by MK Schiller
Kelly did a little shoulder shrug, obviously enjoying the power she held over me. “I know you considered me a threat and that’s why you got me fired.”
A cynical laugh escaped my mouth, echoing through the luxurious restroom. “You did that all on your own.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t hold a grudge. We’re both in the same boat after all. Neither of us should feel bad that we couldn’t get him to commit.” Was she serious? Was she comparing her obsessive crush to the meaningful relationship I’d had with Damien?
“Thanks for your sympathy, but it’s neither warranted nor requested. Damien and I had a relationship. You had a misguided fantasy. There is a difference.”
“I’ll admit you got further than me, and you were able to sink your claws in pretty deep. It didn’t matter because neither of us had a real chance.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He told his brother that a girl named Jessie had ruined him for other women. That she broke his heart.”
The tears surged freely again and I didn’t even try to control them. Perhaps because I’d stopped crying for myself. My tears flowed for him. Kelly patted me on the shoulder as if she was trying to soothe me. I wouldn’t stoop to her level and explain I was Jessie—it would serve no purpose.
“Don’t feel bad, Emmie. Apparently, this Jessie did a real number on him.” She sighed, putting away her makeup. “I pity the next girl that comes along.”
I didn’t answer. I walked into a stall and leaned against the door, trying my best to remain silent while sobs rocked through my body. He loved me. I knew that. I loved him. I knew that. It wasn’t enough. He wanted those other F-words I couldn’t give him—a future, a family, a forever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The days went on, and I lived through them. I missed him terribly, but having my family around me helped. My girls, each in their own way, asked me to talk about it. Stevie was brash and blunt, telling me I was better off even though I had never told any of them the reason we broke up. Marley was coaxing and consoling, urging me to take time for myself. Billie was poetic and passionate, advising me that I needed to release the pain like a poison that needed purging. Dillon was honest and humorous, plying me with vegan sweets while explaining the stages of a break up, as if I’d never been around that track. Even Prince tried to help by perching himself on my lap in my hours of need. I petted him to a degree of spoilage that he would surely never recover from.
In the end, it was Kate that cajoled my first genuine smile in weeks.
“Would you rather it never happened?” she asked.
That was enough. I’d always treasure the time I spent with him…every sweet, delicious moment. I stitched up the pain, trying to heal myself the only way I could—by moving forward.
Although I smiled again, the wounds kept re-opening. The day he came to present the check to the library and we held a special luncheon for him undid a few of my stitches. Did he really need to wear suspenders?
When I saw the social section of the newspapers where he was attending a black tie dinner with a gorgeous brunette with long legs and the kind of cleavage that demanded attention, I felt another stitch come undone.
Listening to music didn’t even help. Every song mocked me, reminding me of him. When I listened to Mambo No. 5 by Lou Bega and teared up as a result, I knew there was something seriously wrong with me.
My lovesickness was paused, replaced with cold dread, when I received the frantic call from Billie. Regardless of the miles that separated us, I heard the pain in my daughter’s voice and felt her fear.
“Mom,” Billie said in an anguished voice I almost didn’t recognise.
“What is it? What happened?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
I gripped the phone so tightly I felt my knuckles crack.
“I think I broke my wrist.”
“How?”
“I was at self-defence training. It was my fault. I was trying to do something way too advanced for me.”
“Has the doctor seen you?”
“Yes, they’re going to do a cast.”
“Are you in a lot of pain, sweetheart?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She wasn’t fine. She was scared and alone. She wanted her mommy, but she would never say it because she was trying to act brave.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, baby.”
“Mom, it’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”
“I’m booking a flight right now.”
Only there weren’t any flights. It was killing me. I needed to be there for her.
I called the family network. They all looked for flights too. Adam and Rick felt lousy since they had purchased the self-defence lessons in the first place. I reassured them the best I could, while maintaining my own calm. It wasn’t easy.
Kate came over for moral support.
“Kate, what am I going to do? I’m so worried about her.”
“Relax, Emmie. It’s routine.”
“She’s never even been to the hospital. I can’t let her go through this alone, but there aren’t any flights.”
Kate rested her hand on my shoulder. “What would you give to be there?”
“Anything.”
“Would you swallow your pride?”
I stared at her quizzically.
She arched her eyebrows waiting for me to comprehend her meaning.
“You think I should call Damien?”
“The man owns a plane. If anyone can get you there it’s him.”
I hit the button on my cell to call the number I had tried to delete so many times to no avail. It took three transfers to get to him, but he took my call.
“Damien…”
“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he heard my voice. “Tell me.”
“Billie’s at the hospital. She broke her wrist. It’s a simple procedure, but I want to be there and there aren’t any flights and—”
“I’m on my way.”
It didn’t surprise me that he’d help me. That was the kind of man he was. It did stun me when he insisted on coming with me.
“Damien, you’ve been more than generous. You don’t have to come with me,” I said when he took the seat beside me.
