Use Me

by Mj Fields

  “Better than fine,” I hear Melanie say before she laughs.

  I bring the phone to my ear and yawn out, “Hi, Melanie.”

  “Girl, tell that beast of a man I can talk to you any damn time I want,” she snaps.

  “We’ll get there,” I say, slightly amused.

  “You did it, Tatum! You made all three lists: USA Today, New York Times, and Wall Street Journal!”

  “What?” I gasp.

  “All. Three. Lists!” she shrieks into the receiver. “In romance, Tatum! Ro... mance.”

  “We did it!” I say on a laugh as I lean over and kiss Angelo’s cheek. “We made all three lists.”

  “Yes, we did!” Melanie hoots. “Now get your ass back here, so we can have a victory dinner date. Ne, you, and your mom!”

  “I’m here, Mel.”

  “And planes fly in and out of that hell hole every day,” she says, not sounding as enthusiastic.

  I stand, looking in the mirror at myself. In the past month, my breasts have grown and become even more sensitive. Two weeks ago, I winced while Angelo and I made love, and he all but jumped out of bed, worried he had hurt me, and then angry at himself for not being more cautious with me in my “current situation.” He is very attentive to every inch of my body, and I love it.

  I try to push my breasts inside the dress that they barely fit in. I’m not sure I like them peeking out, and I wonder how Angelo will react. The thought excites me. Secretly, I hope it drives him crazy. They aren’t as sensitive anymore, so maybe, just maybe, he will let loose and forget my “current situation” if he has to stare at them all night. One can hope.

  I run my hands down my body until they land on my belly. I try to imagine my belly has grown with this child, the one Angelo and I created together, inside of me. Honestly, I cannot wait to see my belly grow.

  I turn sideways and assess the current situation that is my ass. That has grown. Of course I would be one of those women who carries her child in her ass instead of a cute, little belly.

  Angelo walks into the bathroom, and I turn from the mirror. His eyes start at my feet and move up my legs. He likes my legs. Then they slowly move up, assessing every inch of me and finally come to land on my breasts. The muscles in his jaw twitches and an audible hum vibrates in his chest that hits me right between the thighs.

  His eyes rise and finally meet mine. I can’t help smirking, which causes his beautiful eyes to narrow briefly like he wants to tell me something, but then reels it in.

  “Come on,” he says.

  “Does this dress make me look fat?” I ask, hoping to sound more female-like.

  “Legs for miles and all mine, Tatum. You look more and more beautiful every day. I can’t wait until your belly is round and you can’t even get out of our bed.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I better not get that damn fat.”

  “I’ll love every inch of you.” His eyes move to my lips, then to my chest again. “Now let’s go.” He pats my ass as he walks out the door.

  I grab my phone from the counter and see a missed call from Melanie.

  Breathe Again has remained on all three lists since it was released, and she is beyond annoyed that I told her there would be no celebration without Angelo. And I meant it. He is as much an author of Breathe Again as I am. It may not be his name on those bestseller lists, but I will not discredit what he gave me in that book.

  Rubbing my belly, I think, And in my life.

  “You look amazing. Let’s go,” Angelo says as he groans, slipping his feet into black dress shoes.

  “Why don’t we stay home?” I ask, wondering why the gorgeous man in front of me is in black dress slacks, an ivory colored button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, and his hair is down while he’s awake.

  I have learned in our time together that Angelo always wears his hair pulled up in a manbun except when he first gets out of the shower. Then he allows it to air dry down.

  He looks sexier, if that is even possible. I would happily stay home with him and strip those clothes off his body.

  “Tatum, quit licking those lips and looking at me like I’m your next meal and let’s get going. I’m hungry.”

  He stands up, and I turn around for him to zip the back zipper of my ivory fitted, knee-length dress. The empire waistline is trimmed out in a black satin, two-inch-wide band that makes my enlarged breasts peek out even more. I curled my hair in loose waves, and my makeup is on point tonight.

