Broken Love Story

by Madison, Natasha

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Samantha

  I’m lying on my stomach, my hands bent and under me when I feel soft kisses on my shoulder. Last night was hands down one of the best nights I’ve ever had. I moan as I stretch, feeling my body ache. I don’t think we slept more than an hour without waking up to feel each other. I woke up once with his mouth between my legs only to be flipped over and taken like that. I obviously had to one-up him, so he once woke up with me sliding down his cock. His hands gripped my hips so tight I might have his finger marks on me. Which makes me smile into the pillow.

  “Morning,” he whispers from beside me, and I feel his hardness on my back, so I moan and arch my back up a little. His hand cups my breast as he rolls the nipple. He doesn’t say anything else; we don’t need words as he slides back into me. His mouth on my neck, he fills me over and over again. “Fuck,” he says right when we both come together.

  “I need a shower,” I say once I can get my breathing under control.

  “Oh, I can come and wash your back,” he says, laughing, and we walk to the shower together. Ninety minutes later, I sit at the table, my wet hair piled on my head, wearing his huge robe while he stands in the kitchen in his shorts making me breakfast. “You’re looking good there, Mr. Williams,” I say, hiding my smile behind my cup of coffee. He turns and looks over his shoulder with a smirk.

  “I need food to keep up with you.” He laughs, and I just roll my eyes as the front door opens.

  “Hello? Anyone home?” I hear Joanne as the girls come running into the room.

  “Mommy!” They both run to me as I open my arms to them.

  “Well, hello there.” I kiss them both on the head as I have one arm wrapped around each.

  “Sorry,” Joanne says, coming into the kitchen. “I tried to stall them as much as I could.”

  I shake my head and smile at her. She looks exhausted. “That’s more than okay. How was last night?”

  “It was so much fun,” Daisy says. “Henry snores.”

  We all laugh. “Does he?”

  “Yup,” Daisy says, grabbing a piece of toast that Blake put down. He leans down, kissing the girls’ head.

  “Did you guys sleep at all?” he asks the girls who now go sit on one of the chairs.

  “They slept fine. I, on the other hand, was so worried,” Joanne says. “I just had this fear they would wake up and wander.”

  “Well, thank you,” I tell her, “for everything.”

  “Where is Dad?” Blake asks her.

  “He’s taking the tent down,” she says. “Would you guys like to come over for dinner?” she asks us, and Blake just looks at me while Lizzie and Daisy both answer. “Yes.”

  “Only if it isn’t too much trouble,” I tell her as she just looks at me and smiles.

  “Never,” she says. “Now I’m going home to bake a pie.” She walks out, waving back to us.

  “I’m going to lie down in my room,” Lizzie says, walking to her room, and I snap up and look at Blake to see if he caught that. He just smirks as he puts some eggs on my plate.

  “Eat,” he says, bending to kiss me as I smile. “Daisy, you hungry?” He looks over at her, and she shakes her head.

  “I’m going to my room too,” she says, walking away from the table.

  “The kids seemed to be settled,” Blake says, sitting next to me. Taking my fork, I grab some eggs and put it on my toast. “I like it.”

  I chew, looking at him. “Yeah?” I lean over to kiss him, brushing my thumb on his lips before I do. “I love you,” I tell him, and he smiles the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him, and the smile remains until we load our car to go home.

  He kisses the girls goodbye, and they mope to the car. He puts his hand in my hair, cupping my face. “You call me when you get in. I have work, so if I don’t answer, text me.” He kisses my lips soft, ever so fucking soft.

  “I will,” I tell him and then get into the car and start driving home. The whole time, my heart is sad that I won’t be sleeping in his arms, sad that I won’t wake up to his smile, sad that the time just goes so fucking fast. “Did you guys have fun?” I ask them when I lower the volume of the movie they are watching.

  “Yeah,” Lizzie says. “I don’t want to go home.”

