He looks at both of us. “Oh, that’s how it is. Okay.”
I nudge him toward the door. “I’ll call you later.”
He lets me push him, but he looks back at Miryam. “Can she call me later, too?”
I open the door and shove him through it. “Out.”
I close the door, ready to do awful, wonderful things to my girlfriend. When I walk back to the living room, Miryam is standing there holding Mr. T. He’s lying in her arms like a traitor. I’m the one who feeds him and puts on his anxiety shirts. He barely looks at me.
“Who’s this guy? Or girl?” She scratches under his chin.
I want her to scratch under my chin. I’m jealous of my own ferret.
“That’s Mr. T.”
“Is this the shirt he was wearing when the detective came over?”
I nod.
“You’re an idiot.”
She nuzzles Mr. T’s face. I rub my abs to try to get her attention back in my direction.
“Do you want to see the rest of the place?” Like the bedroom.
She laughs and puts my ferret on the ground. “I haven’t forgotten about you.”
She takes the few steps to me and lifts her and to the bun in her hair.
I wrap my hand around her wrist. “No, leave it. I like the bun.”
She runs her hands down my chest and hooks her fingers under the waistband of my jeans. “Oh, do you have a librarian fantasy?”
I move her arms long enough to push her jacket off her shoulders. “I do now, and I have a very, very overdue book.”
She pops the button on my jeans. “Oh, my. What are we going to do about that?”
I untuck her shirt from her skirt. I want to rip it open and send the buttons flying, but I bet she’ll kill me. I unbutton it like a gentleman, but the stupid tiny buttons slow me down. After what feels like hours, her shirt drops to the floor with her jacket.
She’s wearing this white lace bra with tan flowers. Her body and tanned skin can make anything look good, but this… This is beyond sexy. Miryam slides the zipper down on the side of her skirt. I didn’t know zippers could be on the sides, so I’m glad she saved me that trouble. She steps out of her skirt and kicks it behind her.
I don’t know enough baseball stats or sad videos to keep me from blowing my load in my pants like a teenage boy. She’s standing there wearing that white bra and a white thong and those glasses. Fucking hell. I’m not going to last two seconds inside her. If I make it that long.
She reaches up and pulls her glasses down.
“Noooo!” I stretch that one word out for three seconds. “Keep the glasses on.”
She pushes them back up her nose and gives me a devilish grin. “Yes, Mr. Wright.”
I unzip my jeans before my dick tears through them. Pulling my wallet out of my pocket, I search for the last condom in there. I might have to get a Costco membership and buy in bulk if I’m going to have Miryam around. Which I am. All the time.
I find it and throw the wallet across the room. I’ll pick it up later.
I put my hand under Miryam’s chin. “I wanted this to be sweet and slow, but I can’t wait another minute. You know I love you, right?”
Her eyes are all pupil. She nods. “I do.”
I suck her bottom lip into my mouth before running my nose across her cheek to her ear.
“Good. Then bend over the couch.”
I guide her back down so her hands are on the seat cushions. Her perfect ass is like a work of art staring me in the face. I’ve seen a lot of nice asses at the beach, but none of them looked like this. I smack her right cheek. She squeals. I wait to see if she’s going to turn around and take a swing at me, but she leans back and rubs her ass on my crotch instead.
God, I love this woman.
I push my jeans and underwear down to my ankles. I rip open the condom and throw the wrapper somewhere near where my wallet landed. I roll it on with one hand and use the other to slide her thong to the side.
I don’t even have to touch her to see that she’s as ready for this as I am. I rub my dick against her. I can hear her muttering words under her breath.
“Are you ready for me, Miri?”
“Yes! Please!” Her voice is muffled against the cushions, but I can hear her loud and clear.
I hold her hips up to get a better angle. I push myself inside, using every ounce of restraint to not bust a nut right then. I pull out and push back in, working her hips with mine. She pushes back against me harder and faster. I’m really not going to last much longer. I hope she’ll stay the night so we can do this a few more times.
I slide my hands around her more to help her go faster. I’ve got a tight grip on her hips. I hope I don’t leave bruises. I can feel the tension building and I can’t slow it down.
“Fuck, Ben, yes!” Miryam yells into the cushions.
Her hair tumbles out of the bun and spreads out along the couch. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
My fingertips dig into her hips harder as I lose control. I want to beat my chest and yell at the ceiling. I’ve never felt more alive. I got a huge problem off my plate, declared my love, and bent the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen over the couch.
Today has been productive.
I put my hand under her body to help her up.
She turns around to look at me. Her hair is a mess. Her glasses are crooked. And I want to fuck her all over again.
She pushes her hair out of her face. “Well, that was different.”
My smile falls because different isn’t always good.
“I think we should add that into the regular rotation.” She rubs my chest.
“That sounds good to me.”
She points to my bedroom. “Do you have a bathroom in that direction that I can use?”
“I do. Don’t take a shower though, unless you invite me.”
That’s a whole other thing we can try later. There will be lots of laters.
I clean up in the guest bathroom while she uses mine.
