by Lexi Whitlow
But I’m still on a high from his touch, and I float back to Brooklyn, just like that.
What would it hurt?
That’s the first in a series of thought that gets me way in over my head.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I’m arranging the barstools, waiting for her to come. She said it would be six, right before we open. And Finn promised me the night off.
For some reason, I’m almost nervous. Not quite nervous. I don’t get nervous, not like that. I know women, and this one is easy to read. We’re casual, a team. In this whole thing for the advantages.
Finn doesn’t especially like my update on the situation. It’s been tough to sell him on his own idea. Whatever, motherfucker. It was a good damn idea. I can’t be held accountable for taking some action for once.
I move the last barstool again, glancing out the window. No sign of Skye yet. I check my phone for a text from her. When I look up, my brother is watching me with the brand of skepticism he reserves for our resident alcoholics who claim they need “just one more drink.”
“Tell me again what you said to her. And explain to me why the hell she’s going along with it.” Finn starts polishing the bar, scraping off specks of dried lime and the sticky sweetness of spilled beer. But he keeps his eyes on me.
“I told her we’d need to move in together. It’s not my plan. It’s your plan, but one step further. If we’re really going after sole custody here, I can’t be living above this shit hole anymore.”
“It’s not a shit hole. You own half the damn bar, Liam.”
“I do. But it’s not the place for a little girl, is it? So, we’re going to look at—”
“You’re a ‘we,’ now?”
I ignore him. “We’re going to look at a few places. Right around here.”
“Yeah, okay,” Finn says, wringing out the towel and wetting it again. “Where the hell are you going to get money for a down payment on an apartment? You’re not making her pay, are you?”
“Fuck no.” I glance down at my phone again and put it in my pocket.
“Then what are you planning to do?”
“I work my ass off here.” I shrug. “I have some saved. Didn’t know what I was saving for, but it could be this.”
“Then why not get an apartment on your own?”
“It’s the appearance of the thing. If I want Brie overnight—and eventually, full time—I can show off my girlfriend with the regular salary. Judges think women pack all the lunches and do all the mom shit. It’s a pillar of my case. After it’s all done, Skye will go back home to Brooklyn. Everyone will be happy.”
“And I’m sure she’ll go quietly, just like you never lured her into your web, drank her blood, and spit her back out?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Finn smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I told you, this one is out of your league. But from the way she looked at you at breakfast yesterday, she doesn’t know that. At least not for sure. All that sob story shit about your kid—”
“That sob story is true.” As is the one about her mother. And her grandmother. And the time I spent away from my baby girl—too long. Years. “And she does want to help me. She’s in it for the sex. She wants to get laid. Have an adventure. Walk on the wild side for once.”
Finn rolls his eyes. “Could be part of it. But it’s not everything. When she moves into that apartment with you and starts sleeping in your bed every night. When Brie is allowed overnight visitation… tell me she won’t fall for you. And tell me she won’t fall for that little girl.”
I think of Brie, pushing her on the swing at the park, higher and higher. She squealed with such laughter. It was a year ago, that time. And it seems like minutes.
There’s an uneasy feeling at the pit of my stomach when I think about Skye and Brie in the same space.
“She’ll love Brie,” I say. “Everyone does. That’s kind of universal. But she’s a—what’s that word when someone is real serious about things—”
“A pragmatist?”
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s a pragmatist. She gets it, like I said. She’s doing me a favor. I’m giving her the time of her life. That’s all. No other strings. After the custody hearing on the 28th, we can end it easily. I’ll be able to keep my life stable for Brie. And Skye can roll back to Brooklyn. She loves it there—loves her life—doesn’t want to be with someone like me. Not for the long term.”
Finn nods and takes a seat on one of the bar stools. Then he taps his chin like he’s thinking. For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me I’m right. That all of this is a rock solid plan. After all, it was his plan—not that he really encouraged me to follow it. But he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all if he didn’t want me to consider it. But then I see the look in his eyes.
