by L. B. Dunbar
“Just ask me already,” I tease, sounding desperate and decide to stop the game. He’ll ask me when he’s ready. He lowers to place another kiss on my neck, lingering another moment before standing to his full height. His hands come to my hip, and I lean forward to fix my lipstick. Bending at the waist, I stroke my backside against him. I’m opening the cap and leaning forward, reveling in the feel of him behind me as I do the mundane and apply lipstick. I pause to ask, “Where are we—”
“Will you marry me?” His eyes shift from silver to steel as he watches my reaction in the mirror. I’m still leaning, lipstick in one hand, as I stare back at him in the reflection.
Is he serious? Is he teasing?
“Yes,” I whisper to his image, and I straighten, wanting to turn and look at him. He’s kidding, right? Still watching me, he slips one hand in his pocket and pulls out another ring. He wraps an arm around me from behind, and I no longer make eye contact in the reflective glass. Instead, I glance down at the three-carat before me. Simple. Stunning. Solitaire.
“Hank,” I whisper, his name lingering in the air.
“This isn’t exactly how I wanted it to happen, but you’re right. This is how it started, and I knew the moment you caught my eye in that mirror that you would be mine one day. Those eyes whispered to mine for more, and I’ll never look away from you.”
I watch our reflection as he slips the ring on my finger to join the other one. The promise of one day is here.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“I love you, too. And more.” He spins me, taking my cheeks in his hands and staring directly into my eyes.
“More,” he says, before kissing me, and I know every day with Hank will be a discovery…and more.
Epilogue
Forty-one years old
Three months later
[Midge]
I wake alone in the bed, but not alone in my heart. I hear the noise of a new school year beginning downstairs. Today will be a day of a several fresh starts. I look down at my left hand as I often do and marvel at how lucky I am. A beautiful single diamond stands above the tiny-cut diamond band and a solid silver one. Stacking rings signify my marriage to Hank.
“How long you two been together?” Lily once asked.
“Not long enough,” Hank told her. “And I’ve been waiting too long for her.”
Once Hank asked me to marry him—the official question—he decided he had waited long enough for me. We married a week later at the local courthouse. We didn’t want to keep playing games of hide-and-seek—meaning hide in the bathroom for sex or have Hank sneak out during the night. It might seem fast to some, but my boys and I were ready for Hank to officially be part of our family.
I slip from bed, tug on my robe, and head down the staircase. My stomach flutters with all this day will bring.
“Big day for your mom today,” I hear Hank say from the kitchen.
“She’s gonna be great,” Liam says. I’ve paused on the stairs, listening to the general morning chatter between my boys and the man I love. He’s making lunches and checking schedules. I smile with a shake of my head. Who knew how great forty-one would turn out to be?
“I love her office,” Ronin adds. My office. I like the sound of that. I decided to work from home in a space above my garage. The boys helped me clean out the clutter over the summer and Hank fixed up the walls. Today, I’m pitching Starlight Farms, in Montana of all places. It’s a video-chat conference. After all my designs for Pendelton, I want this account to take my suggestions and make them come to fruition. Not to mention, I think it will add to their company…and mine. I’m taking the risk to go out on my own.
“Ronin, seven o’clock. Practice.” Ronin groans but I hear the smile in his voice. He’s thrilled Hank is his new drum instructor. Hank broke out his old kit and moved it into our garage. He makes Ronin practice under his tutelage each night and then takes a turn himself. He admits he doesn’t want to go back to his old rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, but drumming seems to be a part of him. I like to watch as he bangs away, getting lost in his head and worked up. I worry at times he’s projected back to some memory, some image of him and her on stage, but then he looks up at me. He always catches me watching him as if he knows I’m there.
“It’s your eyes,” he says. “I’ll never look away.”
“I have a date tonight,” Elston announces. His girlfriend is cute, although a little shy around the noise of men. She’ll learn, if she sticks. Then again, Elston is too young to be so seriously involved. He’s only a senior in high school.
