by Whitley Cox
“Who is it?” I called out, the moment whispering for caution. Hardly anyone ever knocked on my door; that was one of the beauties of a basement suite.
“Daisy, Sam’s sister. Can I come in?”
I unbolted the deadbolt and opened the door. A hand pushed on the door, and I came face-to-face with a woman who was not Daisy.
“Excuse me?” I pushed back, attempting to keep her outside, but she wedged her black leather boot into the jamb and was now using both hands.
“Mama?” Carly asked.
I glared at the woman and then looked down at Carly. “Go back inside, sweetie. Go play dinosaurs.”
Her brown eyes were full of curiosity, but as the seconds ticked by, the fear I felt slowly started to seep into her. We were like Elliott and E.T. She felt what I felt and vice versa. I gritted my teeth and barked, “Go.”
Her eyes welled up with tears, but she spun on her heel and ran into the living room, throwing herself onto the couch, her face in her hands. I saw her little body tremble with each sob.
“Mom of the year, right there,” the woman said with a cackle, her heavily made-up eyes glimmering with sick amusement.
“Who the hell are you?” I said with a snarl.
“Are you sleeping with my husband?”
Meegan.
“Who the fuck is your husband?” Sam had said they never married, so even though I knew who this bitch was referring to, I wasn’t going to bite and make it easy.
“Sam Wright,” she said, tilting her angular chin into the air.
“I wasn’t aware Sam was married,” I said blandly, trying to appear bored, even though inside I was in utter turmoil and bubbling hot. I wanted this woman out of my house, out of my sight.
“We’re working on things.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to tell you to stay the hell away from my husband, if you know what’s good for you. Do you really want to be responsible for breaking up a family?”
I kicked her boot out from the jamb and pushed hard on the door until it was open no more than a couple of inches. “Seems like you’re the one who broke up her own family.” Then I slammed the door, locked it and fell against the hard, cold wood.
“Stay the fuck away from him,” she hollered from outside.
I didn’t say anything. My face was on fire, and my chest rose and fell in labored breaths. I noted Carly’s muffled cries and quivers as she remained face-down on the couch. I went to her, falling to my knees and pulling her into my arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Mummy didn’t mean it.” She buried her face in my neck; warm wet tears slid down my clavicle and into the top of my shirt. She clung to me like a baby monkey. When we’d both stopped shaking and I no longer felt like I needed to punch a hole in the wall, I pulled her away from me, setting her on my lap. Her perfect cheeks were bright pink and her soft brown eyes red-rimmed and damp. I wiped the tears away.
“Mummy’s sorry, angel. I know you were just trying to help.”
Her chest rattled a couple of times as she took a few deep breaths, but then she looked up at me and smiled. “Pancakes?”
With a groan fit for an octogenarian, I pried myself off the floor and hoisted her up into my arms. “Pancakes!” Settling Carly on my hip, I headed into the kitchen. “Blueberry pancakes? I think I have some berries in the freezer.”
Her eyes went wide, and she nodded. “Boo berries.” I set her down on the kitchen floor and opened up the freezer above the fridge, and that’s when it hit me. How the hell did Meegan know where I lived? Ice, far colder than anything in the open freezer, slid down my spine. Had she followed Sam last night? She must have. Abandoning the freezer, I grabbed my phone off the counter.
“Hello.”
Shit, his tone was off. There was no mirth, no playfulness. It was only one word, yet it said so much.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?”
Despite the ice pick raking its merry way down my back, I was slightly thrown for a loop with how businesslike he was behaving. As if we hadn’t just spent hours doing despicably wonderful things to each other in my bedroom while also professing our love for each other. Hesitation and caution whispered loudly in the back of my head.
“Uh, someone just stopped by to see me a moment ago. Told me to ‘stay away from her husband.’ ”
“Fuck!”
“I thought you should know. I think she followed you last night.”
“Fuck!”