“I need to go to New York too.”
“Do you have business there?”
“Yes, I have a good friend, whose daughter is in the hospital. She wants to be there for her daughter, and I want to be there…for her.”
I nodded, hoping my face expressed thanks. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Gratitude was spewing out of me like a leaking valve. He turned on his laptop and worked beside me, keeping his hand inches from mine. I didn’t need an invitation. I clasped it, squeezing tight.
I called Billie again and talked to her on the phone until we landed. Unfortunately, they’d had to reset the fracture.
We rushed to the hospital in record time despite the rain-sleet mixture covering the streets with a slick sheet of ice. I was a complete mess, incapable of speech, but his presence calmed me. He talked to the receptionist and found out where she was. He led the way, and found the staff nurse. He took my hand and walked me over to the surgeon who was attending to my daughter. Billie was still getting her cast when we got there. I leaned my head against his shoulder in the waiting room.
“This hospital is one of the best in the county for this kind of injury,” he said.
“How do you know that?”
“I looked it up on the plane. Want to see my research?”
He flipped the laptop so I could view the screen. It was the sweetest, most perfect gesture he could have made.
“You can go see her now,” the nurse said.
He squeezed my hand, kissing my cheek. “Go.”
She sat on the hospital bed, messy golden hair, puffy eyes and a weak smile. She looked like an angel with a broken wing.
“Does it hurt, baby?”
“I’ve been better, but it’s not so bad.”
&nb
sp; I sat on the edge of her bed, pouring a cup of water for her. “Drink this,” I said, holding it up to her lips.
“I’m glad you’re here, Mom.” Her voice cracked as she said the words. My brave girl was vulnerable.
It took a few hours of additional x-rays, doctor visits and general hovering before they started her release papers. I kept checking on Damien, urging him to go back to Chicago, but he insisted on staying, reassuring me he could work in the waiting room.
“I’m going to stay with you a few days,” I told Billie.
“Mom, I promise you I’m fine now. I was scared at first. I feel better though. Besides, Jenny’s going to watch over me.”
“Jenny’s your roommate. I’m your mom.”
“Mom, I got this,” she said with confidence.
I studied her closely, trying to spot a lie. “Okay, sweetheart, but I’m just a phone call away.”
“You think I can’t handle this? I’ve been in the mosh pit at a Marilyn Mason concert!”
I laughed with the realisation she’d stolen my Grateful Dead analogy.
Damien knocked on the door and popped his head in, drawing our attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to see if I should bring the car around now.”
“It’s no problem, we’re just waiting for her discharge papers,” I said. “Damien, this is my daughter, Billie. Billie, this is Damien Wolfe, my good friend.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, now that she’s here,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “Thanks for making that happen.”
He nodded, shutting the door behind him.
She turned to me, with a bright smile. “Dish.”
“Dish what?”
“Why did your plumber come with you?”
I laughed. “He’s just being a good friend.”
“Mom, this is not a friend favour. It’s more than that.”
“It is, but it doesn’t matter. Our relationship isn’t meant to be.”
“It’s a shame. He’s really superhot.” She shut her eyes tight, cupping her hand to her mouth. “Gross.”
“What?”
“That’s so Freudian of me. I just said my mother’s boyfriend is hot.”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend and it’s true, he is very hot. I am not discussing it with you. Right now, we have to get you back to the dorm.”
Luckily, the nurse came in then with Billie’s discharge papers. Damien again took care of me and in turn, Billie. The town car he’d ordered dropped us at her dorm. He helped Billie manage the short walk to her room and I stayed with her for a few hours, making sure Jenny had all the instructions while Damien retrieved her prescriptions. Only when both girls threatened to kick me out did I leave.
Damien remained in the car waiting for me. The cold wind snapped my hair all around my face. He got out to open the door for me, tucking a strand back before I got in. We sat in silence for a moment. “We can’t fly out because of the weather, so I reserved a hotel—separate rooms of course.”
“Thank you. I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”
“You already have, Jessie.”
The Luxemburg hotel had a view of the Manhattan skyline. The posh, expensive façade was far too extravagant for a night of sleep.
I sat on the king-sized bed in my room, leaning my head against the wall, imagining him doing the same. I chided my ridiculous thoughts. He was over me. Damien was the best kind of man, one who wouldn’t turn his back on someone, but his eyes lacked the heated desire they’d once held for me.
Despite the luxurious bed, I tossed and turned. I yearned for his touch so deeply that I actually felt an ache in my body. The diffused sound of music made its way through the insulation and drywall that separated us. I stood up and pressed my ear to the wall. It was muted, but I was pretty sure he was playing Feels Good at First by Train. I smiled, remembering I’d once told him Pat Monahan’s voice made me hot. Was it a coincidence? Was he thinking about us? I pressed my body against the walls, wanting to call out to him. I imagined him lying on the bed, working on his laptop, dark hair damp from a shower. Then I made the mistake of adding myself to the dream. His clean, musky masculine scent drifted against my skin. He held me, shirtless of course, showing off that sexy tattoo of his, with all its spirals and patterns. His sex vex just visible against the band of his boxers.
