Living at 40 (Lakeside Cottage Book 1)

by L. B. Dunbar

  I snort. Don’t be weird that my best friend is dying. Don’t be weird that I fucked his sister. Don’t be weird that I’ve been trying to get her pregnant for the past ten days.

  “It’s already weird.”

  “The fact you’re sleeping with my sister?” Ben admits.

  “Among many things,” I mutter, taking another sip of my coffee.

  “How’s that going, by the way?”

  I choke before peering over at him. “You want to know how sleeping with your sister is going?”

  “Yeah. I mean, is she pregnant?”

  I huff. “I have no idea.”

  “But you’ve been going at it like rabbits on crack.”

  “Ben,” I mumble. Speaking of awkward, this is awkward.

  “Well?”

  “I cannot discuss this with you,” I groan.

  “Why not? Because she’s my sister?”

  “Yes.” I bitterly chuckle.

  “I’d like you to discuss it with me because she’s my sister. Because I love her, and I want her taken care of. I might not agree with this practice . . . hook up with a few guys to get pregnant . . . but I want her to have what she wants. I want her to have a child if that’s what she thinks will make her whole, fulfill her life, and bring her happiness. I’d prefer it wasn’t from some random man but one of my best friends. At least, I’d know who the father is and know he was a good man.”

  Just layer that guilt like butter on toast.

  “Won’t I be shit if I leave her to do it alone?” I’ve been wrestling with this thought more and more lately.

  Ben glances over at me again. “Would you really let her do it alone?”

  My head thuds back on the seat. “I don’t even know if this worked. And if it did, I guess I’d cross that hurdle when it happens. It’s not like we live next door to one another, though.”

  “Life is full of sacrifice,” Ben says, but his voice teases me.

  “You want me to move here and take care of her? That’s not what she wants. She wants a kid, not a husband. She doesn’t want me.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Ben asks, and I’m curious if Ben knows something I don’t. I try not to be bitter that the Kulis siblings are good at keeping things from me when it concerns the other.

  “I . . . I’m following her wishes.” I have my own wishful thinking, though. I want to be with her. I want to sleep with her, and I want to give her what she desires most—a child. She hasn’t mentioned a husband, not once, and she hasn’t asked me for more.

  “What if my wish was for you to marry her if she’s having your baby?”

  “Ben.” I groan again. “Man, that’s a lot of pressure.”

  “I see something between you two.” He sounds like a woman, and I worry Anna’s rubbed off on him in the near twenty years of their marriage.

  “Don’t do this to me,” I whine.

  “What?” Ben innocently asks, tilting his head to glance at me once more.

  “Don’t make it a dying wish for me to marry your sister.” The silence that falls between us is like the windshield suddenly shattering. We’re surrounded in the awkward plea I made to him, and Ben’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, and I’m opening my mouth to apologize as my shit mood is not what he needs, but he speaks.

  “My dying wish is that my sister finds love as I’ve had with Anna. I want her to have a family to mother and smother and take care of instead of all those losers she’s dated. It doesn’t have to be you, Logan. If you don’t want those things for yourself, it doesn’t have to be you. But I want you to be happy as well. And I’m willing to bet my sister could be it for you, too.”

  “I am happy,” I quickly retort, ignoring the hope in my heart at what he’s said about his sister. I am happy enough . . . until I consider the dead-end dates, the chaotic schedule of sharing Lorna, and the fact my ex-wife has a boyfriend.

  “Are you?” Ben asks with sharpness in his tone.

  “Fuck off,” I whisper, with a weak smile. I hate how well Ben knows me.

  “Just looking out for you, friend,” he says. “I love you, man.”

  “Ben,” I whisper-groan again as my nose prickles and my eyes sting.

  “Gotta say these things while I can,” he admits, forcing a smile on his straight face. The false bravado is like a stab to the heart.

  “I promise I won’t let anything happen to her.” Caving just a little on his request, I find it not so difficult to admit. I’d never let anything happen to Autumn, and I’ll keep in touch, wanting to know how things are proceeding. The idea makes me sick, though. Her with another man. Her eventually pregnant all alone. Her being a mother by herself.

