chance at the bastard again.”
“All right, great,” Caleb says just as the server is making her way back over with our drinks. We order our lunch, and she trots off again. Caleb leans back in his chair. “So, in the meantime, I do have a new match lined up for you in six weeks.”
“Six weeks? That’s cutting it pretty close to Brandi’s due date. I don’t know if I want to plan something-”
Caleb holds up his hand. “Look, this is an important match. If you win this one, it’ll be enough to convince Donte’s manager that you’re back in the game. If you can beat this guy, your career is going to take off again. No more grunge matches. We’re talking about getting your ass back in the big leagues.”
Brandi nudges me. “It’s okay, Jonathan. I’m not due for another almost eight weeks. We’ll be fine.”
I nod. “All right, you heard the lady,” I say and look at Caleb. “Sounds like I’ve got a match to get ready for.”
“That’s the spirit,” Caleb says. Our food arrives, and we eat and chat about this upcoming match. I’ve actually heard of this boxer –Evan Mits. He’s no longer what you could consider up and coming, but he’s not hugely big time like I was. He’s gotten some attention in the boxing world lately, so I’m actually a bit surprised Caleb was able to book a match with him. Things are certainly looking up as far as my boxing career goes. Here’s to hoping that it continues moving forward.
70
Another busy day at the gym; I swear, it’s like every other piece of equipment decided to break today. Thankfully, I don’t have any classes to teach until tonight, but still this is driving me crazy. I feel like I’m spending half the time in this storage closet looking for parts and the other half on my hands and knees repairing treadmills. This is supposed to be a high-end gym where only professional athletes and wealthy soccer mom types hang out; you would think the equipment wouldn’t be so flimsy!
I’m digging around through some unlabeled boxes, trying to find a replacement part for one of the now damaged speedbags, when I hear the door to the storage room open. Assuming its Alex, I call out, “Still looking for that part. We really need to organize this room better. I’ll see what I can do about that after the marathon, but right now I’m overbooked up here.”
“Good to know,” I hear Laurel’s voice quip, and I turn around to see her standing there with her hands on her hips.
“Sorry,” I say as I stand up from the ground. “Thought you were Alex.”
“Figured as much,” she says and begins sorting through some of the shelves. “Just looking for the mat cleaner. I swear, it was here yesterday.”
“Like I said, we need to organize this room big time,” I say. I help her look, and we make awkward small talk. She asks me about my upcoming match, and I smile slightly. “Should be good. It’ll be the first actual challenge I’ve had since getting back in the game.”
“Aren’t you high and mighty?” she teases.
“Awe, come on, you know what I mean. So far Caleb has set me up with nothing but amateur pin-heads who thought they could take on someone with nearly ten times more experience and muscle than them.” I laugh slightly. “This guy I might actually have something to worry about if I let myself get sloppy. He’s up and coming, but he’s good.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of Mits,” Laurel says. “Britany has a poster of him in her apartment.”
I laugh, loudly. “Oh, God, I can’t wait to screw with her about that one.”
“Don’t you dare tell her I told you that!” Laurel chastises, but I can’t help but to pick fun.
“Any bit of ammo you can give me against Britany, I’m going to use. She gave me hell when I first started here, remember?” I can feel my voice becoming lighter and softer as I become more comfortable talking to Laurel. We’re not even looking for the mat cleaner anymore.
“Oh, believe me, I remember. I helped you clean up that mess she left in the locker room,” Laurel laughs loud enough that a slight snort emerges. She blushes and covers her mouth and looks away from me for a moment.
“Come one, you know I’ve always told you that little snort is cute,” I say, trying to reassure her not to be embarrassed.
“It’s not that,” she says and looks at me with these big, sad eyes. “I just miss you, Jonathan. I miss talking to you. I miss being around you.”
I share her solemn expression. “I feel the same way,” I say.
Laurel’s eyes glance over to the corner where some beanbags are laid out. Her eyes glisten slightly. “Do you remember the last time we were in this room together?”