“You’re full of shit, Liam. You always have been. Especially when it comes to women.”
“We’re opening soon. I don’t have time for this,” I say. One of his speeches again—I can’t fucking stand this shit. Since I got out of prison, it’s been one every other week or so, on average. Sometimes more. I put my head down and start checking the bottles of liquor, seeing if we have enough on hand for our regulars.
“I’m just warning you. This girl—I saw the way she looked at you. I never should have said a damn thing to you about your court case. It was irresponsible. I should have known you would take it too seriously. It was just a joke—”
I look up at him, my big brother. “It was a damn good idea, Finn. Last week this time, I didn’t have a shot in hell. There wasn’t even a reason to try and find a new place for Brie. Now, I’ve got Skye on it.”
Finn saunters over to the door and flips the sign that tells customers we’re open. “Skye’s ‘on it?’ She got more than she bargained for, didn’t she?” Finn turns to me and crosses his arms. “She’s actually looking for an apartment for you.” He says it as a statement of fact, not a question.
“Yeah, she said she would. What’s so bad about that?” I feel my body taking a defensive posture, like it used to when I was in prison. When the guys from the yard would take the same posture. A constant dick-measuring contest for six months. I’m not this person—and especially not with Finn.
And I shouldn’t be with Skye either.
“Nothing.” Finn shrugs. “If you’re in a relationship with someone. Sounds like relationship shit to me. Sounds like it has the potential to blow up in your face.”
“It probably will,” I say. “But she’s smart enough to know that.”
Just then, I see a figure standing outside of Dougherty’s. I can tell from the way her hair falls across her face that it’s Skye. Warmth spreads in my chest, and it feels like there’s something opening inside of me when she pushes on the door and looks inside. “Liam?”
Her voice sounds even huskier than it did three nights ago. Sexier. The image of her, coming for me. My cock stirs, bulge rising against my jeans. I put down the bottle I have in my hand and turn to her, an almost automatic reaction, like I don’t quite know what I’m doing.
Finn holds the door open for her and doesn’t say anything. There’s plenty he could say—to defame me, to encourage her to stay away. He looks for a second like he might say something. I wouldn’t blame him. There’s a little girl at the center of all of this, and she’s a Dougherty too. We’re both trying to protect her, in our way. Skye is part of that plan for me—and she knows it.
Finn doesn’t trust what I’m doing. But he’s uncle, not father. I know best. And when I see Skye after an absence of two days, I know she’s right. She’s good, and honest, and pure. All the things I’m not and never have been. A judge will see that—she’ll make me those things by extension. That’s how good she is.
She looks between Finn and me and tucks her hair behind her ear like she’s shy. “I found a couple of places. We can look at them tomorrow. Or I can choose one—”
I walk over to her, closing the space between us. I take her into my arms and kiss her hard, my
tongue finding hers. “I have other plans for the morning,” I say.
Finn waves and walks back to the door. “Don’t fuck up, Liam. Whatever that means to you.” When he locks it behind him, he looks back at me through the glass and shakes his head. I flick him off while I’m still kissing Skye.
When I pull away, Skye is breathless. “I didn’t think—I didn’t know if it was going to be like this.”
“Like what?” I slip my hands under her shirt and lift her onto one of the bar stools. My fingers are already rising to her bra, unsnapping it, letting her breasts fall free. She gives a little sigh that makes my cock stiffer than it was before.
“Like this,” she says. When she speaks, there’s a little moan in her voice.
Her hand finds my cock, long fingers stroking it through my jeans.
“Let’s take this upstairs,” I say. She looks around, eyes hooded with lust, looking to see if anyone is passing by on the street. If anyone can see that my hands are all over her body, that her bra is falling free, and the strap of her shirt is hanging from one shoulder.
I grab her hand, and we run upstairs to my rickety old apartment. We’re both laughing—it’s a feeling I haven’t had in years. Like we’re teenagers, hoping not to get caught. But there’s no one waiting to catch us. And she’s all mine.
