by D. M. Burns
“Another question for you…” She nods her head and I feel that motion on my chest. I mindlessly twirl a lock of her hair around my fingers. “Do you have any more bad dreams?”
This is something that has been nagging at my subconscious nonstop. The more I ignore it or pretend it doesn’t mean anything, the more intense and un-nerving my gut instincts become. Like a dangerous villain waiting to be seen lurking around a dark corner. Even though it’s just out of sight you know it’s there.
I’ve been unable to see any visions from Brea since the night I first took her to my penthouse. The night I took her to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller. The night that everything took a turn and ended in devastation in a matter of a few seconds.
“None.” She draws faint lines on my chest then pats my washboard stomach propping her chin on my chest. “You want children one day, right?” Oh, fuck…. I roll her onto her back. This is where shit will get tricky.
“Butterfly, I have no doubt that you’d be an extremely amazing mom…” Her brows scrunch up in confusion and those royal blue gems bounce between mine.
“You’ll make a great dad too, Brogan.” She whispers. “You’ll be an amazing father.”
Brea believes that shit too, one hundred percent. Her eyes hold endless possibilities when she looks at me. My heart expands with the way she takes me in as if I’m a God incapable of flaws. She strokes her hand across my face and those bright blues seem to be drowning in love and want. Make no mistake, I’ll gladly give her anything, except that. Hell, I’d turn my checking account over to her with a smile if she wanted it. And that fucking bank is nothing to turn your nose up at, but a child equals a death sentence to what I love the most, her. Fuck that.
Truth be known, I wasn’t opposed to having children with Brea, only her. Hell, I’ve thought of it a lot more than I’m willing to admit. Especially after seeing her dreams. That little boy with her blonde curls has appeared in my thoughts and random daydreams on repeat. He’s the little kid etched out on the wall of my cave, where he’ll stay as a figment of my imagination. Here’s the thing, I’d rather live my entire life without a child as long as I get to keep this woman.
There’s no way my heart could ever conjure up love for anything or anyone that’d take this butterfly away from me. She’s the only thing I’ve ever loved with this kind of intensity coursing through my veins. If anyone ever dared to fuck with that my hate would supersede any other emotion. My child be damned. I’d be the worst kind of evil set to destroy the world around me without her, period.
I knew she wanted kids. A woman like Brea is meant to pass her love on. But like I’ve said before, I’m a selfish motherfucker. My desire to have her and keep her outweighs everything. If I’d walk away, she could have that life with another but no. Knowing what I’m about to do will surely break her heart, I’m prepared to live a lifetime with her repairing the damage this is sure to do. At least we’ll have each other during the process.
As appreciative as I am to my mother and father for choosing to give me life, living without Brea is a condemned death sentence for me. One that I won’t repeat, ever. Our love won’t have the same fate as my parents, no. Not fucking happening.
I shake my head slowly no.
“Why…? I mean, uhm, can you not have babies?” She asks. Her brows slightly crease waiting for my answer.
“I don’t want them, Southern Comfort. Ever.” I keep my voice stern. “We’ll have to be enough, baby. You and I...” I swallow and rub my nose over hers as she simply stares at me. She swallows hard and nods her head marginally conveying understanding when that’s the furthest thing from how she feels right now.
“But the little boy on the cave.” She points in that direction but never takes her eyes off me.
“That’s an image, Brea. A dream and nothing more, yeah. Kids are a hard limit and I want nothing to do with that concept, period.”
“Uhm, well… Are you sure?” Her voice is hardly above a whisper. And again, I nod my head.
She looks to the side searching for a solution to the problem that my declaration has brought down on what her heart genuinely wants. I’m a selfish bastard. I don’t need to read her to know what’s circulating in that beautiful mind. When she looks back to me, she’s reaching for anything, little nibbles of hope.
“You don’t think you’ll ever maybe… Uhm… You know… Down the road, possibly change your mind.” Fuck no. I’ll never lose you. I shake my head slowly no. “Is it me?” She whispers out and tears fill her eyes. YES! I’ll never fucking lose you…
“Oh shit, Southern Comfort…” I push up, bringing her with me in my arms while hugging her to me. “Christ, baby… No. Listen, my decision has nothing to do with you. Kids will never fit into my world, ever. This is my sacrifice and it’s not one that I want to force upon you but it’s one that I deemed necessary long ago for my way of life.” I’m not sure why I’m lying to her about this but I am.
