For long minutes, we sat on the floor in silence. I let all the things she’d said burrow deep and plant seeds of hope back into my heart.
“Are you going to do what I said?” Mila finally asked in a hushed tone.
I nodded.
“I need to hear the words from your mouth that you’re going to talk to someone.”
I nuzzled into her shoulder and sighed. “Okay, I’ll call someone.”
Her arms tightened around me again. “I love you, Monet.”
“I love you too.” She would never know just how much her being there for me meant, but I’d try to find ways to show her.
Mila kissed the top of my head. “You feel better?”
“Can I plan the baby shower?” I changed the topic, wanting something good to focus on.
“I’d be bummed if you didn’t,” she said automatically.
“Can I plan the wedding?” I pushed.
Her entire body stilled, then suddenly, her chest shook with her laughter. “Is this emotional blackmail?”
I sat up and wiped at my eyes. “You deserve a real wedding, Mila. Not something big, just the Lotus House people, us, Atlas’s mom. Maybe some of Atlas’s new friends at work?”
“Would this make you happy, really?” She dipped her head, focusing on my eyes.
“Yeah. Planning a wedding for my best friend would give me something amazing to look forward to.”
She shrugged. “Okay. We were just going to go to the courthouse once you were healed, but a small party couldn’t hurt. I’m talking small. And we pay.”
I opened my mouth to object, but she pressed her finger to my lips.
“We pay. You buy your own maid of honor dress and Lily’s flower girl dress.” Her smile was infectious.
“This is going to be great. Lily will love wearing a frilly dress.” A renewed sense of purpose rippled through my chest and squeezed my heart. My best friend was a goddess.
Mila nodded. “Get her the most obnoxious fairytale dress ever. Frankly, I don’t care as long as she’s in it.”
“Thank you.” I grabbed Mila’s hand.
She stood up and helped me stand. It hurt but didn’t seem so bad with the new plans I had for the future.
“When you slip over the edge, I’m always going to help you climb back up. Same as what you do for me. That’s what best friends are for. Making sure you don’t go completely off the deep end.” She winked and then left me alone in the closet.
I looked down at the pile of dresses on which I’d taken out my rage. One by one, I picked them up and hung them where they were supposed to go. I ran my fingers down the blue summer dress that reminded me of better times.
I fingered the flowing fabric. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to wear you again.”
Mind set on new horizons, I went over to my bedside and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through my business contacts and settled on the one I needed.
The phone rang three times until a cheery voice answered. “Dr. Shelby Batchelor here.”
I smiled, thinking of my sweet friend. We’d gone to college and then medical school together but had gone our separate ways since entering the field of psychiatry. I knew she mostly taught at UC Berkeley but saw clients twice a week to keep her clinical skills fresh.
“Hi, Shelby. It’s Monet. I was wondering if I could make an appointment to see you.”
“Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice, Monet. Would this be for pleasure or business?”
I swallowed, pushed down the anxiety, and laid it out. “This would be personal. I need someone to talk to. Someone objective.”
Once I had the words out, I allowed them to sink in and realized that Mila was right. Just as my clients needed someone to talk to about their trials and tribulations, so did I. Especially now.
This was one step in taking back what my ex stole from me.
* * *
Clayton arrived before the rest of the crew. As usual, his arms were filled with grocery bags.
“Didn’t you get enough yesterday?” I asked, poking my head in.
“Today’s special. I needed some wine for the ladies and some brewskies for the guys. You’re allowed only a little since you’re still taking medication.”
I harrumphed dramatically. “I’ll have you know, I have weened myself off the pain pills. I think that earns me at least two glasses.”
Clayton shoved the bags to the side, gripped both of my hips, and pressed the long length of his body against mine. “Does it? Maybe if that request came with a kiss for your man, he could be persuaded to break the rules, just this once.” His blue eyes blazed with heat, sending a shimmer of arousal through me.
“My man?” I sucked in a quick breath as he invaded my space more fully.