I have to angle my stance slightly so she doesn’t notice my hard on in these gym shorts. “I remember,” I say and glance back at the beanbags we had tainted.
There is a pause.
I’m not sure who moved first, but soon we’re locked in this tight embrace and our lips are pressed together. I run my hands up the back of her tank top, tracing the contours of her back. I feel her reach around my back and slip her fingers into the rim of my gym shorts, giving my lower back a slight massage. God, I miss this.
I squeeze her tightly in my arms, and a slight moan erupts from her throat that drives me insane. We scoot back over to those beanbag chairs, and she falls down on them, and I fall on top of her. I throw my shirt off, and she wiggles out of her tank and sports bra. I miss those breasts. I lean down and suction my mouth onto her left tit, and she squeals slightly in her delight. Her arms wrap around me, and she scratches my back with her nails; it sends a slight shiver up my spine.
She’s got her hair in her typical ponytail she wears at the gym, and I tug at it slightly, making her tilt her head back so that I can bite at her neck. Her hands work their way down, and they slip into my shorts; one of her hands grip my now incredibly hard cock. Damn it, what am I doing? Something about her touch snaps me back into reality, and I jolt back and away from her. I feel myself slip out of her grasp, and I wind up falling back and landing flat on my ass on the concrete floor. There’s a lump in my throat as I say, “I can’t,” and hurry to my feet. I look away from her, and I can hear her scurrying to get her bra and tank back on.
Her voice is shaky, and I wonder if she’s crying –I hope she’s not, but I can’t bring myself to look at her. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Look at me, Jonathan,” her voice is stern now.
I turn and look at her; she’s fully dressed now. “I’m sorry, Laurel.”
“Jonathan, I get it. I really do,” she says, this sad expression taking away that gorgeous smile of hers. “I respect your decision to try to make things work with Brandi. You’re trying to salvage your family. I understand. This is my fault. I only came in here because you were in here by yourself. The damn mat cleaner is out on the gym floor. I’m sorry.”
“I still love you,” I say, but I shouldn’t have said it. It only makes it hurt worse.
“I still love you,” she says back. “I’m sorry, Jonathan,” she says and then hurries to leave the storage room. She pauses, turns back around, and points over by the beanbags. “Um… that part you’re looking for is in a box right there. I, uh, noticed it when we were lying down.” She blushes slightly and hurries out.
I turn and see what box she was talking about. I have to wait a minute before leaving because my damn cock is still standing straight up. It’s kind of hard to hide something like that in loose fitting gym shorts. Once I’m good, I head out to the main floor gym and try not to look up at the ring where Laurel is taking her sexual frustration out on poor Katie. “Shit, Laurel, calm your ass down,” I hear Katie say after taking a serious punch during their sparring session.
Lunch does not come fast enough, and I practically run out the door to get to my Volkswagen. I had brought my lunch, but fuck that. I’m going out and putting some distance between me and this gym for an hour. As I am heading out, I spot Brandi in the parking lot. It surprises me, and I hurry ove
r to her. She looks so miserable. “Brandi? What are you doing? You should be home resting.”
She smiles at me. She had driven my Ferrari here. “I just thought you and I could have lunch together,” she says, clearly regretting her decision to leave the house.
I laugh and I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Getting bored sitting around the house all day?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” she gripes. All of a sudden she looks past me and starts waving her arm. “Hey! Laurel!” she says, and I cringe and look over my shoulder to see Laurel heading towards her car.
Laurel looks anxious and wide-eyed, but she does not deny the unusually perky pregnant woman a wave. After a moment Laurel and I both realize that Brandi is waving her over. Brandi leaves my side for a second and walks towards Laurel, and I can hear my own heart pounding. The two women meet in the middle, but they are too far away for me to hear their conversation. They’re both smiling, so I assume it’s fairly pleasant. Soon Brandi returns, and Laurel practically sprints over to her car to get away –Brandi doesn’t notice, though. She’s all smiles when she comes back to me. “What was that about?” I ask nervously.