I push the bad things away from my mind—the losses and failures, all the women who came before.
I pull her clothes off, and they land on the floor in a silky puddle. Her body is timid, a bit shy, and a blush rises over her chest and cheeks, turning her body the perfect shade of pink. Pulling her close, I bring my mouth to her shoulder, kissing her there. She looks up at me, and I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her chaste, white panties.
“These really need to come off.”
“You’re not going to—we’re not—are we—”
“You mean—” I pull down her panties, and they fall to her feet. She shivers and bites her lip nervously. “Am I going to fuck you? I don’t know. Do you want me to?”
“I think maybe—I do.” She swallows hard, like she’s nervous again. My cock strains against my jeans, almost painfully. “But after that—” She stops.
“After that what?” I bring my hand to my jeans and unbuckle myself. The thought of fucking her, taking her virginity, right here, right now—it creates a nearly painful tightness in my center.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
I pull my shirt off and bring her naked body to mine. “Tell me,” I say. “This won’t work if you keep shit from me.”
She gives me a sharp laugh. “Okay—wait—like you not telling me I’m supposed to be your fake girlfriend or find you an apartment?”
“That’s not the same,” I answer quickly. “I was planning to reveal that information when the time came.” I brush her hair aside. “So you need to tell me what it is you think is happening here. Why you’re scared.”
“I told you,” she says defensively. “My ex—he made me feel like shit. Being with you is…” Her voice drifts off, and I bury my face in her hair. I haven’t done that in a long time. The scent of her is vaguely tropical, like flowers and coconut. I let her rest her head against my chest, even though my desire pulses through me in ever-increasing waves.
“It’s scary,” she says finally. “After this, we’re done, right?”
That idea hangs in the air between us. “No,” I reply. “I need you to be here, to live with me. For the courts. The judge. All that.”
It’s a shitty, lame response, and she knows it. She’s quiet, her head nestle against my shoulder. God help me, it feels right, like we ought to be here, right now, in this mess together.
“Okay. That’s what you said before. It makes sense. It all does.”
I tilt her face towards mine and kiss her lips softly. That mere action makes my cock harder than steel—the soft, pillowy sweetness of her lips, her eyes dewy with emotion. In this moment, I want her as much as I’ve ever wanted anything. I want to own her, destroy her, make her mine.
I want to tell her these things, but the words don’t come. They’re stuck, somehow. It seems like a vast, echoing expanse of time since I felt like that about someone. And when I did feel that way, it was only fleeting. With Tabitha, we were high a lot of the time in the beginning. After Brie was born, we were clean for the years of her early childhood, but we were always fighting. Tabitha was always leaving, disappearing for days, and I was learning to be a dad in the ultimate trial by fire. The only happy times were in the very beginning, and that all exists in my memory in a cloud of cocaine dust and crushed pills, and needles, later on. Our love was a tainted one.
Standing here, looking down into this sweet girl’s face, I know that I can’t let go and tell her these things, even if it’s what she wants to hear.
I can give her sex, and she can help me build a safe harbor for my daughter. If she’s looking for something more than that, she should wait for someone better. Someone more equipped to do all the normal things she needs.
I can give her adventure, maybe. Pleasure. Beyond that, I only have capacity to care for Brie. And I’ll have to dedicate myself to that.
Instead of saying anything, I kiss her again and carry her to the bedroom, slipping out of my jeans.
“We can see the rentals tomorrow,” I say. “There’s plenty of time.”
She nods, still looking at me with her head cocked to one side, eyes wary and searching. “Yeah. I think that’s fine.”
“I’m not getting rid of you, Skye,” I say. “If this is too much for you—” I let my words trail off because the truth is that I need her here. I might have succeeded on my own, but she makes the whole thing seem more real—and she makes me feel like I might have a chance to be a real father again.
