by Lexy Timms
Murmuring his name into his lips as he swallowed my sounds, my body losing myself in his.
I arched into him and he molded himself to me. Caving to me so our lips never parted. My muscles contracted and my legs convulsed, visibly shaking with yet another orgasm. He grunted as he pounded into me, my pussy milking his cock for all he had. I felt his body release inside of me, painting my walls and marking me as his in ways I’d never allowed any other man to do.
Then the two of us collapsed to the bed, panting for air and pressing kisses against each other as we held the other close.
I laid there in bed that night, afraid of going to sleep. Afraid that, if I woke up, it would all be a dream. The familiar feeling of Gray’s arousal between my legs should’ve provided me with a sense of comfort, but it only made me nervous. What if none of this was happening? Or worse, what if this was all a smokescreen? What if things changed once the baby was born? But the way Gray had been acting all day gave me hope. It gave me the impression that maybe there was some sort of hope for the future.
Hope for our future.
And it was that thought alone that finally allowed me to rest.
I woke up the next morning to the sun streaming through the windows and Gray’s lips upon my forehead. I turned over and saw him lying there, naked and glistening with the morning sun. I smiled up at him and he dipped his lips to mine, capturing them in the sweetest kiss he’d ever given me.
“I hate to rush off, but I have some business to deal with,” he said.
“The world doesn’t stop for a man like you,” I said. “Go on. I need to get a shower anyway.”
I felt his hand roll over my stomach, his palm cupping it lightly before he bent to give me one last kiss. And that act alone sent hope rushing through my veins. The dam broke and I allowed myself to believe that this really was happening. Gray really was trying to make all of this work. The way he cupped my stomach, like he was trying to protect what was his? It sealed the deal for me.
I sat up and smiled as I watched him gather up his clothes, leaving my room stark naked and flexing with every step he took.
Getting up, I showered and dressed, then puttered around the house. Every day there was a new room for me to discover. A new facet of the house I hadn’t seen yet. I pulled out my laptop and sat down in the living room in order to do some online shopping. I was looking at and pricing things for the baby. Cribs and changing tables and clothes over the years. Cloth diapers versus disposable, and strollers that were both good and bad. It made me nervous to see all of that money. How expensive things were for children. The smallest voice at the back of my mind tore through my thoughts, so I started a running list of all the things my child would need along with the prices.
Then, I started a column of the things my child could do without. Just in case I was wrong yet again about my circumstance with Gray.
I was in the process of looking up prices for clothes when the doorbell rang. I ignored it, figuring Gray would hear it and come to the door, but no one came. The doorbell rang again and I wondered if anyone would get upset if I answered it. But the third time the damn thing sounded in the house, I figured someone needed to answer the door.
I opened the door and found a box sitting on the porch. I picked it up and looked at the return address and my body stilled. What was Gray doing getting packages from Stillsville?
“Gray?” I called out.
But there was no answer as I kicked the door closed.
“Gray, you here?” I asked again.
And still, silence.
I reached for my cell phone and called him up. For all I knew, he was in the middle of the vineyard. I set the package down on the coffee table like it was on fire. I didn’t want to touch it any more than I had to.
“Hey there, beautiful. Everything okay?” Gray asked.
I smiled at his words before I cleared my throat.
“You got a package,” I said. “The return address is from Stillsville.”
“Is the last name on it Angier?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “For you from someone named—”
“That’s the realtor. The man working on closing the deal on Anton’s home. Go ahead and open it, then set it on the kitchen counter. I’ll deal with it once I get back.”
“Where are you?” I asked. “I didn’t know you were heading out.”
“I’m out in the vineyards right now and I have to run in to town for a meeting.”
“Well, stay safe. The sun looks hot.”
“Trust me, it is. And I will. I’ll go through the package once I get back. If it’s documents or something, call me back. If it’s anything else, I’ll tend to it when I get home.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then I’ll let you know what it is once I open it.”
“Talk to you soon, Michelle.”
“Can’t wait,” I said, with a smile.
I hung up the phone call and tore directly into the box. I was curious to know what had been sent to him. I got the box open and found a note sitting on top. A note from the same man that had addressed the package.
Mr. MacDonald,
These are some personal effects from the attic that were boxed up. The buyer is going through the house and sending some things off, and I figured you might want these.
Mr. Angier
I took a picture of the note and sent it to Gray, and he shot back with a quick response.
Set it in the kitchen. I’ll go through it later.
But I couldn’t help myself.
I slowly rifled through the box, taking in the familiar book covers. More photo albums. I pulled a couple out and began flipping through them, but as I got closer to the bottom I noticed that one of them didn’t look like the others. The front was a faded black, almost leather-like quality. Much older than the other albums. I pulled it out and set the rest inside, trying not to make a nasty, dusty mess of the coffee table in Gray’s living room. I sat down on the couch and flipped it open, my eyes scanning the old and yellowed pictures.