  Angelo zips me up, and then I lay my hair back down as he picks up my heels and sets them in front of me. With a hand on his shoulder, I step into them. Then he plants a soft kiss on the inside of my knee, and I want nothing more than to feel his lips on other parts of my body.

  With a pat to my ass, he moves away, and I’m reminded he has spent three days telling me he wants to take me on a real date tonight.

  “Angelo?”

  “Tatum?”

  “Has Jordan called?” I ask, thinking about the missed call from Melanie on my phone and knowing Jordan should be calling any day now.

  “Three days ago.” He smirks. “And, baby, we have a reason to celebrate. My appeal is going through.”

  “You waited three days to tell me?” I gasp.

  “I’d have waited until dinner, but the way you look and the way you’re looking at me, I figured I wasn’t gonna get you out of here if I didn’t answer you. Now let’s go.”

  We step through the doorway, and I go to take the first step down to the gym, only to be scooped up bridal-style and carried down to the bottom by my muse, my reality, my man.

  “Angelo, I’m pregnant. I can navigate stairs.”

  “Those sexy as fuck shoes, Tatum, are not stair-friendly.”

  I sigh, loving the way this man wants to take care of me and our baby.

  The truck ride is short before we stop at Caldwell’s. The memories between us here are mixed.

  “No more bad, Tatum.” He throws the truck into gear. “You’ve taught me that. Tonight and from now on, we have nothing but good.”

  He gets out of the truck and comes around to open the door for me. With my hand in his, we then step inside the bar, where I look around and see balloons and a congratulations banner.

  I gasp when I hear a familiar squeal, and then my mom rushes at me with Melanie at her side. They both hug me tight, and it’s only then that Angelo releases me so I can wrap my arms around them.

  “Surprise, Tatum,” Melanie whispers. “Your man might be a beast, but he’s got heart.”

  I laugh and whisper, “Biggest one I have ever met.”

  I turn to look at him. Jagger and Tatiana are by his side.

  “You did this?”

  He gives me a slow, sexy wink as an answer.

  I look back at Melanie and my mom. “He invited you?”

  “Invited?” Melanie laughs. “He insisted.”

  Mom and I talk once a week. She knows I’m pregnant. Heck, everyone does. And knowing Angelo’s past doesn’t concern her half as much as it does Melanie, which makes it easier.

  “I know the young woman I raised,” Mom had said.

  Melanie has seen me at my absolute worse. Her concern is understandable, but unwarranted.

  I look around to find the room is filled with all the people in our lives here in Detroit.

  Jared stands on the bar with a smile on his face. “I’m thinkin’, big guy”—he looks at Angelo—“that you seem to have gotten your head outta your ass. And, well, I’m known for marryin’ people off. We have a banner, balloons, friends, family, booze, and cake; you up for a wedding?”

  I laugh and look at Angelo. His eyes connect with mind, no laughter in them, just the truth as to what he wants, and what I want without a doubt, too.

  I let out a slow, calming breath and swallow hard.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Angelo

  I want this. I want her. I want us.

  “Tatum, this wasn’t my plan.”

  I shove my ha
nd into my pocket and feel the velvet of the black box I brought, expecting she would say yes to my proposal tonight. It’s important to me that we’re married before the baby is born.

  I haven’t had a traditional family, a conventional life. I want more for my kid than I ever had. That means I want life with Tatum together as husband and wife. I’m not the romantic kind. Too much of my life was spent like a caged animal at the zoo. But Tatum deserves the world and a proposal for the books... well, of our own making.

  I’ll give it to her, I’ll give her anything, because she gave me back the ability to breathe.

  I drop to a knee in front of her, pulling the box out. “Tatum Longley, you came into my life unexpectedly. Your request was to use me, yet I came away from it not feeling used at all, but feeling blessed. So very blessed. You changed my life, and you make me the man I want to be. I love you and want you to be my wife.”

  Tears roll down her face as she nods.

  Her tears no longer cause me anxiety. I can now tell the difference between tears of joy and those of sorrow. These are joy.