I find her lying on my bed when I’m done. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She’s got her hands behind her head and her ankles crossed. She looks totally at home.
She smirks and I know something’s coming.
“I thought you said you only had one pillow.”
Nothing gets past her.
I lie on the bed next to her. “Maybe I bought another one because I was hoping someone would use it.”
She rolls over and puts her hand on my chest. “I hope that someone is me.”
I pull her into my side. “It’s always going to be you.”
EPILOGUE
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR MAKES
MIRYAM
“Don’t you dare scratch that table!”
Steed catches his end of my great-grandmother’s coffee table before it hits the floor. I blow out the breath I was holding and close my eyes.
“Tell me one more time why you didn’t hire movers!” Sheba struggles with the other end of the table.
In their defense, my great-grandfather made it for his bride with his own hands, and the thing is basically half a tree.
Ben walks in the door behind them, carrying two dining chairs. “Moving is fun! Who wants to bring strangers into this? You can’t tell me you’re not having fun.”
Sheba glares at me, but she addresses Ben. “That’s exactly what I’ve told you since the first minute I got here. People who aren’t in college hire professional movers. This is a violation of my dignity and my civil liberties.” She grunts and sets the table down in the living room. “I hope Miryam punches you again.”
“That only happened once!” Ben yells from the dining room.
“Twice!” I yell back.
“Are we moving, or are we talking?” Mr. Wright pushes a hand truck stacked with boxes through the doorway. “Matlock comes on in two hours and there will be Hell to pay if I miss it.”
“Dad, that show hasn’t been in syndication in decades. I’ll b
uy you the whole damn series on DVD. Then you can watch it whenever you want.” Ben stops by the kitchen and kisses me before heading back out to the truck.
His dad follows him with the now-empty hand truck. “I don’t need instant gratification like your generation. I waited four years for this episode like a normal person, and I’m not missing it.”
I pick up one of the boxes from the central dumping ground and move it to the master bedroom where it belongs. The label on the side indicates it’s full of pictures. I tear off the tape and open it. I unwrap the frame on top and find the photo of Ben and me at the bris. That was almost exactly a year ago. It still might be my favorite picture of us.
The next picture is of Ben and me, with Mr T. curled up on my shoulder. These photos have only been in a box for two weeks, but I love looking at them. The next one I unwrap is of Ben and Bubbie. He managed a feat accomplished by no one before him—he got her to use a cane. He spent hours gluing rhinestones to it so she could look like a “proper pimp.” His words, not mine. She loves it. She can’t even see it, but she loves it. She says it gives her “street cred.” I haven’t made much progress with talking Bubbie and Aunt Abagail out of their cable package. Clearly.
Ben and I bought a house together last week. I bet we looked at eighty of them before we signed a contract. He wanted something big enough to get all my furniture out of storage. I wanted something close to Bubbie and a single story so she could get around easily when she visits. We finally found the perfect one-story house six blocks from Bubbie. It’s old, it has a weird smell, and I’m certain there’s an alligator living in the broken pool in the back. It’s so perfect.
I started working at a new firm about seven months ago. I’m practicing criminal defense law now, and I love it. David and his girlfriend left our old firm about a month after I punched him in the dick. I could’ve stayed at that firm if I wanted to, but the change felt good. I heard they moved out of town, but I don’t much care. I’m way too happy with my life to waste another second thinking about them.
The next frame I unwrap is a picture I took of Ben in front of his new van. He had to hire an employee and buy a second van after getting a couple of contracts with high-rise buildings. That employee is his brother, who complains constantly about having to drive a van.
I set all the frames back inside the box and push it to the side with my foot. I hear tiny claws scratching on the master bathroom door. We locked Mr. T inside so he wouldn’t get stepped on with all the action. I’m sure he can sense Steed is here, and he wants out badly.
I rub the bottom of the door. “No can do, buddy. You have to stay in there until it’s safe to come out. I’ll make it up to you. I promise you’re going to like what I have planned.”
“Miryam?”
I hear a knock on the doorjamb behind me. Ben’s brother is standing there with Bubbie when I turn around.
“I brought your grandma.”
Bubbie looks every bit the proper pimp with her sunglasses and bedazzled cane.
“Thanks, Jacob.” I hug him and then put my arm through Bubbie’s. “Let’s get you on the couch so no one bumps into you.”
“Miri, I’m a full-grown woman with a sparkly cane. If they can’t see me, then they’re more blind than me.”
Ben walks through the living room with more chairs. “Hey, Jacob. Did you get those boxes from the old house?”
“Yeah, I’ve got the ten cases of Viagra and penis pumps you asked for!” he yells.
Ben tries to sweep Jacob’s legs while he arranges the chairs. “Would you keep your voice down? The front door is open and Miri’s grandma is here.”
Bubbie scoffs. “Don’t be shy on my account. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be your best, Ben.”
Ben punches Jacob in the arm. “Now look what you started. There’s nothing in those boxes but old concert shirts.”
Jacob punches him back. “Hey, I’m not the one who got busted for solicitation.”
“Stop working that into every conversation.”