And I recognized who was in them.
I smiled as my fingers drifted over his face. Much younger, and his hair was thick and dark. But I’d never forget that smile. The old photo album was full of pictures from when Anton was younger. And they were fascinating. I flipped all the way through them, taking in Anton’s wide smile and his sparkling eyes. One in particular caught my attention. A picture of him with his arm slid around a beautiful woman’s slim waist.
I pulled back the plastic to slide it out and get a better look, but instead of pulling out one picture, I pulled out two.
I set aside the one I had been reaching for in exchange for the other one. Tears rushed my eyes when I saw it. There Anton was, holding a baby in his arms and smiling like an absolute maniac. If the picture were a high enough resolution, I could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes. The small bundle wrapped up in a blanket and lying in the swollen forearms of the strong man I’d come to know back in Illinois.
My hand trembled as my mind began to reel with questions.
What had ever become of that child? Was the child was somehow kin to Anton? Maybe it was someone he had lost, because I didn’t recall him talking about ever having a child. Gosh, had Anton lost his only offspring?
The thought made me sick as I leaned into the couch.
I pressed the picture against my stomach, already in love with the child growing inside of me. I couldn’t imagine losing it like Anton apparently had. And my love and respect for Anton grew in that very moment. The sympathy and empathy that filled my body welled my eyes with tears. Pushed them down my cheeks until I brought my hands to my face and sobbed.
I’d do anything to protect my child. Anything to protect them from the harshness of this world.
And in the back of my mind, I knew Anton would’ve done the same had he ever gotten the chance.
“Oh, Anton,” I said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry.”
Chapter 23
Grayson
/> Sitting in my office downtown, I waited for my next meeting. I kept looking back at the picture of the note Michelle had sent me. What in the world had that damn realtor found in that house now? I was tempted to ask Michelle to send me a picture of what was in the box, but I didn’t want to disturb her. Plus, I was about to have another very important meeting regarding the distribution of my latest batch of wine to prepare for the fall season. Which meant I needed to focus, not dig into more of the past on a whim when I didn’t know what else it held.
The phone on my desk rang out and I picked it up. I figured it was the distributor calling to tell me he was late, but instead heard a voice I never expected to hear again.
“Grayson MacDonald.”
“Hey there, Gray.”
“Andy?” I asked.
“You’re a hard man to track down.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Your website.”
“My website doesn’t have my number,” I said.
“I pestered the email address on your website for it.”
I’d have to really have a word with Maria once I got back home.
“You sound good,” I said. “And by good, I mean sober.”
“Well, I haven’t been drunk in a few days now, so hopefully I do sound better.”
“You haven’t been drunk? Or you haven’t been drinking?”
“I’ve been sober for a few days, Gray.”
“That’s good. Are you calling to complain about my product, then?”
“No,” he said, with a chuckle. “No, I’m not.”
“It’s good to hear you laughing. Means you might not have shitty news for me,” I said.
“I was actually wondering if your offer for rehab was still on the table.”
Surprised at the unexpected news, I sat back in my chair as the distributor showed up at my door. But this was more important than some due date for my wine. I ushered him into my office and pointed him to a chair, then raised my finger to my lips to shut him up.
“Only if you’re serious about it,” I said.
“I am. I cleaned out my house. Got rid of all the booze and beer and empty cans.”
“Did you clean up the vomit in the corner as well?”
The distributor sitting in the chair wrinkled his nose at me.
“I did. This place looks a lot better than it did. The withdrawals are rough, but I’ve gotten to the point where only my hands are shaking a little bit.”
“And you haven’t had a drop,” I said.
“No. I haven’t even been in town to the bar. I had to cancel some gigs I had coming up in some bars, so I’m not sure how I’m going to salvage my music or whatever. But I figure it’s a small price to pay for not being like your old man.”
So he had been listening.
“The offer still stands if you’re serious,” I said. “But the second you’re not, I’ll have the facility kick you out and stick you with the bill.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll make the arrangements and have you picked up. You won’t be doing rehab anywhere near Stillsville. The best facilities are scattered all across California. I’ll make sure you’re in one of the best.”
“Any one will do,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be all that.”
“If you want to put your best foot forward, it will be. These places don’t simply get you sober. They help you piece your life together. Teach you how to eat well and exercise and meditate. Shit like that to keep you on the right path.”
“Do you do any of that shit?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go to the rehab facility and when you’re out, you can find out with me?” I asked.
The pause on the phone was deafening.
“I appreciate it, Gray. Really.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said.
“Can I just—tell you one more thing?”
My eyes whipped over to my distributor before I nodded my head.
“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Despite all those shitty rumors, I never slept with Michelle after she moved out. I wanted to. I tried to get her to. But we weren’t together. She wouldn’t have anything to do with me, and rightfully so.”