My body reacted to the image. Damn…I was humping the wall.
How did he make me like this? I marched to his room and knocked on the door before I could talk myself out of it.
He opened it…shirtless and in nothing but his black boxer briefs.
“Hiya, Jessie,” he said, smiling.
I felt dumb standing there in my pink pyjamas with the hole in the thigh while he looked so damn delicious.
“You always answer the door like this?” I asked, taking in his perfect physique.
“Only when I know it’s you doing the knocking. Cute pyjamas.”
I laughed. “Do you want to hear something weird?”
“Always up for something weird.”
“I just humped the wall.”
He shrugged. “Not that weird.”
“You don’t think it’s creepy?”
“Only if the wall humped you back.”
He took hold of my arm, pulling me into the room. “This song did it, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
His expression puzzled, he arched his brow. “I’ve been playing music for the last hour, trying to convince you to come to me.”
“I didn’t hear it.”
“Fuck, I should have turned it up. The walls are more insulated than I thought.”
“I’m here now.”
His mouth was on me before I knew it. Oh, how I’d missed that mouth. He kicked the door shut and led me to the bed, which was not an easy task since he never took his lips off me.
“What are we doing?” I struggled to find reason in the midst of my overpowering desire.
“We’re having a weak moment. We’re allowed.”
Once he said that, the last of my defences resigned. He threw me on the bed and climbed up my body, marking each advance with a soft wet kiss or flick of his tongue. In a trance, controlled by his touch, I watched him, my body squirming with each action. He pulled off my pyjama pants in one graceful motion. He ripped off my panties like a true predator and unfastened the ridiculous number of buttons on my top with the patience of a practiced lover.
I squirmed beneath him when his hands travelled down my body, rubbing every part of me, followed by his tongue and lips. He pinched my nipples, rolling them between his nimble fingers before sucking on the hardened peaks. He came back to my mouth, nibbling on my lower lip. He trailed kisses down my waist.
“I missed this little guy,” he said, kissing my pink bear tattoo then licking it repeatedly. “Oh and I’ve been dreaming of this pussy every damn night,” he said. His tongue penetrated my sex. “So fucking delicious.”
I shivered with the muffled words he moaned into me.
He sucked my clit and pushed his fingers into me until I came undone. I was still reeling when he came back to my lips, rolling his tongue against mine. He cupped my ass, rubbing and gripping it with large hands while he sucked on my earlobe. Then he repeated the process, coming back to my lips once more. I mentally begged him for release, but it didn’t work. So…I verbalized it.
“Damien, I need you to fuck me right now.”
“Not yet. I’m taking my time.”
“You’re torturing me.”
“I miss how you taste. I plan to sample every part of you.”
He brushed his mouth against mine before trailing kisses over my jaw line. I pushed him away, moving out of his grasp.
“I’m not finished,” he said, lying back on the bed.
I straddled him, bringing my face to his. Even through the darkened curtain of my hair that surrounded us, I could still see his e
yes, glowing bright. “It’s my turn to sample. Although what I have in mind isn’t exactly sample size.”
I travelled down his body, following the same pattern he’d laid out, but I immediately went for the object of my search. I took his long, hard erection in my mouth, managing to slide all the way down, deeper than I’d ever been able to. His mangled grunts rewarded me, encouraging me. His fingers threaded through my hair before he pushed it back to watch me. I tightened my lips on him, letting my tongue graze against his velvet skin with each decadent descent.
“Oh my God, baby. You have to stop. I’m going to come.”
“That’s the idea,” I mumbled, because my mouth was full.
“I want to come inside you,” he pleaded.
“You don’t think I can make it happen again? And again?” I retorted.
He managed a chuckle, but it was hard to tell because his voice strained on the edge of liberation. I sucked his shaft, squeezing his tight balls, tasting the first drops of his release. I lifted my eyes, watching him as he looked down at me.
“Jessie?” We knew each other so well that it was apparent he was asking me a question.
I nodded in response, continuing in a pattern that pleased him. My mouth filled as Damien cried out my name. I waited for him to regain his breath. I wanted him to hear my triumphant swallow. The audible gulp incited another growling grunt from him.
I crawled up his body, wiping my mouth, and dropped my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and tangled his legs with mine.
“Thank you,” he said, after expelling a deep breath.
“For what?”
“For making my dick so happy. It’s been so depressed lately.”
I giggled against his chest.
He ran his finger down one side of my cheek while kissing the other. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
My mind wandered to the photo I’d seen of him in the newspaper. “You’re dating again.”
“I’m dating for the first time,” he admitted.
“We dated.”
He smiled, running his finger across my bottom lip. “No, I fell in love with you, and then I manipulated my way into your life.”