  I pull out the ring, the one I found in one of the boxes. I know it was my grandmother’s because it was left to Maria. Then I take her hand and slowly push the ring that my sister one day dreamed of wearing onto Tatum’s finger.

  A few months ago, I would have never been able to do this. It would have felt like a betrayal. How could I go on with my life when Maria had no life to live. But Tatum changed all that. She changed everything, and I am in awe of the woman who loves me, believes in me, trusts me, and pushes me to breathe again.

  Once the ring is on her finger, I kiss her hand and stand.

  “You sure about this?” she asks.

  “One hundred percent.” I nod, then realize something. “We don’t have rings, like the bands and shit.” I feel the panic rise up in the thought of wearing a piece of metal on my hand for life not because I don’t want it with Tatum.

  She smiles and looks at her finger. “I do and we make it work, Angelo.” She sighs happily. “We always make it work.”

  “Not so damn fast, little lady,” Jared says sternly.

  “I meant—”

  “Sally, serve me a drink,” Jared cuts her off. “I got a wedding to perform.”

  It’s overwhelming and rushed, but that’s the way everything has been since Tatum came into my life.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  She smiles and nods, both gestures ease my anxiety.

  I look at her mother, feeling like I should have asked for her hand. She simply smiles and nods at me, too. Then I look toward the stage where Jagger and his brothers are moving things around and making room for where I assume we will say our I do’s. It seems like it takes all of thirty seconds.

  With my hand laced in hers, I give it a squeeze before we walk up to the stage where we stand in front of Jared with Melanie and her mom to her left behind her. Her people.

  I’m glad she has more than me. She deserves every happiness in the world for who she is and what she has done for me, for us. My reality is that she is all I need.

  Jared nods over my shoulder, and I look back to where Jagger and Buck stand behind me. I nod in appreciation to them and feel a little bit of emotions boiling up inside from having these two men at my back. Two men who can’t get along for nothing are standing behind me in a strange type of brotherhood, supporting me. I imagine Shaw would be proud.

  When I look back at Tatum, nothing fucking matters, not the fact we don’t have rings, not that we are getting married in a bar, by a man who is drunk. The only thing that matters from this moment on is her and I.

  “Friends, we’re gathered here to celebrate a milestone. Our beast, Kid, has found his beauty, Tatum... Thank fuck because the man is hard to handle without her.”

  I look at Tatum and smile. It feels so good to smile.

  “I know there is concern that there aren’t any rings, but there is a reason for that. Kid, the beast, told me minutes ago that he didn’t want rings because they bring back bad memories. Apparently, they remind him of handcuffs.”

  Tatum squeezes my hand, and I shake my head at the man’s joke because I didn’t tell him that, not that I would argue.

  “We’ll get rings.” I say more to Tatum than anyone else. “Or tattoos,” I add not having an issue inking my finger for her.

  “And handcuffs?” Jagger asks from behind me.

  “If she wants those, she’ll have them,” I answer.

  Tatum’s jaw drops, which makes me laugh.

  “Just write it down, Tatum. Your wish is my command.”

  She smiles now, that big bright beautiful smile, framed in pink lips, her eyes twinkling.

  “You are so damn beautiful.” I lean in to take her lips, but Jared puts his hand between us.

  “This is my show,” he says.

  I start to say something when Tatum laughs. “Then do your thing.”

  “How many novelists does it take to write a romance novel?” Jared asks.

  Tatum shakes her head and smiles. “How many?”

  “Two. One to screw it almost all the way in, and one to give it a surprise twist at the end.” Jared winks.

  Melanie laughs. “Romance readers don’t like surprise twists at the end.”

  “But they like nipple clamps and paddles.” Jared smirks.

  “Oh, my gosh.” Melanie covers her face and laughs.

  “What’s the difference between a publisher and Isis?” Jared asks Melanie.

  “I have no idea.” She laughs.

  “You can negotiate with Isis.”

  Tatum laughs and looks back at Melanie. “So true.”