“Not tonight,” Hank warns. “Bring Eliza here.”
I chuckle. With summer over, Elston can no longer date on a week night as we return to school days and he knows it, but he’s always pushing just a little. Thank goodness Hank is made of strong stuff. He rolls with the punches from my oldest. It’s been a summer of learning and loving with a few lessons in parenthood in between.
“What’s tonight?” Elston asks.
“We celebrate.” This man. Such confidence in me.
“What are we celebrating?” Ronin asks.
“Let’s not step ahead of ourselves,” I say, descending the final steps into the kitchen. There is one thing I’m confident Hank will celebrate, although I’m nervous to tell him.
“Life is one step at a time.” Hank winks at me. “I’m ready to climb.”
I smile and he bites his lip. We try to keep the PDA on the downlow in front of the boys but sometimes I just want to tackle him despite them. Lately, I seem out of control with sexual need but I now know the reason in addition to my insatiable attraction to him.
“What are we having for dinner to celebrate?” Liam asks.
“Hot dogs,” Hank says, completely serious. “In a hallway.”
I sputter my orange juice, choking a bit as I glare at Hank. Memories of the night before flip through my mind. Elston’s eyes narrow before he groans, adding an ew with an eye roll. He gets the joke. He’s seen We’re the Millers.
“I like hot dogs,” Liam says and Hank chuckles.
“I don’t know what we’re having yet, but time for school young men.” Hank’s taken to calling my boys this and Liam loves it. Elston likes to pretend he doesn’t, but I think he secretly does. The boys shuffle out the door with wishes for a good school year.
“What time is the call again?” Hank asks.
“Ten.”
He glances at the clock on the stove. He goes to Restored Dreams around nine. It’s only seven. Suddenly, he looks over at me. I recognize the expression in those silvery eyes.
“How you feeling about the call?”
“Good,” I lie. I’m nervous, but it’s a good nervous—exciting even. He rounds the island slowly and my stomach flutters. I like how he looks at me, like he could devour me. He had his way with me last night, but I seem to be ready to be his again. He reaches out to brush my hair behind my ear.
“You got this.” He’s been saying this for weeks. I have to admit, he’s a confidence booster. My eyes drift to the array of items littering the island for lunchmaking. He let me sleep in. I’ve been extra tired lately.
“You’re kind of good to me,” I tease, slipping my arms around his waist.
“You’re good for me,” he retorts before his mouth finds mine. I love his kisses, long and languid, and within moments, he’s passed the seam of my lips for tongue. Without missing a beat, I’m lifted to the counter and hear the clank of jars and crinkle of a bread package shoved aside to make way for me. I’m all for making love on this counter but there’s something I need to tell him, and today seems like the perfect day.
I pull back slowly, lingering on his mouth before he travels to my jaw.
“Hank, honey,” I begin, telling myself not to get lost in his lips on my skin. “I need to tell you something.”
“Sure, little lady.” His mouth continues a trail to my chest and my robe is drawn aside to reveal swollen globes longing for his attention. He mutters aga
inst my breast. “I love your tits.”
“They love you,” I giggle, but gently wrap my hands on the sides of his head and force him to look up at me. “Hank, I have to be serious a second.”
With this his head shoots up. Sitting on the counter, I’m more equal with his height and his eyes level with mine.
“Talk to me.” I love the intensity in his tone. He wants to listen to me although I’m hoping what I say isn’t really an issue of concern.
“Remember how I said I wanted to be somebody’s someone?”
Hank’s head twists and his eyes narrow. The silver dulls to gray. “Yeah.”
I cup his cheeks to comfort the concern I see in those eyes.
“How would you feel about being somebody important to someone else?”
Hank gasps. His brows shooting up to his hairline. “I don’t want to be with anybody else.”
I chuckle though his fear is not funny. “No, honey. I mean a different kind of someone. Maybe a little someone.” I’m willing him to understand although I can see he doesn’t. “Maybe a little girl someone.”