I set my hands on his ribs lightly and then decided against a light touch and went for bold. I held on to his body, which smarted against my healing muscles but was well worth it when he rewarded me with a sexy growl. Clay dipped his head to the curve of my neck and laid a series of long kisses there.
“Yes, your man. Me. The guy who’s been making you dinner every day going on two weeks. The man who’s got the wine.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I giggled, feeling lighter than I had since the accident. He nipped his way up my neck, across my jaw to my lips. His face hovered over mine, our lips barely touching.
“The man who’s been taking care of me.” I inched my lower body closer, allowing the full length of our bodies to touch.
“Fuck yeah, that man is me. Your man,” he reiterated.
My man. It sounded so foreign. “Hmm…time will tell,” I whispered, not wanting to promise too much, even though each day Clayton was indeed making it clear the position he intended to have in my life and in this household.
“Fuck time. You’re mine.” He tunneled a hand into my hair and pressed our lips together.
We kissed hot and heavy like a pair of horny teenagers until the doorbell rang and Lily came screaming through the kitchen bumping into us on her way to let in our guests.
“Showtime.” He dug his hands into my skin.
Clayton jerked his hips against my pelvis, letting me feel exactly what being pressed against him did to his anatomy. “You’re so lucky we have guests,” he said, his voice thick with lust and desire.
“Oh, yeah? If we didn’t, you’d ravish me right here?” I toyed with his belt loop, trying to play coy even though the thought of things moving further excited and scared the hell out of me.
He winked and pushed back. “Something like that.”
“Looking forward to that something,” I quipped with a saucy little sway to my hips, feeling more womanly than I had in months. Clayton brought out a spicy side I didn’t know I had but was starting to connect with more and more as the days went by. Yes, I feared Kyle. The ups and downs of my healing physically and mentally wasn’t fun to deal with, but having Clayton in my life eased that burden. For all of us. Knowing he’d be there every night somehow made it all more bearable. Gave me a stronger motivation to find that peace inside of me. The happy place I’d been in before the attack.
I held the door open as Trent and Genevieve entered, little Will on Trent’s hip. When Trent was home he seemed to always have his son close. He was a good father who took his role seriously, unlike the bastard ex of mine.
“Hey, man, you cooking?” Trent asked Clayton, a hint of hope in his tone.
“Yep. Been doing so every day since Monet came home.”
Genevieve’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “Really? Looks like I have some chatting to do with our friend Moe. Excuse me, guys.” She turned around, her shiny blond hair bopping around her shoulders, her hips swaying. Genevieve was undeniably a lovely woman and a dead ringer for a young Gwen Stefani, complete with platinum hair and bright lips.
“Stop looking at my wife’s ass before I slug you,” Trent growled at Clay as he set a kicking Will down. He was just learning how to walk.
“I can’t help tha
t she has a nice ass, man,” Clayton teased Trent, and I tried not to let their conversation bother me. I knew it was male posturing and bonding, not because Clayton was genuinely interested in Viv.
“Try.” Trent gritted his teeth like the over-possessive man we all knew him to be.
Clay waved a hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry, man. Want a beer?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“I’ll get it,” I said. Clayton nodded.
Genevieve approached me and pulled me into a light hug. “You okay? I mean, I know we’ve talked on the phone, but how are you really doing?”
I squeezed her hand. “I’m good. Really good. Mila, Atlas, and Clay have been taking care of me, and it’s been hard, but…” I sighed. “I’m getting there. Every day is better than the last.”
“I’m so glad. We’ve all been really worried. Hearing that Clay’s on point makes me feel better. He’d never let anything happen to you under his watch.”
I glanced over at the big man while he tended to the snacks and drinks. His smile was wide, and he seemed so at ease in my home. More than that, I was more at ease with him here.
“Yes, I believe you’re right.” I smiled and let her run off after some banging sounds echoed down the hall where the kids were playing. I turned to get a beer for Trent when the doorbell rang. Lily flew from around the corner of her room, running once again. Dash Alexander and his wife, Amber, entered. Amber held a chocolate cake in her hands.