  I look ahead. “But it’s our home.” No one says anything, so I continue, “What would you guys think about moving?”

  “I want to,” Daisy says.

  “But you have all your friends at school and Grandpa and Grandma.”

  “I made new friends,” she informs me.

  “Did you?” I ask her, confused. “When?”

  “Nanny took us to the park to play, and we made five friends.” She holds up her hand with her fingers separated. She always chooses the number five so she can hold up her fingers.

  “Yeah,” Lizzie says. “Besides, I don’t want to see Grandma and Grandpa or Uncle Elliot.”

  “Honey,” I start, “they love you.”

  “But they don’t love you,” she says, looking out the window, and I drop the subject for a later date.

  We get home, walking in and seeing the balloons still here but floating halfway. “Okay, girls, unpack your bags and put everything in the wash,” I tell them as they walk up the stairs, dragging their bags behind them. I walk into the kitchen to open the shades and then the window to let some fresh air in. I take my phone out and call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. “I’m home,” I tell him and then grab ingredients from the fridge to start dinner. I don’t want to be here; I hate being here.

  We sit for dinner, and the girls are not themselves. Gone are the chatty girls, and in there place is Daisy, who said my cooking was boring, and Lizzie, who pushed the food around her plate. “Can we go back to Blake’s next weekend?” she asks, looking up.

  “I’m sure we could ask. I think he is off.” I know he’s off because he refused to pack my bag to go home, saying I was just coming back anyway.

  The week drags by, and the girls participate in our FaceTime conversations in the morning and at supper. We set him up on the table, and we tell him all about our day. The only time the girls perk up is on Thursday when they know we are leaving to go to Blake’s after school since they have no school on Friday.

  As soon as we get there, Blake is sitting on the steps outside waiting for us. The kids are excited, yelling his name. He opens Daisy’s door first and takes her out, hugging her in his strong arms. He puts her down to hug Lizzie next, and they both walk inside to put their bags in “their” room. He doesn’t even blink an eye before grabbing my face and kissing me. “I missed you so much,” he says.

  He kisses me until I run out of breath. “I missed you too,” I say as he puts his arm around my shoulder, and we walk inside.

  The weekend just cements that this is where we are meant to be, especially after dinner on Friday night when Blake sits at the table and says, “So happy my girls are finally home.”

  When the kids learn that he works the next weekend, their faces drop, but he tells them they have to come anyway so he can have dinner with them. When the weekend comes to an end, we again make our way home, but this time, it’s Lizzie who starts the talk. “If we move to Blake’s house, can I bring my bed and desk?”

  “Um,” I say, looking in the rearview mirror while Daisy tells us that she doesn’t want her small bed, she wants Blake’s big one. We continue the back and forth for over a month, and each time, the girls bring more and more of their stuff. I don’t bring up moving in with Blake until one night he plays hardball.

  “Move in with me,” he says as he enters me in one thrust, a moan coming out of us. The kids are staying at his parents’ house, so we can make as much noise as we want. I raise my hips when he thrusts in again and again. He pushes back on his knees, putting one of my legs on his shoulder and going so deep my eyes roll in the back of my head. “Move in with me,” he says, slamming into me harder and harder.

  “Please,” I beg him. I’m about t
o come when he pulls out of me, and I groan in frustration.

  “Move in with me,” he says and bangs into me. He brings me to the edge again only to stop right before I come.

  “Blake,” I say, grabbing his ass and trying to push him back inside me.

  “Move in with me,” he says, entering me again. “Wake up with me.” He presses in again, lifting my hips to get him into me. “Cook with me.” His cock rubs against my G-spot. “Please.”

  “Okay,” I say, looking at him, in his eyes, and he smiles and finally lets me come as he follows me right off that cliff.

  The next morning when we pick up the kids, we ask them to sit down at the table. I have no idea how I’m going to start this conversation, and I don’t have to because Blake takes the lead. “Girls, how would you like to live here,” he asks them, “like all the time?”