His forehead furrows. A deep crease forming between his brows.
“A little girl someone?” He continues to question me with troubled eyes.
“Say, arriving next winter, around Valentine’s Day maybe.” I’m suddenly holding my breath as he appears so puzzled. Then he tilts his head.
“What are you saying, little lady?” He swallows. His eyes closing as he exhales. I can almost feel the hope coming off of him.
“I’m saying there’s the possibility of another little lady loving you, Hank. As her daddy.” His eyes jump to my belly and he rips open the remainder of my robe. The swollen breasts he’s enjoyed and the bulge of my stomach he’s ignored finally make sense to me. I took a pregnancy test a few days ago. I thought it was just the pill messing with my body. I hadn’t been on it for over twenty years. Instead, it turns out…
“I’m pregnant, Hank.”
I’ve only seen this solid man crumble one other time—when he was given a room in Lawson’s home. Now, he falls to his knees, his mouth seeking my belly before arms wrap around my lower body. His face buries in my stomach and his shoulders tremble.
“Hank?” He simply shakes his head against my lower abdomen, refusing to speak to me. He tugs me tighter to his cheek but then quickly releases me.
“Am I hurting her?” He stares at my skin below my belly button.
“No, sweetheart.” My hands return to his face and he peers up at me. “I can’t guarantee a girl, but just maybe.” I bite my lip.
“You’re okay, right?” I know what he means. We’ve discussed how I thought I was too old for a baby, but apparently my body disagrees. “How did this happen?”
I chuckle as we both know the logistics, but also, I’ve been on the pill a few months. “Sometimes these things just do.” I’m thinking it was Mother’s Day weekend in Lawson’s room. A day of another new beginning, giving Hank all that he ever wanted…inside me.
“Just when I couldn’t think of more to make me happy…” He kisses my stomach and then slowly stands. His hands come to my cheeks. “You make me more happy than I ever thought I’d be.”
“I more you,” I whisper.
“Thank you,” he says followed by kisses to my eyes, my cheeks and finally my lips. “Thank you for loving me and more.”
Need a little nibble of Tommy and Edie from After Care?
Here’s a taste.
1
The Introduction
“Is that your daughter?” A pretty blonde sat next to me on the edge of the pool. I fidgeted with the scarf wrapped around my head and smiled.
“Yes.” The beautiful brunette was mine, and even though she was eighteen, she was child-like in spirit, laughing as two little girls splashed her. Watching the younger two frolic in the water reminded me of my own children at that age. Life was much different then.
“Both yours?” I asked, shifting only my eyes to the twenty-something woman, adjusting the scarf once again on my head, waiting for her to notice it. There wasn’t a way to miss it. The thin material made no sense in the heat of the Hawaiian sun, but the traditional paisley patterned bandana in bright yellow made sense to someone like me. I was a breast cancer survivor. If you didn’t know, the head wrap gave it away.
She nodded in response to me and we remained silent a moment.
My eyes closed as I faced the brilliant blue sky, soaking up the sunshine, a welcome reprieve from the frigid temps we left behind in Chicago. I desperately needed this vacation. Party of three, please. I looked forward to the family time with my grown children. We had much to celebrate, the doctors told me. I smiled despite myself as I looked back at the two babes dousing my daughter.
“She’s good with kids,” the young woman remarked, and I stared off at my own child on the verge of womanhood. She’d make a great mother one day. Tears prickled my eyes. I didn’t want to think dark thoughts, but they often crept in. Silently, I hoped I’d get to see the day she mothered a child of her own.
“Cannonball.” A loud male screech erupted from my other baby—more a child than a man at the age of twenty-two. He catapulted into the huge, oddly shaped pool, covering his sister in a tidal wave of water, and drowning the two little girls.