“We brought dessert.” She smiled sweetly, her brown hair falling prettily to both sides of her cheeks.
“No, you brought sex on a plate.” Clayton looked at the dessert as if the triple-layer chocolate decadence was a naked woman ready to be taken. “Looks like a thousand calories in a single slice,” he continued, looking at the treat. “Shit, guess I’ll be doing double time in the gym tomorrow,” he grumbled but licked his lips.
That single bit of tongue peeking out made my heart hammer in my chest. Thinking about Clay at the gym did not help the heat curling up my chest. I waved at my face, not prepared for how hot and bothered he’d been making me lately. I don’t know if it was partly due to the fact that I’d weened myself off the pain pills or his sheer presence every day, or the fact that he kissed and touched me…often. My hormones were on overload, and I wanted a piece of Clayton far more than I wanted a piece of Amber’s decadent cake.
Dash laughed. “Can’t say I never gave you anything. My wife is amazing at everything she does.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “Beer?” I asked Dash, not wanting the tantric yoga god to start talking sex, as he often did. To Dash, a person’s sexuality was always open for commentary. He just couldn’t help himself.
Dash surveyed the counter. “Wine?”
“Pussy,” Clay mumbled before getting the corkscrew and opening a bottle of red he’d bought.
Amber set the cake down and came straight toward me. She pulled me in for a hug and asked me how I was, immediately checking out my neck sutures and confirming the doctor did a great job. I wasn’t ready to show her my back, even though I knew she wanted to see the extent of the injury. The resident in her was always on the surface, but like her husband with sex, she was passionate about what she did—she helped people. I just didn’t want her to focus on it here tonight.
“Hey, Doc, you want a glass of red or white?” Clay asked Amber as she walked over and sat on the couch.
“Same as Dash, please.” She cuddled against her husband’s side.
“Of course,” he deadpanned.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Dash warned and grinned like a loon.
“Believe me. I’m trying.” His gaze slashed to mine and burned with a thousand unspoken words of want and need. My knees weakened at the heat burning in his baby blues.
He continued to stare as I got close. He put a hand on my back. “Genevieve would like a beer. I’ll take the wine though,” I murmured shyly to my guy. My guy. A flush of excitement sprang to my chest.
“Now that’s my wife.” Trent’s chest puffed with pride as Genevieve sidled up to him.
“What?” she asked.
He looked down and kissed her nose. “Nothing, gumdrop. You’re just perfect for me.”
She petted his cheek. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Not possible.” He smiled and kissed her quickly.
My cheeks flamed red-hot when Clay put a proprietary arm around my shoulders. Dash clocked the move right away, lifting his head in approval. Amber’s mouth opened in what was likely shock. Dash’s hand went for her mouth to cover it, but she grabbed his wrist and tucked it to her breasts. He immediately copped a feel.
“No way! Monet, you and Clayton! This is so awesome!” she gushed.
Without realizing it, I stiffened in Clay’s arms. I knew he felt it because he pressed me closer and rubbed at my neck, trying to provide a little comfort to the part of the evening we had to get out of the way. Our friends would eventually find out we were seeing each other, and at least it came from the source and not through the gossip mill.
Clayton spoke, his voice sure and strong. “It’s new,” he hedged. “And now that everyone knows we’re seeing each other, we can move on to other things.”
“Yes, please.” I placed my wine glass in front of the bottle. He poured half a glass, and I lifted my gaze to his and pouted. Clay cocked an eyebrow in response.
I let it go and lifted the glass to my mouth, taking a sip and enjoying the berry notes floating tantalizingly over my tongue. A soft moan left my mouth at the luscious taste. Clayton didn’t miss a beat. He tunneled his hand into my hair and kissed the essence of the wine right from my lips in front of everyone.