I heard water running in the background, followed by what sounded like a cupboard slamming.
“She stopped by my house this morning, too,” he said on a heavy sigh. “Said she has a lawyer, and he plans to reinstate her parental rights.”
My eyes went wide. “Can she do that?”
“I dunno. My dad’s got a call in to our family lawyer to see if she has any grounds to come after me.”
“Sam.” I swallowed. “Are Carly and I safe here? You said Meegan went a little weird after she had Landon, and she followed you last night. She came and warned me to stay away from you. These are not things a normal, sane person does.”
I could just imagine he was probably running his big hand over his face, scrubbing at the sexy scruff and then up into his thick, silky hair. I’d only seen it a handful of times, but it was an action he did when stressed or frustrated. Gemma, when she was going through a particularly defiant stage at playgroup, had caused him to do such an action multiple times a morning.
“I don’t know.” His voice was quiet.
“I don’t like that answer.”
“Me, either.”
“What should I do?”
“Don’t open your door for anyone, besides me or family. Did you catch what she was driving?”
“No.”
“I think she’s in a rental, anyway.”
Carly tugged on the bottom of my jeans. “Pancakes, Mama?”
I muttered shit under my breath as I pulled open the freezer again, cradling the phone with my shoulder. “I don’t like this, Sam. I don’t like that now I have to watch my back every time I leave my house.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet with remorse. “I’ll take care of it. I’m going to pick the kids up in a couple of hours and take them to lunch. I’ll talk to my dad then and see what he says. Hopefully, his lawyer buddy has called him back with a solution.”
“Hopefully,” I muttered.
“I don’t think she’s a serious threat, if that provides any comfort. She’s just immature and selfish.”
I found the berries in the back of the freezer and plopped the bag on the counter. My fingers were bright red and half-numb. “Fine. If you say so. But if she comes near me or Carly, I will do what I have to do to protect my kid.” I wasn’t trying to be funny, but somehow a giggle bubbled up from my chest, anyway. Nervous laughter.
But there was no laughter on his end. “I understand. I have a bit of work to do, and then I have to go grab the kids. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.” I handed Carly a small bowl of frozen blueberries to tide her over. She clapped and dove in.
“Hey, Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“I had a great time last night.”
My chest tightened, and heat flooded my cheeks and pooled between my legs. “Me, too.”
It was roughly eight-thirty and I was sitting with my feet up, a movie on the television and my laptop in front of me. Carly and I had had a busy day. I’d wanted to stay out of the house as much as I could, in case Meegan decided to come back, so my kid and I spent the whole day out. Lunch at her favorite kiddie cupcake café, the indoor play gym, grocery shopping (which she preferred over play gym), and finally the pool for the family swim. She skipped her nap, mostly because we were go-go-go all day, then crashed hard at seven o’clock. I was considering getting up and pouring myself some wine when my phone buzzed next to me. At first I thought it mig
ht be a text, but then it continued to buzz and Sam’s face popped up.
“Hello?”
A long sigh greeted me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything.”
“Shit. She can get her rights back?”
“I have no fucking clue about that. She showed up at lunch today with me and the kids.”
“NO!”
“Yes.”
“How the hell did she know you were going to be there?”
“Because I’ve been taking the kids to The Plaid Badger for years. Even when Meegan was around, we went there nearly every Sunday for brunch or lunch. It was a family tradition. And not wanting to mess with things too much with the kids, I kept it up.”
“So, what happened?”
“She pulled up a chair. Had a birthday present for Landon.”
“What was it?”
He snorted. “A fucking firetruck with about fifteen tiny-ass chokeable pieces. Said for ages six and up right on the side of the box.”
“Moron,” I scoffed.
“Totally.”
“Then what happened?” There was a pause, and I thought for a moment my cheek might have hung up the call. I checked. Nope, still active. “Hello?”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Is your sister home?”
Now it was my turn to pause. “Yes, why?”
“Can she watch Carly for an hour?”