  “And I love you, too.” The words are thick in my throat. I agree that the phrase should be said more often, and not just from the fear of never saying it again.

  Tipping back my head, the weight of these two weeks crashes down on me, and I’m almost ready to go home. Almost.

  + + +

  When we arrive at our destination, it’s thirty minutes north of Lakeside. I don’t recognize the area, although there’s a lake before us.

  “What’s this?” I ask as I exit the SUV, and Mason stands next to his vehicle, waiting for Ben and me.

  “It’s Lake Liberty.”

  “Never heard of it,” I admit, glancing over at Ben, who looks equally confused. Mason tips his head, and we follow him. It’s a quick walk down a gravel drive to find a clearing with a shit home on the property.

  “What do you think?” Mason asks.

  “What do we think of what?” Zack questions and then yells at his boys. “Don’t go in the water!” The two race to the edge with such speed there’s little doubt they’re about to project themselves into the clear liquid. Surprisingly, they stop short of the edge.

  “I want to buy this property,” Mason says.

  “O-kay.” Zack drags out the word.

  Mason draws his focus from the lake to face us with a beaming smile. “May I present the first investment of The Four Points?”

  “What?” I choke.

  “This is it. It’s time we join our collective knowledge and invest together.”

  I blink at Mason, uncertain I’ve heard him correctly. “We don’t even live near here.” None of us do, not even Ben when he moves to Lakeside in a few weeks.

  “We don’t need to be close. We can just take turns overseeing the portion of the process that belongs to us.” Mason is not deterred as he turns back to the decrepit house.

  “I can build it if you’ll design it.” Mason waves a hand at the currently collapsing structure. “Zack can handle the legal stuff, and Ben can make the outside beautiful.”

  “I can’t work the land,” Ben mutters sadly.

  “I don’t know the first thing about designing houses. I design buildings and high-rises,” I retort but my heart races. What is this? What’s happening here?

  “You’ve mentioned in the past how you’re overworked. Plus, how much commercial building is really happening where you live? Who needs another high-rise, stacking people on top of one another? This would be a home. A permanent residence or maybe a second house for someone. It can be affordable living with sustainable products. You could be creative.”

  “Mason, I can’t design a home.” However, the idea is tempting. It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I’m out of practice. Structural engineering is different for a house, but renewable energy sources could be the same. I’m creative with my current projects, but I understand what he means. There’s a different level of artistic design here.

  “What’s the investment?” Zack asks, surprising me that he’s even minutely interested in this suggestion.

  “I was thinking a quarter apiece. All the properties I’ve looked at are in foreclosure. It’s not the house, but the land we seek.” He sounds like a pioneer, and I don’t miss the pride in his voice.

  “Properties? As in, more than one?” Zack doesn’t mi
ss the particulars.

  “I have five locations scoped out at the moment.”

  “Five?” Ben chokes.

  “I wanted a variety of choices. We can even dispense with one and make it so we each invest in only one at first but share the responsibility with each project. Design. Build. Beautify and business.” Mason points at each of us and our perspective role in such a venture.

  “Mason,” I groan. “I don’t have that kind of cash.” I’m not a rich boy like the rest of these guys. I didn’t grow up with daddy’s money like Mason. The comparison isn’t fair to Zack as his father eventually lost their wealth, but he’s still spoiled in his own right. Ben has Anna’s prestige backing his name, but I don’t. “I can’t. I’m out.”

  “We can’t be The Four Points without all four of us. Come on, man. This was our dream,” Mason pleads, swiping a hand through his artful curls. His freaking model looks make him appear too polished to actually do any demolition on a place or understand the meaning of hard work.

  “We were drunk,” Zack reminds us.

  “We were young,” I clarify.

  “We did have a dream,” Ben says, slowly smiling.

  “We have all the parts. You have your dad’s company which you want to restore,” Mason says, directing his attention to Ben. “No heavy lifting for you, just consult. And I have the construction crew,” Mason adds for himself.