“I just wanted to thank her,” Brandi says. “I’ve been meaning to.”
“Thank her?” I question. “For what?”
She touches my arm and smiles this very sad smile my way. “For helping you, Jonathan. God, I just ran when things got rough. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened to you. She helped you, right?”
“Um… yeah,” I say.”
Brandi smiles. “I mean, I suppose I could be jealous, but I’m not. She was really good to you. And I’m just sad that she had to be the one to be your support system. I should have been the one who was there for you, but I wasn’t.” She kisses my cheek. “Come on, let’s go to lunch. You have an hour, right?”
I smile and we climb into the Ferrari. I’m not really sure what to think about this little interaction between Laurel and Brandi, so I move past it for the time being. Brandi feels so guilty, but she shouldn’t. I did shatter her elbow, bust her lip, and give her a black eye when she got in the way with my fight with Donte. I did fall to alcoholism. I did lose my job. She was pregnant and scared. She had every right to walk away, yet she feels guilty. How did I get so lucky? Brandi obviously cares about me. And I almost cheated on her! I am the one who should feel guilty.
71
I’m standing next to Marty’s brother as Marty does his nervous sway –shifting his stance from his left foot to his right foot every few seconds. We’re all dressed in our fine suits as a crowd stares at Marty, waiting for the bride to come down the aisle. The lineup is Marty in the middle, then Tyler, then me. Randy is next; I see him heading into the garden where the ceremony is under way, a bridesmaid hooked to his arm. I grin to see the pissed off look on the girls face; I’m sure Randy said something nasty to her. The kid is a real pervert.
After Randy comes Bobby; he looks so out of place. Poor guy. The rest of us, no offense to Bobby, are kind of big, muscularly built guys. He’s just this scrawny little lawyer, and he looks like a real pipsqueak standing next to the tallest bridesmaid in the bunch. Bobby takes his place as does the bridesmaid he had been escorting. I do a head count, and I realize there’s going to be a bridesmaid entering by herself. I hadn’t realized there was one more bridesmaid than groomsmen; hell, I could have walked two girls down –or anyone of us could have. It only takes about thirty seconds for me to realize why.
The last girl comes walking in, and she’s carrying a picture frame. It’s a photo of Gabe. Shit, Marty –the son of a bitch is going to make me cry on his wedding day. I wish he would have warned me. I glance to my right, and I can see that Tyler is close to losing it when he realizes what the girl is carrying. Randy grabs a stool and places it beside Bobby and helps the bridesmaid set up the photograph.
Marty gets a little teary eyed, and I do too. I try my best to keep my composure, but I feel a couple of tears trickle down; I wipe them away quickly. I look out into the crowd of people, and I see Brandi giving me a sympathetic smile. She’s sitting with Marianna, Tyler’s date. Marianna is one of the fighters; I’m glad she didn’t dump Tyler after me, his friend, screwed with Laurel the way I did. They make a good pair.
The flower girl comes bolting down the aisle, and there is a soft laughter amongst the crowd as the little girl flings flower petals everywhere, and she stops at the front of the aisle and dumps the rest of the basket out onto the ground. I chuckle, and I see Brandi staring at the young girl with these excited eyes. Is she pondering about our baby girl? Picturing what she would look like? I know I am, and I smile at the little flower girl as she gets flustered trying to remember where she’s supposed to stand; one of the bridesmaids points, and the girl stands where the bridesmaid had pointed and smiles proudly as though she had accomplished an amazing task.
Amy enters, and the crowd stands. I can see Marty getting worked up, and I smile. The guy is really head over heels for Amy. I can’t help but to wonder if I will ever feel that way about Brandi again. The vows are really cheesy, and I’m sure Tyler and I will give Marty hell about it later, but at the same time they’re sweet and loving. Damn, I miss feeling that way about someone.