I couldn’t get a read on his tone. It sounded almost desperate.
“I assume so. I can just take the baby monitor upstairs. She’s probably up there doing her beading. Why?”
“Because I need to see you. Today has been fifteen kinds of shitty, and I need to make it better. I need to see you. I need to bury my face between your legs and forget this entire day even happened.”
Holy flying fuck! “I, uh, I think I can get away for a bit.”
“Good.” His tone changed again. This time it was dark, dangerous and dominant. A thrill chased its way around my body, finally ending between my legs. “If you’re not here in twenty minutes, I’m going to punish you.” Then the line went dead.
Chapter 18
Sam
I put my phone down on the kitchen counter and ran my hand over my face, scrubbing at my beard. Harper liked the beard. It stayed. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. She had nineteen minutes to get her tight little yoga pants over here before there were consequences. I hoped she was late. My palm twitched, and my cock surged in my jeans at the thought of punishing her for being tardy. Our little introduction into play last night had reawakened my need for control in the bedroom, and tonight she was going to get an even bigger taste of my dominant side. I needed to take inventory of my toys. Damn, they all probably needed a good washing. It’d been ages; I’d bet they were coated in dust.
I double-checked all the doors at the back of the house were locked (I’d changed all the locks when Meegan left the first time), turned off the lights in the kitchen and made my way upstairs. Both kids had passed out at seven, a full thirty minutes before their regular bedtime. It wasn’t unusual for a Sunday night. They were usually go-go-go all weekend long with my parents, but given the nightmare of lunch, I had been anticipating a battle at bedtime.
Slowly, I climbed the stairs. What the fuck was Meegan’s angle? I couldn’t figure the woman out. Mind you, I’d never been able to figure the woman out. She was a puzzle, and not the fun jigsaw kind.
Peering into Gemma’s room, I checked on where she was: tucked up on her knees, her cheek on the pillow and her cat stuffed animal tucked firmly under her purple-casted arm. She wasn’t a big fan of covers, kicked them off most nights, so instead we just made sure her pajamas were warm and she had socks on. I shut her door, careful not to let it click, then stepped across the hall to Landon’s room.
He was still in a crib, and much like his sister, out cold with his butt in the air, a soother going full-speed in his mouth. I shut his door as well, then made my way to the master bedroom. This would be the first time I’d had a woman in my bed since Meegan left. The first time I had sex in the house with the kids home since Meegan left. I hoped to God Harper could be quiet. Gemma was a light sleeper.
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. She had fourteen minutes.
Opening up my closet, I pulled down the box that held all my toys and then wandered into the master bathroom to go and give everything a quick scrub. I never used things like vibrators, beads or plugs with multiple partners, everything was always new with a new partner. But even floggers and crops needed to be cleaned. As I stood there wiping things down, I reflected on the afternoon. It had been a complete gong show at the restaurant, and at the moment, I wasn’t sure we’d ever go back.
“Sunshine Happy Pancakes, please,” Gemma had said with a big smile as she handed the waitress her kids’ menu at the restaurant.
“And what kind of juice would you like?” asked Kandycce, the server.
“Pineapple.” We were regulars. Kandycce knew us well. We didn’t need the list of juices. When it came to Gemma, it was always pineapple. Gemma flashed Kandycce a big toothy smile, and the heavily tattooed and pierced waitress with a shock of bright pink hair winked at her before spinning on her heel to go place our order.
“You know one day I think you should try a different flavor of juice,” I said, taking a sip of my much needed coffee. “I happen to think their strawberry guava juice is awesome.”
My three-and-a-half-year-old just lifted one shoulder and picked up her crayons. “I like pineapple.” Even with a cast on, she still managed to hold a crayon and was busy coloring a forest scene on one of the coloring sheets the restaurant provided.