“Caleb,” I shouted but the mother next to me laughed. A man with dark, chin length hair caught one of her daughters under the arms, hoisting her upward from the vigorous aftershock of my son’s jump. Masie held the other. Tiny arms wrapped around my daughter’s neck, holding tight like a second skin. Laughter surrounded all of them.
“That’s Ava,” the woman pointed to the dark-haired one matching her apparent father. “She’s six. And the blonde, choking your daughter is Emaline. She’s four.”
My eyes drifted back to the collection of young people but froze on the man with rock star looks. Deep set eyes, a thin scrap of scruff around his jaw, and the midnight color of his wet hair, added to what I imagined was a brooding look on an average day. Smiling at his child made all the difference in his appearance.
“You can ask,” the woman said. “Yes, it’s him.”
I turned to her, fully facing her equally striking appearance. Softer than his, her face held a playful look in her blue eyes. Puffy, pink lips conjured images of them kissing each other passionately. Passionate enough to create two small daughters. I sighed. It had been a long time since someone kissed me like that. Even the man who created two children with me had fallen out of practice years before everything happened.
“He’s Gage Everly.”
I blinked at her, shaking my head in confusion. “I’m sorry. Should I know him? Do I know you?” My eyes opened wider, a tingle of fear that somehow, I didn’t recognize him when it should be obvious. Not only had the cancer taken my hair, it had taken my memory, I chuckled, knowing that couldn’t possibly be true.
“Gage Everly, lead singer of Collison?” Her brow rose in question, as if I should recognize him or the name of the band.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, cursing the terrible habit I had of apologizing for everything. I’m sorry, I wasn’t younger. I’m sorry, you no longer love me. I’m sorry, I got cancer. “I don’t…” My head shook to acknowledge I didn’t recognize him.
She chuckled softly, clapped a hand, and covered her cheeks. “Oh my, how refreshing.” Her blue eyes beamed brighter than the sky overhead.
“I think it’s just because I’m old,” I weakly smiled, reaching for the bandana once again. My hair had moved from the stages of peach-fuzz to crazy C-shapes and kinky, curly Qs, going in all directions. I didn’t need the material covering my head, but sometimes, I felt safer wearing it. My hair color hadn’t returned to my natural fading brown, but a mixture of white and dirty blonde.
You can dye it whatever color you want when approved, Nurse Marjorie had told me. Purple’s very popular for people your age. Her sweet, innocent voice intended to encourage me. Instead, I wanted to erase the smir
k on her lips.
Your age. I was forty-three. I should have been in the prime of my life. Where was that sexual libido return everyone promised me would happen? Oh, right, it walked out the door with a younger model—blonde, thin, and cancer-free under her skin.
The new hair combination caused conflicting emotions. On one hand, the brilliant color reminded me of my growing age. On the other hand, the change from lackluster to vibrant aided to the new personae I wanted to adapt. It was time for a change.
“Oh.” My companion’s eyes opened wide, “Oh, I wasn’t implying…I mean…It’s just that…” Her hands waved in front of her as she swung her thin body toward me. “It’s just everywhere we go people know it’s him. It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t recognize Gage.”
I smiled. I didn’t know how to respond. A child squealed and I turned my attention to the pool, noting my son in a deep conversation with her husband. Masie still held one girl while the other tried to climb her father. Caleb wanted to be a guitarist when he was younger. It was his life’s ambition, until he discovered baseball. The sport became my ex’s dream for our son. Watching Caleb, his body straightened, his awe trained on the man before him—someone I didn’t recognize, but surely Caleb did.
A gruff voice behind us bellowed, “Please step away from him.”
My body twisted to face the sound, rich in baritone, tough as a boulder, and rugged like gravel under bare feet. I shivered despite the heat. Two thick arms crossed a midnight colored T-shirt stretched over the barrel chest of an older man, rightfully in his forties with silvery hair curling at his neck and salt-and-pepper facial scruff. He wore black pants, balancing himself with a wide stance of thick legs. Regardless of tinted aviators, the weight of his eyes bored into me. Rock star sprang to my mind.
