by Alexis Angel
“I’m okay,” I insist firmly and take a bite of my salmon.
“One of my friends mentioned to me that you’re a frequent flyer at The Avalon lately.” Harry smirks.
I gulp, but don’t reveal my poker face. “Who’s your friend?”
“Nobody.” Harry shrugs.
I know it’s a lost cause to try to smoke that information out of him.
“Well, I’m glad you care enough about me to have a spy check in on my daily activities,” I say with smug satisfaction.
“Well, what’s it about?” Harry presses, never being one for restricting abilities or knowing when to fucking quit. I swear, he doesn’t have that gene in his body where he cares about discretion or getting embarrassed over anything.
I fucking wish I could live my own life with that mentality, but I’m not about to admit that to him or anyone else, let alone with my father in the room.
“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business,” I state firmly.
“Language, Molly,” my father reprimands me as if I’m a child. He hasn’t spoken up until this moment.
“Oh, come off your moral high horse, Daddy,” I retort, knowing he’s no saint.
“I’m just trying to make friendly conversation,” Harry says defensively as if his pressing questions are no big deal, which of course, to him, they aren’t.
“It’s not even worth mentioning.” I shrug, trying to downplay my time at the Avalon as nothing. “So, how are things with you?” I ask, desperate to change the damn subject from me already.
I’m the unofficial black sheep of this family, and I take any opportunity I can to cast the limelight on someone else―if it suits me.
“Things are great with me,” Harry boasts proudly.
“Good for you.” I nod and take a bite of my salad.
“I should be into work tomorrow and the rest of the week,” Harry notes as if I should fucking get on my knees and praise him for taking the initiative to hold interest in his job.
“I’m glad to see you making an effort.” I give him a forced smile.
I notice a change in myself since the last time I came here to eat with my father. Well, first of all, Harry wasn’t here, but that’s not really important.
“I really like the stage I’m at in my life,” I blurt out even though nobody cares enough to ask.
Harry and my father both exchange a look and stare at me, wondering where all this self-proclaiming confidence is stemming from all of a sudden. I mean, I can’t really blame them. I have puzzling feelings about it all, too.
“Is that so?” Harry grins at me as if he’s unconvinced and is going to do his best to prove that and make me crack.
“Yep.” I nod adamantly. “I’m done with pleasing other people and that includes you and Daddy,” I state.
“You try to please me?” Harry grins in satisfaction.
“More Daddy than you.” I shrug because I don’t want to make him feel special.
My parents already do enough of that for me.
“I’m turning over a new leaf,” I proclaim.
My father chuckles and takes a sip of his brandy.
“I’m sorry, is something amusing?” I turn to look at my father.
“No.” He shakes his head and grins as he stares at his plate.
“I’m tired of nobody taking me seriously, so I’m not going to do anything at all. Then you’ll see how much you need me. I’ll prove it by not existing where you need me to be.”
My father raises an eyebrow and doesn’t respond.
“Are you crazy?” Harry asks out of nowhere.
“No, not really.” I stare at him.
“You sound like the guy in that Christmas movie,” Harry attests.
“It’s a Wonderful Life?” I ask.
“Yeah that’s the one,” Harry admits with a nod.
“This isn’t the movies, this is real life,” I state.
“No shit,” he says and takes a bite of his salad.
“I’ve come to a decision you will probably be proud about, though,” I add.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Harry leans on his elbows eagerly.
We’re talking to each other back and forth, engaging in conversation as if my father isn’t even in the fucking room.
“Well,” I wipe my mouth with my napkin and place it on the table beside my plate, “I’m taking an indefinite leave of absence from the company,” I say.
“Really?” Harry laughs. “When will that start?”
“Tomorrow.” I nod curtly. “I won’t be showing up to work tomorrow,” I confirm, more to myself than to them.
“That’s great,” Harry says, and leans back in his chair.
He actually starts fucking slow clapping in approval.
“I gotta say, little sis, I applaud you.” He continues to clap.
“Seriously?” I look at him as if he’s lost his fucking marbles.
“Yes,” he says with a grin. “You’re finally seeing the light. Reality is hitting you. Now you realize that shit is not as important as you think it is.”
“I don’t know if you’re making fun of me, but I’m feeling uncomfortable now,” I say and stand up.
“Are you going somewhere?” Harry stops laughing and eyes me.
“Yeah, away from you assholes,” I say.
“Molly, get back here right now.” My father’s voice booms and bellows through the otherwise silent room.
“I’m not coming back, Daddy.” I don’t even look twice before walking out the door.
I call my driver who swiftly picks me up to bring me back to my apartment.
On the entire ride home, I replay the conversation with Harry in my mind. I don’t regret the things I said, nor do I want to take back my decision to have a break from the work scene for a while.
I need a fucking time out, a break to find myself, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I lock my apartment door behind me a few minutes after riding the elevator up. I’m sleepy, and all I want to do is take a nice warm bath and reflect on my past mistakes and how to fix them for a better future. Now that I’m not going to be working, I have all the time in the world.