I’d been coming to this restaurant for years. Pretty much since it opened. In the early days, it was a place to feed the hangover, with their all-day breakfasts, amazing Caesars and killer eggs benny, but as the years went on, it became a Sunday ritual with Meegan, then eventually with the kids. Half the wait staff had at least six body piercings each, sleeves and socks of tattoos and, much like Kandycce, a rainbow array of hair colors. The décor was what I could only describe as dumpster chic, or trashy avant-garde. I couldn’t remember what the place had been before The Plaid Badger took over, but something told me the owners had put up the retro wallpaper, then deliberately put tears in it. Add in some random graffiti spray-painted on the tabletops, walls and ceilings, and it was a colorful and lively joint, even when the closed sign was up. I was busy helping Gemma navigate the maze on her restaurant-issued coloring page when a shrill voice from behind me interrupted our happy family moment.
“Happy birthday, big guy!” Suddenly a brightly wrapped parcel was plopped onto the table in front of Landon, making his big blue eyes grow wide. Meegan twirled herself around in front of me and took up the vacant spot in the booth next to Gemma. Gemma eyed her mother, then looked to me for direction, her cheeks pink and her eyes threatening tears.
I leaned over the table, glaring at Meegan, and gnashed my molars as I spoke. “What are you doing here?”
She lifted a slender shoulder in a shrug, peeling off her black down North Face jacket. “Having lunch, same as you guys. I already ordered at the front.”
“Daddy?” Gemma mewled, equal parts curiosity and upset in her voice as well as on her face.
“Climb under the table to come sit with me and Landon if you need to, sweetheart,” I said, instantly changing my expression from murderous to concerned as I took in her fragile state.
She glanced at Meegan again before grabbing her coloring paraphernalia and slinking down beneath the table.
“I’m not a leper,” Meegan sneered. “Jesus Christ, Sam. She can sit next to her mother.” I didn’t think the woman would go there, but she did. She leaned under the table. “Gemma, get up here now.”
“Nnnno!”
Meegan put her arms under the table. “Now, young lady. You are creating a scene.”
The sound of a struggle down below competed with the din of lunch in the
diner. I made sure Landon wasn’t going to topple over in his booster seat, then I pushed myself up from the table to crouch down to look at Gemma. Meegan had her by the bicep of her casted arm, and hot tears were forming in my daughter’s eyes. The look on her mother’s face was a mix of triumph and anger. I wrapped my fingers around Meegan’s wrist.
“Let. Go. Of. Her. Now. Or I swear, so help me God, Meegan, I will remove your fingers myself, and you’re not going to like it.”
Challenge ignited in her eyes. “You’re raising rude children.” She let go of Gemma and sat back up in her seat. Gemma flung herself from below the table into my arms, clinging to me like a limpet that smelled of crayons and lavender baby soap.
I stood up, keeping Gemma tight against me as I took my seat next to Landon. He was heavily engrossed in the task of trying to dissolve a teaspoon with his saliva. Gemma snuggled in tight against my chest and I ran my hand down her back. She was trembling, and little muffled sobs filtered out as warm, wet tears dampened my T-shirt. Fury swamped me and I shot daggers at the woman sitting across from us in the booth.
Meegan appeared bored. “Some kids you’re raising there, Sam. Gemma is bloody rude and Landon looks dumb as a box of fucking rocks sitting there sucking on a spoon.”
Gemma’s head snapped up from my chest with a gasp, and she sent her own red-hot daggers at her mother. “We don’t swear … Meegan.”
God, I fucking loved this kid.
“I think you should leave,” I said calmly, even though inside I was anything but.
She snorted through her pinched nose. “I want to spend time with my children.”
“And grabbing them, calling them rude, stupid and swearing in front of them seems like a wise way to start?”
Ignoring me, she reached for the wrapped present she’d plunked onto the table and began to open it. “I’m going to help you with your present. Okay, buddy?” she said to Landon.
Landon wasn’t fazed. He just continued to mouth his spoon and fist, drool running down his chubby chin and even chubbier hand.