I clenched my jaw as I closed my eyes.
“Michelle isn’t the kind of woman this town painted her to be. They don’t like outsiders, you know that. Michelle’s a one-man woman. Always had been. Even when I treated her like shit, she never stepped out and she always stuck around. She doesn’t cheat or lie. She’s one of the good ones, and I hate that I fucked up my chances with her.”
“That why you’re getting sober?” I asked.
“No. I’m getting sober because I heard what you said. And because I almost killed myself a few nights ago choking on my own puke.”
“Those are all sound reasons.”
“I don’t know if you hear from Michelle anymore or anything, but if you do, tell her to call me. I owe her an apology.”
While I had no intention of doing that, I could hear the sentiment in his voice. Andy was being serious about everything, and I was more than ready to help him out of the hole he had dug himself.
“I’ll call you back soon with the details of your rehab,” I said.
“Do you need my number?” Andy asked.
“My phone has caller I.D.,” I said. “I’ve already got it.”
“Thanks again, Gray.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Rehab’s a bitch, from what I hear.”
Then, I hung up the phone.
The news from Andy wasn’t as shocking as it seemed. Somewhere, deep down inside, I knew Michelle was an angel. I knew she wasn’t the woman that idiotic place was attempting to portray her as. And I knew those screaming voices in my head were wrong. But now that Andy had confirmed it, I felt like nothing was standing in our way. That child growing within her was mine. I had created a family with the most incredible woman on the planet.
Which left me with only one other thing to do to show Michelle we could really do this.
I sped up the meeting with my distributor and finalized the plans. I signed the paperwork quicker than I’d ever had before, then I reached for my cell phone as I locked up my office. Finally, I could build a life with Michelle. Her and our child, if she would have me. I knew there was work to be done. Bridges to rebuild. Trust to earn back. I’d acted like an asshole and said terrible things to her. Things I could never take back. But that didn’t mean it was over for us.
It was only just beginning for our family.
I fought for what I wanted. Always. My entire life had been built on the premise of it. From surviving my dad, to fighting for my professional football career, to fighting for my own vineyard. And I wasn’t above fighting for Michelle. In fact, I would fight harder for her than anything I’d ever fought for in my entire life. I knew I could convince Michelle that I wanted her and only her—if I went about it the right way.
I slammed into my car and cranked it up, then called Maria as I sped down the road.
“The meeting already over?” she asked.
“Everything went according to plan. You’ll be getting distribution dates later. Look, I need your help,” I said.
“Who are you and what have you done with Grayson MacDonald?”
“Would you cut the shit and listen to me? I want Michelle in my life permanently, Maria.”
I sped around the corner, running a yellow light as my tires squealed.
“And when you say permanently, you mean—?”
“That I want to let her know in the most romantic way possible, and as soon as possible,” I said. “That child is mine, Maria.”
“Wait, she gave you the paternity test?”
“No, and I don’t have time to go into it. But I know that child is mine, Maria. I have a family, and in a few short months I’m going to be a father. And I’m not doing this without her. I—”
My car came to a screeching halt as the words dawned on my mind.
I love her.
“Don’t say it!” Maria exclaimed. “If you haven’t said it yet, then hold on. Because the first person you should say it to is her. Oh my gosh, Gray. I’m going to help you set up the world’s most romantic proposal. That’s what you’re talking about, right? Proposing?”
I smiled at the word as ideas ran through my mind.
I was going to ask Michelle to be my wife.
“Yes,” I said. “I want to ask Michelle to marry me.”
“Oh my gosh!” Maria yelled. “I have to go. I have to do some research. Send me your ideas so I can incorporate them. By the time you’re down on your knee and ready to pop the question, she will already be itching to say yes.”
I smiled and shook my head as laughter fell from my lips. Joy filled my veins. My heart soared into the clouds. Michelle was mine. Michelle was the mother of my child.
And if I did this right, by the end of the week she would commit to being my wife.
Chapter 24
Michelle
It had been a couple of days since that package first arrived from Stillsville, and every day since then things had been arriving at Gray’s place. A box from Anton’s place, full of more pictures and a couple of artifacts from around the house. A wooden crate of wine from a vineyard I found out was up the road. Even a couple of books I figured he had ordered while at work. But when I opened the door Friday morning and found a formal courier standing there in a suit, I furrowed my brow.
“Miss Michelle Danforth?”
“That’s me,” I said.
“This is for you,” the courier said.
He held out a manila envelope with my name on it, and I didn’t recognize the return address.
“I think you have the wrong person. I didn’t order anything,” I said.
But the man only continued to smile while holding out the envelope. I took it from his hands and he nodded to try and bid me farewell. I looked down at the envelope in my hand and furrowed my brow as I shut the front door. A sudden feeling of unease came over me and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I pulled up an internet search and typed in the return address, trying to figure out who this package had come from.