Unfortunately, all I’m able to think about as I sink into the warm bathwater is fucking Owen. Ugh.
24
Molly
I don’t want to get out of my white porcelain bathtub with the claw feet, even though my skin is shriveling at this point and the water is now cold against my naked body.
I don’t even care anymore; this is the freest feeling surging through my veins I’ve ever felt, and I not only want to embrace it, but relish in it and savor each moment that I remain uncommitted to anything or anyone. I actually did put Owen out of my mind once I got in the bath.
You know that expression ‘no fucks to give?’ Well, that’s me. Look it up in a dictionary and you’ll see my face and submerged body in this tub right now.
I mean damn, even the taste in the air is different. Is that really possible? I think so, because I’m living it right now.
Don’t call me crazy or spastic. It’s called perspective, and I’m finally seeing it clearly for once in my fucking life.
I finally climb out of the tub and pat my skin dry. My chest feels lighter, and the weight of the world is fading fast from my memory.
No longer do I feel trapped or as if I’m collapsing on the brink of losing control. I’m not dramatic, I’m just pissed.
Well, maybe I’m not even angry anymore. The new me doesn’t care enough. No fucks to give, remember?
I lather lotion on my still-damp skin, moistening it until I’m radiantly glowing as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I may appear the same on the outside, but on the inside, big changes are festering and taking place in my mind and spirit.
I drape a white terry-cloth robe around my body and pull it closed tight around me, wrapping it nice and snug.
I walk to my living room to fetch the glass of water that I
suddenly remember I left sitting on the coffee table. It’s refreshing as I gulp it down, good to every last cool and savory drop.
I jump nearly a foot in the air as the doorbell rings inside of my apartment, scaring the living fucking daylights out of me.
Who the fuck is at my doorstep at this hour?
I clutch my robe tighter and head apprehensively to the front door.
I stare through the peep hole first, wanting to gauge who’s on the other side.
It’s too dark down the hallway for some reason. Should I open the door to reveal the visitor? The old me would probably say no, but the new me is too full of curiosity not to wonder.
I inhale sharply and whisk the door open in one fell swoop.
My mouth hangs open in gawking shock when I see who’s on the other side.
“Hi, Molly, I hope it’s not too late to see you.”
“Owen?” I stand there, just staring at him and trying to comprehend what he’s doing here.
I notice his hand behind his back as he slowly pulls it forward to reveal an enormous amount of long-stemmed white roses in a perfect bouquet.
“These are for you,” he states softly, and pushes them towards me.
I take them , sniffing their flowery aroma. I can’t help it, their color symbolizes purity, and I feel a tug in my heart even though I should probably resist. No, I know I should resist.
“Thanks,” I say. “What is this for?” I have to grip the flowers with two hands because they’re so heavy.
Undoubtedly, I’m confused as ever.
“These roses are the beginning of the apology I want to give you,” Owen recites.
He’s wearing all black—black jeans, a black sweater and a black coat.
He clears his throat to begin what I assume will be a speech about his wrongdoings.
“Molly, I present these roses to you as a way to sincerely apologize,” he says.
So I’m right, I can sense these things. The guy in the dog house wants to come back inside.
“Molly, there are one hundred white roses here, and each one represents how truly sorry I am for hurting you.”
I don’t know why, but all I can do is stare blankly at him. I don’t have a reaction…not yet anyway.
“Can I come inside?” He gestures towards my living room.
I still can’t bring myself to speak, so I continue to stare a hole in the wall across from him.
“Please, Molly…”.
I finally regain some control over my muscular activity. I simply nod, but I still don’t say anything to him.
He walks past me and takes the roses, placing them on my kitchen table.
“These will look good here,” he offers.
I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else.
“Molly,” he holds his hands up, “I am so, so sorry. Yes, it’s true that my plan began with trying to win you over so you would lift my suspension from the Expose. I really wanted to fuck Crystal in the beginning.”
I flinch at his words.
He pauses here, waiting to see if I will counter, argue or fly into his arms. I do none of these things; I simply look at the ground and remain silent, still.
Owen has no choice but to continue on with his apology.
“What was not part of the plan,” he says, “is the way I now feel about you. I can’t deny it any longer, Molly. I think I’m in love with you.”
Whoa, hold the train. No way. Owen fucking Wolfe just said the L word?
His words are powerful, and I can hear the vulnerability in his voice, but I’m not quite ready to open up to him yet. I’m not sure what to think, if I can trust him. I need a little more.
Owen approaches me and takes my hands in his, cradling them gently. I don’t protest or try to pull away.
“Molly,” he whispers softly, his voice like a prayer, “I love you. You’re the only thing I can think about. I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t fucking eat. Without you, I’m fucking nothing.”
I ponder his confession and digest it, allowing it to sink into every fiber of my being.