  “Lucky for you, it worked out very well, didn’t it? Bestseller and a muse turned husband,” Melanie says matter-of-factly.

  “If you’d all quiet down and let me do my job, she may end up with a husband. At this rate, it’s not looking good,” Jared says, deadpan.

  “Go ahead, Jared,” I tell him.

  “You sure you wanna marry this guy?” Jared asks Tatum.

  “Never been more sure of anything,” she says, smiling at me, just me.

  “You know you’re one lucky motherfucker, don’t you?” he asks.

  “I know.”

  “Good. You wanna marry her?”

  “More than I want my next breath,” I say, lifting her chin with my thumb and leaning in to kiss her whether he says to or not.

  “Well, congrats. You may now kiss... Well, there you go; they’re already kissing,” Jared grumbles. “Mr. and Mrs.... What the fuck is his last name?”

  Tatum laughs into my mouth, and nothing else matters. She’s mine, I’m hers, and I will fight heaven and hell to make sure that doesn’t end for a million lifetimes.

  She pulls back, tears flowing down her face as she smiles.

  “This is real, right?” I ask, smiling just as broadly back at her.

  Epilogue

  Tatum

  Eight months later...

  “With us today is USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and New York Times bestselling author, Tatum Longley.” The reporter smiles at the camera, and then back to me. “Thank you for coming in today to talk about your next release.”

  “Thank you for having me.”

  “This isn’t your first time topping the charts in the publishing world, is it?”

  “No, I’ve been very blessed to have a great team of publishers and an editor who I owe it all to. I just write the books.”

  “You started in non-fiction and were very successful. What made you switch to fiction?”

  “My editor,” I say on a laugh.

  “What, she just said you need to write erotic romance?” he asks, grinning.

  “That’s a pretty accurate description.”

  “And you just did as she asked?”

  “I may have fought it a bit, but I trust her with my career.”

  “But going from writing hard hitting books on foster care to mommy porn? That’s two totally differe
nt worlds.”

  I nod. “You’d think, but really it’s not.”

  He sits back and spreads his arms wide on the couch behind him. “How so?”

  “Writers should write what they are passionate about.”

  “Your character, Jonathon, in Breathe Again, was a gym owner,” he says, and I nod. “Rumor has it you met your husband, who recently moved here to New York City, at a gym in Detroit.”

  I smile and look down. Angelo is in the green room with our baby, watching this. I wanted him to come out, but he said no way in hell.

  “I did.” I nod.

  “And was he your real-life inspiration for Breathe Again?”

  Knowing I’m going to be in so much trouble for this, I laugh. “He was much more than that. Much of Jonathon’s POV was actually written by my husband.”

  “Wow, that’s interesting. Why don’t we bring him out here?”

  “He prefers to stay out of the spotlight, and that’s fine with me.”

  “This next book, releasing tomorrow, did he help write it, as well?”

  I nod. “Yes, Use Me is as much his work as it is mine.”

  “But his name isn’t on the cover. Does that bother him?”

  “My name isn’t on it, either.” I smile, using the same excuse Angelo used on me.

  “So, will your future work be co-written with your husband?”

  “My future, every part of it, is with my husband.”

  “Your Jonathon?” the interviewer asks.

  “My everything.”

  “So you got your happily ever after?” He smiles.

  “I really do have my happily ever after. A simple proposition and a forced changed in my life has given me a limitless future full of love, laughter, friends, and family. Most importantly, I have my forever muse, writing partner, and life partner.” I laugh. “My happily ever after.”

  Angelo

  I look away from the screen where my wife has just exposed that I am very much a part of her books, that I write with her. As I told her, for me, it’s not a job. It’s a way to get to know her wants and needs better. It’s a way to express how much I want her, the first woman who wasn’t family who I love, but with her it’s deeper, I love her with every part of me. Tatum, my first and last sexual partner. Tatum, the woman who turned, not only my world, but my life inside out, or should I say she turned it right side in.