  “Logan, you can share designs via the internet, and Zack could do the same with contracts and such. It wouldn’t be the same as working together, but we’d still be in it collectively.”

  “And what about when we disagree?” I ask, knowing that as much as I care for Mason, we can butt heads like the best of bulls.

  “It’s bound to happen, but we’ll have everything legal and legit. That’s Zack’s side of things. We’re a team, but it’s business.”

  I shake my head. It’s too much. I just can’t envision it. And between Autumn and now Ben’s announcement, I can’t wrap my thoughts around another venture. “I’m still out. I can’t swing the cash, let alone find the time.” I work overtime only because I throw myself into it. It fills the void when I don’t have Lorna.

  Mason sighs. “Just think about it. We don’t have to do anything immediately.”

  “What about these properties? How long will they sit on the market?” Zack asks.

  “A few have been on the market a while, and they’re eager to dump them, but we don’t have to rush. Others will pop up.”

  “And if they don’t?” I ask. The other side of this idea is what if we fail? What if we purchase but can’t flip the house? What if we invest but don’t find other prospects?

  “This is waterfront property,” Mason snorts. “There’s miles of it in this state.”

  “Are you thinking we’d work all over Michigan?” Ben asks, obviously overwhelmed at the thought.

  “I’m thinking we’d only work the properties along the immediate coast. We can turn these over. I know we can.” Mason’s faith in the process is a bit inspiring, and I’ve never seen him so excited by the prospect of doing something like this.

  Ben rests his hands on his hips, glancing at the lopsided house. “I’d have to speak to Anna. We have a lot going on.”

  Mason’s shoulders fall. “I understand. I thought maybe she’d like to be in on it, too. Give her something to look forward to. The boys as well. In a few years, who knows, Calvin might want to be a part of the company.”

  Ben slowly nods, and I want to punch Mason again. He’s being considerate while inconsiderate at the same time.

  “I could do it,” Zack says. “I don’t need Jeanine’s permission,” he teases of Ben.

  “Logan?” Mason questions.

  “I’d have to think about it.” It’s not a firm no, but I already know there’s a strong possibility I won’t say yes. Still, I glance over at the house and slowly envision something more modern with energy-efficient windows and solar panels to help aid electricity. This venture could be that something different I’ve been wanting for a while, but I can’t leave Lorna behind. Autumn crosses my mind, but I’m not certain what to think regarding her.

  “I guess that’s all I can ask,” Mason states, breaking into my thoughts and slipping his hands into his pockets. His shoulders hunch, and his eyes lower for the ground. “I just want you guys to consider it.”

  What am I missing? I don’t know why Mason would want to take on such projects as he already runs a very successful construction company with his father. Located a few hours up the coast, they build multi-million-dollar homes and make bank in the process. However, I’m on overload and trying to figure out Mason’s motive is beyond my scope of brainpower today.

  “Who needs a drink?” Mason finally asks.

  “I do,” Oliver says, reminding us that two little boys have been running around someone else’s property.

  “Daddy, I’m thirsty,” Trevor adds, and Zack reaches down for his son, hoisting him up to his hip.

  “Okay, little man. Let’s find us something to drink.”

  We step forward, returning up the gravel drive, but I take a final glance back at the house, finding Mason doing the same. His head slowly shakes side to side, disappointment on his face, and I realize there was a lot at stake showing us this property. A lot more than I understand. I wish I could give in. I wish I could make a gut decision, but I just can’t.

  21

  [Autumn]

  The final day was strange. There was no other way to describe it as I lay in bed trying, and failing, at reading a book. The men had disappeared in the morning, and all Anna knew was their destination was a mystery. I had to work, so I didn’t have an afternoon in the sunshine like the rest of them. Dinner was somber. Ben didn’t want it that way, but his friends tiptoed around the elephant in the room. I sensed a giraffe, a panda, and a purple spotted dragon might be in there as well, as each man seemed to have something weighing heavily on his mind. After helping Anna with the dishes, I excused myself, not in the mood to witness a final sunset with the rest of them. They are the friends—Ben, Zack, Mason, and Logan—and even Anna. I am the outsider. Just Ben’s little sister.