“Do you think you can grant me a second chance to fix everything I’ve fucked up?” Owen asks softly.
I breathe in the intoxicating and sexy scent of his masculine cologne. He’s only standing close to me, but I can feel his amazing strength and safety, as if I’m already wrapped in his arms.
I finally know how to answer him. I decide to go with the truth.
“I’m scared.” My voice cracks and my eyes pool with tears.
“What are you scared of?” He leans in and rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“I’m not sure I’m a risk-taker after all,” I admit, and look at the floor.
“You’re a fucking strong and incredible woman,” he proclaims.
I finally muster the courage to make eye contact with him. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve been heartbroken,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry that I’m the reason for the latest one,” he says, his eyes full of genuine regret.
I shake my head as the realization hits me. “I used work as a Band-Aid, a way to distract myself from being lonely and hurt. Now what do I have to show for it?” I shrug. “Not a damn thing.”
“You have me.” Owen gently hugs me close to his body. I want so badly to believe him, but the pain of all the hurt in my past makes me feel like I can’t let him in.
Surrendering to Owen would mean finally being free of the shackles that bind me, but I need for him to prove his love first.
25
Owen
Having Molly in my arms feels fucking perfect. It’s like everything I never knew I wanted. But she still hasn’t forgiven me.
Not that I can blame her. I fucked up royally, and she’d be perfectly within her rights to kick me to the curb right now.
But I fucking hope like hell that she won’t.
“Molly,” I say, cupping her cheek in my palm and tilting her face up to mine. “Can you forgive me?”
She stares at me for a long time, and I can see the fear in her eyes. Fear that I helped up there.
“I know it’s asking a lot,” I continue. “But please. If you just give me a chance, I’ll spend every fucking day for the rest of my life proving to you that I really do love you. None of what happened between us was a lie. Of that you can be certain.”
The rest of my life. Those words hit me hard. But I know they’re true. There’s not another woman that could do to me what Molly does. She’s it. I know it now. I feel it with everything that’s in me.
“Owen, it felt so real. All of it. I just can’t believe that you tried to deceive me like that. Everything was built on false pretenses.”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “Maybe that’s the reason that brought us together, but nothing—nothing, do you hear me?—about a single second we’ve been together has been false. Every bit of it’s real. Including how much I love you.”
This time she gives me a small smile. “I love you, too.”
All the air rushes out of my lungs in a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Fuck. She loves me. It’s almost impossible to believe.
“So, you’re saying there’s a chance?” I give her teasing smirk.
“I’m scared,” she says again. “But I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to take a chance. I want to see what’s out there for me.” She pauses. “Or what’s right here.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll spend every day showing her that everything she could ever want is right here. Us. Together.
I stare into her eyes for several heartbeats, then I slowly lower my mouth to hers. She doesn’t resist. In fact, it feels like…surrender.
Within moments, what starts as a slow kiss grows deeper, needier. It’s like we’re both starved for each other. My hand comes up to graze along her side and up over the firm mound of her breast, then I’m sliding the robe off her shoulders.
I kiss along her neck and down her collarbone,
licking and nipping and reveling in the fact that she’s in my arms.
I’m never going to let her go.
She shrugs out of the robe, and then she’s standing pressed against me, her soft delicately scented skin driving me mad.
In one quick move, I hoist her up against me and she wraps her legs around my waist.
I’m a man on a mission now as I stalk toward her bedroom. We kiss the entire time, not breaking apart. I feel like I can’t get close enough to her.
I spread her out in front of me on her bed, and she lets her knees fall to the side, exposing her beautiful glistening pussy for me to devour with my eyes.
Then I’m devouring it with my mouth. I do feel like a man starved. I eat her out with a fiery passion like I’ve never felt before, wanting to make her feel better than she ever has.
“Oh, fuck, Owen. Oh my God,” she pants as she writhes and convulses under my attention.
I slide two fingers inside her hot, tight pussy, and her slick walls clamp down on me. I tease her G-spot while I suck her swollen clit into my mouth, and then she’s coming apart underneath me.
Cum squirts out, drenching my face and my hand, and holy fuck is that sexy as hell. My cock is throbbing painfully, desperate to be inside her once again. Right where I fucking belong.
“Fuck me, Owen, please.” She’s begging, and I fucking love it.
“I think I can get down with that,” I tease.
Then I’m climbing up and hovering over her, staring into her eyes as my cock teases her cum-coated slit.
I wait, drawing the moment out as I brace myself above her. “I love you, Molly,” I say, more earnestly than I’ve ever said anything in my life. And I fucking mean it.
As I slide into her soft, silky wetness, I keep my gaze locked with hers. This is different, more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t want to miss a fucking second of the expressions that flit across her gorgeous face while I make love to her.
Yeah, that’s fucking right. I mean, I’m going to fuck her, make no mistake about that. But this is so much more than just a fuck.