The two brothers start arguing about each of their missteps. They do this every time. Thankfully, Ben was never charged with anything. Stephanie, however, has been under house arrest since she posted bail months ago. Her trial starts in two months. Ben never has to testify and she never has to know he’s the one who turned her in. The case against her is strong. She’s definitely going to serve some time.
Part of me hates her for using so many people, but a different part is grateful to her for bringing Ben into my life. It’s a weird mixture of feelings.
Some couples are ashamed to admit they met online. They should try falling in love with a hooker. It’s a heck of an ice breaker at parties.
“Hey! Senior cancer survivor here! Why am I the only one working?” Ben’s dad wheels in another load of boxes on the hand truck.
“Russell, come take a load off over here with me.” Bubbie pats the couch next to her.
Mr. Wright is Bubbie’s favorite. He’s the only person with a Gentile name she chooses to remember. They’re the most unlikely duo, but I guess there’s a lot of that going around.
Bubbie opens her purse and pulls out two plastic cups. She hands one to Mr. Wright. She proceeds to pull a full bottle of wine from her purse and twists off the lid. She fills each of their cups. “To being the baddest pimps on the block,” she says with her cup raised.
I’m turning off their cable if I have to physically cut the cord myself.
Steed walks in the front door, with Sheba following behind.
“Are you having a party in here without us?”
Sheba closes the door behind her. “We want to take a moving break, too.”
With Bubbie and Mr. Wright taking up the entire couch, the only place left to sit in the living room is an oversized side chair. They both take a few steps toward it and stop, looking at each other.
“You take the chair.” Steed motions to it.
Sheba scratches her arm. “No, you take the chair. You’ve worked a lot harder than I have today.”
I’m not telling them there are six chairs in the dining room a few feet away.
He puts his hand on her shoulder. “Oh, you were keeping things hard. I mean, working hard. I mean… You know what I mean.”
Sheba walks closer to the chair. I can’t wait to tease her for the extra sway in her hips.
“It’s a big chair. I bet if we try hard, we can make both fit.”
I wonder if we’ve unpacked the water hose because I’m going to turn it on these two.
The doorbell rings, saving them. I dance my way across the living room because I know who this is. “Your housewarming present is here, honey!”
“Why did you buy me a housewarming present? This is your house, too.”
“I didn’t buy it. I adopted it.” I smile huge at him. I can’t believe how much I love this man.
“Adopt, don’t shop, bro. She gets it.” Steed adjusts Sheba on his lap.
I open the door to a tiny woman with graying hair standing on the porch with a small carrier.
“Come in! Come in!” I open it wider so she can walk through. “Ben, this is Maisy with the Greater Miami Ferret Rescue.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ben.” She shakes his hand.
Ben looks distrustful, like he might be hoping there’s a bomb in the carrier instead of the fuzzy nugget pressing his face against the wire door.
I walk over and hug around his torso from the side. It’s like hugging a sequoia tree. “Honey, I got us another pet. Now Mr. T will have a friend.”
“He already has Steed,” he mumbles.
“Damn straight.” Steed taps his chest twice and points to the sky.
Maisy sets the carrier on the ground an opens the door. She pulls out a black ferret with a pink bandana. She nuzzles the animal’s nose. “Welcome to your new home, Tinkerbell.”
“Fuck no.” Ben shakes his head. “Nobody in my house is going to be named Tinkerbell. That’s not happening.�
�
I roll my eyes. Men. “That’s a cute name for her.”
“Nope. I’m calling her Mrs. T.”
I rub his chest because he’s a sucker for that. “Call her whatever you like. She’s ours now.”
“So, my housewarming present is a girlfriend for Mr. T?” He looks down at me with a fake stern gaze.
I kiss him on the chin. “That’s an awfully negative way to look at it, but to each his own.”
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “If Mr. T gets more action than I do, I’m gonna be pissed.”
I try to smother my smile as I look over at Maisy, who’s patiently waiting with the carrier.
“I personally guaranty you will get laid more than our pets. Happy now?” I whisper.
He pulls me tight against his chest. “Very.”
Maisy sets Tinkerbell, now known as Mrs. T, on the ground. The ferret runs to Ben and stands up against his leg, nuzzling him with her nose.
Ben kneels to pet her. “You know, I think she’s going to grow on me.”
I don’t smother this smile. “Things have a funny way of doing that.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Another book is done, and I swear I need more help with each one rather than less.
Debra & Helena, why do you even talk to me? I’m criminally obnoxious and dragging down your brands. You should run far away. (I love you. Please don’t leave me.)
Bill, you probably don’t know what my face looks like without the blue glow of a screen reflecting on it. You’re very patient about that. Thanks for the inspiration and much gratitude for your father’s service.
My Pams & my Filets—thanks for letting me jump on this wild ride with you. You make my life better.
Christina Santos, thanks for being the best PA and for being my brain. I couldn’t survive without you. Honestly.
Shaftkateers—You ladies are the absolute best. Thank you for all the prereading and pimping and general awesomeness you do.
My fellow Backdoor Babes—You ladies are cooler and funnier than I ever thought of being. Our shared calendar is the best in the business & I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.
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