  He looks at Lizzie and then at Daisy, who claps her hands together with glee. Lizzie just smiles at him as she nods.

  We ride back home this time, knowing we’ll soon be moving. I call Elliot over the next day.

  “Hey,” I say when I open the door. “Come in.”

  “Hey, are the girls here?” he asks, and I call them down. Daisy is excited to see him; Lizzie is standoffish and takes Daisy upstairs after a while. “They look good,” he says, sitting on the couch.

  “They really are good,” I tell him as I sit down on the couch, facing him. “I called you over to let you know that we’re moving.”

  “What?” he says in shock, looking at me.

  “This isn’t our home anymore,” I tell him.

  “Is this about Blake?” he asks.

  “No”—I shake my head—“this is about us not being comfortable here. Us not being happy here.”

  “Do you really love him?” He leans forward, putting his arms on his knees.

  “With everything that I am.” I don’t even try to lie.

  “Eric knew,” he says softly as I look at him. “He knew my father had a double life.”

  “What?” I ask. “How do you know?”

  “Well, after we left court, my father came clean. Lucille was his high school sweetheart. They drifted apart and bumped into each other again by chance. Ethan was just born, and well, he felt like my mother put him on the back burner, so he got his attention somewhere else.”

  “I can’t even,” I tell him.

  “Well, one day Eric found a picture of him with his other two kids, and he knew they were his because the resemblance couldn’t be denied. So the next time he went out of town, he followed him, and that’s when he ran into Hailey, and well, you know the rest.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I tell him. “It’s time for us to all move on. Your parents own this house, according to the papers my lawyer has, so you can inform them that I’ll be moving out in the next two weeks.”

  “What about the kids? Will you stop us from seeing them?”

  “Never,” I answer him, “but it is their decision if they want to see you or not. You hurt them. Daisy not so much, but Lizzie …” I shake my head. “You were her uncle, and she thought you were on her side, no matter what.”

  “I am,” he says.

  “No”—I put my lips together—“you weren’t. When she needed someone to stick up for her, you didn’t. Instead of fighting to keep her with me, you didn’t even try to stop the shit that was happening,”

  “They’re my parents,” he tells me.

  “She is your niece, and you just disappeared. You stopped coming, you stopped calling, it just fucking stopped. She lost her father and you.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I forgive you, but the damage is done.” I get up. “I won’t stop you from seeing her or calling, but I will not force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

  He gets up and nods. “I’ll make an effort,” he promises, and I just nod and then go up and start packing my boxes.

  Epilogue One

  Samantha

  One Month Later

  “Let’s go, girls,” Blake says, walking out of our bedroom down the hallway while putting on his shirt. I stand in the kitchen with my hip against the counter, watching him. “Morning.” He comes to me, kissing my lips. “Stop looking at me like that,” he whispers into my ear and kisses my neck.

  “Like what?” I ask him, hiding my smile.

  “Like you’re Sylvester the cat, and I’m the bird.” He smiles, turning when he hears the girls coming into the room. “You guys have your lunch boxes?” He grabs his keys. “Lizzie, you have your assignment?”

  “Yup,” she says, coming to me and giving me a kiss. “You think I can go to Kiera’s house after school for a sleepover?”

  We’ve been here for two weeks, and it feels like we’ve been here forever. Our stuff is mixed with his, so it’s our home. The girls made their rooms theirs, with little knickknacks, and of course, Nanny took them to Target where they went overboard. I smile because everyone around them showers my kids with unconditional love. They aren’t used as pawns on a chess board; they are just loved for them.

  And Blake, to say he is over the moon excited is an understatement. He drives the kids to school every morning when he is home even though they have buses. “It’s our time,” he says, and the girls love it. I walk to the front door to wave my hand at them as the car pulls out of the driveway, then go back inside to clean up from our breakfast. I look in the living room, the picture of Frankie and Blake sits next to the picture of Eric, me, and the kids. Both of them sitting next to a picture that Nanny took when we moved in. Blake has his arm around my shoulder while he holds Daisy in his arms, and Lizzie stands in the middle of us. The smile on everyone’s face making our eyes crinkle.