When he was done kissing the daylights out of me, I was dazed and probably glassy-eyed, not able to see anything but him.
The couples around us didn’t say a word. Clayton grinned, turned, and tucked me to his side once more, where I planted my face to hide my flaming-hot cheeks.
“How do grilled steaks, potatoes, and salad sound to everyone?” he offered the room.
A round of approved grunts and yummies from the women sliced through the silence. The awkwardness evaporated as he grabbed the steaks, kissed my forehead, and headed to the backyard to fire up the grill and hang out with Mila and Atlas.
We’d survived the uncomfortable moment of each person checking on me and us updating our friends about our new relationship. None of them seemed all that taken by the news, which not only made me feel more secure in my decision to move forward but paved the way for the idea of future barbeques, birthdays, holidays, and more as one big happy group to resonate through my mind. Nothing but love and light seemed to be ahead. One day at a time. Things were starting to fall into place.
Chapter Eight
A heart-centered couple will experience challenges just like any other, but these struggles tend to strengthen their relationship, not weaken it. Each new challenge faced will have their love growing and expanding in time.
CLAYTON
Damn, that woman was going to kill me. Not being able to touch her the way I wanted to, hold her, make love to her. Fuck! I ran my hands through my spikey hair and did some yoga breathing in order to cool my jets.
Soon. I’d have her all to myself soon. I just had to be patient and let this play out. Give her more time to heal. She was just starting to come around. Rushing her more than I had wouldn’t do either of us any favors.
Slow. I’d promised slow, and that was what I’d give her. Besides, it was no hardship to touch, flirt, and kiss Monet Holland. The anticipation of more might be killing me, but it definitely wasn’t a bad way to go.
Heart and head in check, I refilled her wine—another half glass—and grabbed a handful of beers for the crew. We had settled into the formal living room, where Monet had several couches, tables, and low lighting. It was perfect for chilling with so many couples. Atlas and Mila were hanging out on the floor, him plucking at his guitar while she, eyes closed, hummed and
swayed to the rhythm he set. They were perfectly content with one another, and I privately applauded them. They’d stuck with it through thick and thin and had worked out their differences when many would have just gone their separate ways.
Kind of like I did when I met Monet a year ago. The insane attraction was there even then, but my mind was still obliterated by fear. The thought of Monet having a child when my ex, Stacey, had fucked me over so bad had me backtracking fast. At the time, I was frightened of what it might mean to fall for someone who had a child. I’d worried it would bring up the old wounds and anger for what I’d lost out on. So I’d shied away. Out of fear, I had bailed on the budding connection Monet and I had. Now that I’d gotten a taste of Monet and this life, I wanted to shake my earlier self. I could have had this happiness for over a year. A year I’d wasted on bimbos and beers. Working hard and ignoring what I desperately craved…a family. Settling down with the right woman, trying again for a future I had always wanted—one that Stacey had taken away from me so abruptly. That particular sore was still raw. However, Monet eased that ache. The prospect of having Monet and Lily and a future together healed the hole Stacey left in my heart. I knew my feelings for her were coming fast and furious, but I didn’t care. I was a thirty-year-old man who had finally gotten a small nibble of what I wanted, and there was no way in hell I was backing away from it. Not now, not ever. Monet would come around. I’d work toward healing the hurt Kyle left behind and teach her she could trust me.
I surveyed the room, appreciating the chill vibe this crew brought to the space. Not only did it make me feel comfortable, but I welcomed this change in my life. Being surrounded by couples who were settled and moving into their futures together was exactly what I wanted—and hoped I could have with Monet.
I handed Trent a fresh cold one.
“Thanks, man.”
I pointed one toward Genevieve, or Viv, as most of us called her. She shook her head. “I have to drive.”
Keeping my pace, I set a fresh beer on the brick next to the fireplace where Atlas sat. He lifted his head in thanks and kept strumming on his guitar. I clicked my tongue in reply.
Limitless Love: A Lotus House Novel: Book Four Page 11