The ceremony draws to a close, and the bridal party –myself included –stick around the ceremony site for pictures while the rest of the guests head to the reception hall inside the venue for partying and drinking. “Congratulations, you two,” Tyler sings and clasps both of them on the shoulder. “You should have told us about that photo of Gabe, man,” Tyler says, “you about had me bawling. Jonathan lost it.”
“Cool it, man,” I warn.
Marty smiles. “Sorry. I probably should have given you a heads up about it. I kept telling Amy how I wished he could have been here, and she came up with the idea of the photo.”
I smile at Amy. I was glad that Gabe got to be a part of it somehow. Soon we head to the reception, and we do this grand entrance thing. Brandi is really tired, so she doesn’t do much dancing. We do wind up swaying awkwardly by our table to one slow song; I of course don’t do any drinking –being a recovering alcoholic and all. Bobby feels my pain; he’s been sober longer than I have been, though.
I can’t get over how miserable Brandi looks; it must be one of those rough days. She’s been having a lot of those lately. The due date is still five weeks away, so she’s in the final stretch now. She’s sweaty, panting, and she keeps having to sit down almost as soon as she stands. Honestly, I’m getting close to asking if she just wants to leave. I mean, I’d love to stay and hang out with my good friend since he just got married and all, but I can tell she is just trying to stick it out for me.
“Hey, Brandi, are you all right?” I ask as we enjoy our free dinner. The cake is being cut, and I know she’s been eyeing it all night.
“Just not feeling like myself,” she says and waves it off like it’s nothing. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“I’m just pregnant, Jonathan,” she asserts.
I’m not buying that. Just as the servers are passing out the cake, Brandi lets out this little yelp. I glance over at her; she’s gripping her stomach. “Brandi?” I question.
“It’s probably just Braxton hicks,” she says. Suddenly she grips her stomach, lets out another feint cry, and then looks down. “Oh shit,” she says.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Jonathan, I either just pissed myself, or my water broke.” She looks mortified.
“What?” I stand up and hurry to her side. “You’re not due for another five weeks.”
She lets out a slight cry and grips her side. “Shit,” she says. “Oh shit, that hurts.”
“Come on, let’s get you to a hospital,” I say, and Bobby stares at us from across the table. He’s the only one of the groomsmen still seated and not up dancing and drinking, so he got to enjoy that entire interaction. He jumps up and hurries to help me help Bran
di up out of her seat. Her legs are pretty much no use; she keeps cringing and heaving over.
We attract the attention of several bridesmaids and groomsmen –Marty and Amy too. “Oh my gosh!” Amy squeals, “are you in labor?”
“I think so,” Brandi says.
Amy looks more excited than Brandi; Brandi just looks completely freaked out. “Think we’re going to have to leave early, man,” I say to Marty, and Brandi squeezes the shit out of my shoulder for making a joke.
“Of course! Go!” Marty says.
Bobby and Tyler both walk us out to the car to ensure that Brandi gets into the Ferrari okay. Damn, I hate that we took the Ferrari. I mean, I love my Volkswagen and all, but I don’t want her having the baby in the damn Ferrari! At least the Ferrari is fast. Brandi and I peel out and head straight for the hospital. My nerves are shot. Five weeks! Five weeks early? This can’t be good.
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72
I suppose I should just be glad that we made it to the hospital on time, but seeing my baby girl in that little box makes me sick to my stomach. Ambriel is the tiniest little thing I have ever seen, and I can’t even hold her. Thankfully, we were able to be in a room with her. I know some hospitals keep the baby and mom separate when stuff like this happens, but at this particular hospital the NICU rooms are set up with a bed for mom too.
Brandi is passed out, so I’m sitting up by myself just staring at Ambriel. Four pounds, fifteen ounces. I suppose it could be a lot worse. The doctors keep telling me that Ambriel is fine –that she’s just tiny. They did a hundred different tests pretty much immediately, and Brandi is about to lose her mind not being able to hold her yet. Ambriel has only been here for about three hours, but it’s crazy how much I love that little girl already.
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 152