  I turn the music on while I walk to the table, picking up the plates; another thing when Blake is home—breakfast is a free-for-all. He would make the kids homemade waffles if they wanted, and he does it with a smile. When he works, the girls and I go by the station and have dinner with him every single night unless he’s on a call.

  I mean, it’s not all smooth sailing. We fight now or, better yet, we argue. One of the arguments is me paying rent or paying for groceries. Well, that was a big one, ending with me slamming his bedroom door. It also was right before he came into the room and made love to me, telling me how he wanted to take care of me.

  So I did what any independent woman did, I gave him the idea that I would let him take care of me, without letting him know it wasn’t going to be like that. I think he notices when I buy something for the house, or when he comes back from work and the refrigerator is stocked. He looks over at me but never says anything.

  We also do things as a family, mostly after dinner—we take walks to the park or just around the neighborhood. His hand in mine as my girls walk in front of us. With no weight on my shoulders, I couldn’t ask for anything else in the world.

  I’m so lost in my train of thought I don’t hear the phone ringing. I pick it up, not recognizing the number. “Is this Samantha?” the woman asks on the other line.

  “Yes, this is she.” I walk to the radio, turning it off so I can hear her.

  “My name is Elaine Locke, and I’m calling from Child Protection Services.” My heart stops, and my neck gets hot. I hold the counter because I’m sure my knees will give out. “I got your name last week from a Mr. Blake Williams when we were called out for a fire at one of our foster homes.” Relief lifts off my shoulders. “He mentioned that you just moved into town and had a background in social work.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked. “Um, yes, that’s right.”

  “Well, we are always understaffed, and we are looking for a part-time social worker. The hours are very flexible, the pay”—she stops talking and then starts again—“it isn’t much.”

  “I …” I don’t know what to say.

  “Listen, I would love for you to come in, and we can maybe sit down and talk.”

  “That would be wonderful,” I tell
her as I wipe tears from the corner of my eyes. “When would you like to meet?”

  “How is next Monday at nine a.m.?” she asks, and I take her address right away. We disconnect as soon as Blake walks into the house.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, stopping in his tracks. His back straightens on alert when he sees that my nose is red, and I have tears in my eyes.

  “I just got off the phone with Elaine,” I tell him, and he walks to the kitchen.

  “Oh, yeah,” he says, grabbing a coffee cup and pouring the last of the coffee. “I met her last week and gave her your phone number.”

  “Well, I have a meeting with her on Monday. For a part-time position.”

  He leans back on the counter, crossing his feet at his ankles while he looks at me. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think I would be able to find it,” I tell him quietly. “You”—I shake my head—“you give me everything.”

  “I just gave her your name. You have to do the interview,” he tells me, putting his cup down. “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?” I smile and shrug my shoulders.

  “You’re giving me that look again,” he says, coming to me.

  “I like it,” he says to me. “I’ll like it even more when my cock is inside you.” He grabs me around the waist and carries me to our room, where he fucks me the whole time.

  Four days later, I walk out of Elaine’s office with a smile I can’t wipe off my face. I walk to the car, and after getting in, I finally shout with glee. I call Blake right away. “Hey,” I say before he can say anything. “I got the job,” I tell him, bouncing in the driver’s seat. “I start next Monday.”

  “They are lucky to have you,” he finally says softly. “How about we go down to the beach this weekend to celebrate?”

  Hailey and Jensen came down last weekend to introduce Mila to her parents. It started a little awkward, but once we got over that hump, it was a great weekend.

  Mila and Daisy were like two peas in a pod, with Lizzie making sure they didn’t get in trouble, which was quite often. It didn’t help that Henry gave them whatever they wanted.