  As my bedroom door opens on a rush and then shuts on a soft click, I sit upright, startled by the sudden intrusion.

  Across the room, Logan and I meet eyes as his back presses against the door, and my breath hitches. We haven’t spoken directly since sometime yesterday. On my bedroom floor last night, he didn’t speak as we did what we did. He didn’t say anything to me at dinner other than “pass the potatoes, please.” But, there’s apology, panic, and something else written in his current expression, and as he crosses the room in three large steps, I climb up to my knees, meeting him at the end of my bed, and we embrace one another. My arms wrap around his neck, drawing his face into the crook of mine while he circles me with his arms like a vise grip, holding me plastered to him. Unable to release one another, we tumble back to the bed, ignoring jabs to the back and a soft choking sound. We continue to hold tight.

  Logan’s weight blankets me, and I refuse to let him move. With his nose at the side of my neck, he’s breathing heavily, inhaling my summery scent. Without words, he moves down my body, nestling himself between my legs which spread to accommodate his broad shoulders. He stops short under my breasts, lowering his forehead for my stomach and pausing. Turning his cheek to my belly, he closes his eyes, and I reach for his dark hair, combing through the soft locks. His hand comes to my tummy, and he spreads his fingers as he flattens his palm. Shifting only enough to press his lips to my rumbling stomach, he kisses me once near my belly button and then returns his cheek to my abs. We stay like this for a long time. Long enough that Logan’s weight grows heavier, and he dozes over me—his ear to my belly, his hand on my side.

  At first, I can’t sleep, so I just continue to stroke over his hair, wondering why this sweet man came into my life now and accepting the sad fact that he’s leaving. I’m not opposed to long-distance relationships, nor i
s separation by miles an issue with cell phones, internet, and video chats, but it’s not the life I want to lead, and it wasn’t the deal between us. The goal was to get pregnant and nothing more. He already has a child. He has a home and a job hours away from here. This was about me and included me not involving him. My heart feels so differently.

  I want him to stay with me. I want to be good to him. Last night was an anomaly. He was hurting, confused, frustrated even with the idea that Ben is dying. It’s a lot to take in, especially when we’ve spent these two weeks trying to create a life—a baby—a little person for me to love.

  Slowly, I drift off to sleep, but it’s more a heavy doze, the kind that leaves you conscious of your surroundings but unable to move in reaction to anything you hear. However, when Logan shifts over me, pushing up my cotton cami and pressing kisses to my skin, I’m alert while drowsy. His mouth continues to move over my belly, sucking at the loose flesh before lowering and sliding my boxer shorts over my hips.

  “What are you doing?” I softly question in a raspy voice.

  “One more time for good luck,” he mutters into my stomach as he shoves my shorts to my knees. We’ll do it extra times just for good measure and once more for good luck. I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat. One more chance to root if the seed isn’t already planted. My dad would love the gardening metaphor but maybe not the process of this plan. I’m sleeping with a man in hopes he’ll get me pregnant, but he won’t stick around to raise the baby. And I can’t fault him. This is what I asked.

  As I shake the bitter thoughts away, my fingers return to combing through his hair. He quickly removes my shorts and underwear before pressing his nose through the coarse hair at the apex of my legs. His tongue comes forward, cautious as he caresses me with tender strokes. He swirls around me, lapping everywhere but where I need as if memorizing me with the trace of his tongue. Finally, he narrows in on the bud, sucking hard before paying it homage. The torture is too much, and I shatter in a gentle release like waves slowly retreating to the lake. It’s not a crash or a rush, but a stretch of sensation, crackling and bubbling like the water leaves the sand as it returns to the larger body of liquid. I’m liquid when he finishes, feeling weightless and undone. We’ve been together so often, in so many ways in the past two weeks, and each time I think it can’t be different, it is.