“It’s not.” She puts out her hand and catches mine in hers, and she pulls me towards her.
When I fall onto the bed next to her, she pulls at the waist of my boxers. I grab her hand and shake my head. “What I can do is make your first time planned. Make it special. Like you deserve.”
“And tonight?” She bites her lower lip again.
“I can make you come. Make sure you fall asleep with your legs shaking. Make sure you wake up sore.”
She smiles at that, and I lie down next to her, running my hand over the planes and curves of her delicate body. I spread her legs apart on the bed and explore her wetness with my hand, observing her jolts and sighs. My fingers slip inside of her with ease, and my thumb finds her clit, circling it. Her body tenses and releases as she draws closer to the edge. I bring my mouth to her nipples, one after the other. My mouth trails over her smooth skin to the dark thatch between her legs, darting my tongue in and out, tasting her. Soon, my fingers and mouth are working in tandem as she writhes beneath me.
“Liam,” she moans. She repeats my name like it’s a mantra, a prayer. With each utterance, I grow harder. I swirl my tongue over her clit and then down to her slick folds, where I remove my fingers. Slipping my tongue inside of her, I take in her essence, sharp and sweet. Skye’s body shudders beneath me, and I can tell she’s close to letting go. Her fingers find my hair, pulling it hard. She cries out, and I bring my tongue back to her clit, sucking it into my mouth, pulling gently. Her legs shake and she lets out a deep, animal groan as she comes for me, saying my name still, over and over. I don’t pull away until she comes again, quickly on the heels of the first orgasm.
When I move next to her on the bed, her eyes are still filled with need.
“Can’t we—” Her gaze communicate exactly what she wants.
“No, not tonight,” I say. “But soon.”
Very soon, I think. She nestles in beside me and drifts off to sleep. Why am I holding out? I’ve never held on like this. But there’s something about Skye that makes me want to make this moment last, keep it going until the bitter end.
It’s a shame that we’re running against the clock, that there’s an end in sight.
This is one thing I
can stretch out.
And there’s lots of ways to make sure the time in between is really fucking good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It’s in Queens,” he says. The sound in his voice is not good when he says it. “I live in Manhattan. I’ve always lived in Manhattan.”
I give him a look, and the Lyft driver looks in his rear view mirror between the two of us. The driver, thankfully, doesn’t add his opinion on Queens.
“I haven’t even met Brie yet, and I know that the Catholic school she’s going to is in Queens. If you want her to have a forty-five minute commute—”
“Wouldn’t be that long,” he says curtly. But he sighs right after he says it. “Maybe forty minutes. I could drive her there.”
“You have a car? Why the hell do you have a car? No one in Manhattan has a car.”
“I do. It works most of the time. I used to drive it out to the mountains in the fall.”
“Okay. Whatever. Regardless of how well your car works—”
“It works,” he says. “Well enough that we don’t have to live in Queens. It’s almost as bad as Brooklyn.”
The Lyft driver rolls his eyes, and I’m glad Liam doesn’t see it.
“Liam,” I say, turning my body towards his. I try not to think about the way his hands feel on me, the way he can look at me and convince me to do just about anything. If I actually want to help him, this is one thing he has to understand. “If you want the court to actually take you seriously, you need to move somewhere that Brie knows. The place where her friends live. I’m not a social worker, but Rhiannon is, and she gave me the run down. Judges are looking for a good faith effort on the parent’s part, especially if that parent did some time.”
His hazel eyes shift and change. He looks away. “Yeah,” he says. There’s a long pause. “Who says I want her at that school? Public school system was good enough for me.”
“She’s not there right now, and it’s the middle of the year. If she’s going to live with you, she needs an easy transition. Like I said, a good faith effort. That’s what Rhiannon called it.” I think for a second, looking over at Liam. His long, muscular body stretches out over the seat of the car, his knees hitting the back of the passenger side seat. “You’re making an effort. They’ll see that.”