“But it’s our life now, right?” She looks back at me. Her eyes are bouncing between mine and god damnit. I knew this would be hard but seeing this play out through her expressive eyes is like a kick to the nut sack. “Maybe one day you’ll change your mind. You never really know how you’ll feel a few years from now, Brogan.” A tear trickles down her face and I thumb it to the side, out of the way.
“No, butterfly. I’ll never change my mind about this. Is this a deal-breaker for you?” My voice is strained as I wait for her to decide. Fuck, please let her get past this because living without her is my god damn hard limit.
She gulps down more tears and looks away from me taking my words in. Letting them seep into her heart. The damage they’re doing on her soul is something I can see taking place. It’s like euphemizing a small animal and laying it to rest.
“Uhm, okay… We’ll figure it out.” Her voice is barely heard. A painful whisper pushed out or her lungs.
No, there won’t be any working this out. This is concreted and I hate it has to be this way, but she needs to understand and accept this. I feel like we’re already walking on a thin layer of ice by flipping off the visionary God’s of doomed relationships. I’m not going to add injury to that insult. I’m blessed beyond measure to have her. I don’t need anything else but her.
“Baby… There’s no working that one out. I don’t want kids and that won’t ever change. I’m so sorry.” She looks up at me and all the excitement from our engagement is now gone. Shit… I swipe my hand across my jaw then cup her face in my hands. Panic is drowning me under here, bottom of the ocean floor. I can’t lose her. “But I promise you this, I’ll live every day of my life for you. Making you happy, loving you, and building a beautiful life together-me and you. Brea, I swear to Christ, you won’t regret choosing me.” She closes her eyes and tears breakaway at the borders from that action and I swipe at them right before kissing her softly.
“Uhm, I’ve always wanted children, Brogan… But I don’t understand though, your heart is so beautiful. We have a lot to offer to a family. I just never knew you felt this way.” She breathes into my neck as I hold her to me. I’m not offering her up for anything in this world, period. “It’s okay. I’m fine… It’ll be okay, Brogan. Uhm, I’m just a little surprised. Wow, uhmmm.” She’s struggling just like I knew she would. Shit.
“This life in the public eye is not something I wish on anyone let alone want to bring a baby into. You know what it’s like… I didn’t want this for you, but I’m not capable of letting you go though.”
“Sure… I understand. Okay. I’ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to this. Uhm, I pictured things differently. All my life I’ve dreamt of a family with children. It’ll just be a modification, that’s all.” She tries to smile but it’s an epic fail.
“Am I enough for you, butterfly?” I ask.
Her bright blue pools search my face and for the first time, I hear her mouth brush out the word that her thoughts convey is nothing short of a lie.
“Always.”
chapter 21
brealyn
“I wonder if your girl has shanked Channing yet?” Brogan turns his head slightly and smirks at me as we walk through the French doors that lead into the common area by the pool.
“LADY… Hey… Crazy lady… You better not throw that at me.” Channing’s voice sounds mildly irritated. “C’mon… It’s the last one, damnit.”
“What the ever-loving heck?” I whisper out in shock.
Eye’s wide, I slowly turn my head to Brogan, and his smile is manic. Well, my reaction is shock, but Brogan’s is pure optimism for the possibility of evil doings to come for his brother. When we round the corner, Brogan leans into one of the large pillars pulling my back into his chest while wrapping his arms around my waist.
My eyes bounce between Tam and Channing in a standoff of some sort. Channing is banked out on one side of the island, arms braced in a pose that leads me to believe that he’s about ready to jump across the barrier and tackle her. His white swim short covered body is still dripping from a poolside presence. Tamera is on the other side of the island in nothing more than her turquoise two-piece bathing suit, wet jet-black hair framing her face in slices, holding what looks like a strawberry cupcake hostage in her hand. That said hand is cocked back ready to fire it out at Channing’s forehead.
If I’m clocking the strawberry decorated walls around me right, it’d seem that Tam has already laid waste to several cupcakes. The smashed blob on the wall and upside-down cake fatality on the floor is proof of such. I can feel Brogan’s silent laughter vibrate against my back as we watch this crap play out.
“No one asked for your opinion or for you to follow right behind me. Normally when someone gets up and walks away it’s because they want to GET THE HELL AWAY from you, Creed number two. Go back outside to the damn pool and leave me alone. I’ll find my way over to the indoor pool getting the much-needed distance from you.”
“You're seriously pissed off because I suggested that your problem with the opposite sex is your mouth. Well, it wasn’t really a suggestion. That’s a GOD DAMN FACT LADY.” Channing tilts his head at her like this is a safe topic. Is he delusional? Jesus…
“This is going to be some good shit right here.” Brogan pulls his cell out of his pocket and starts to record the show.
“I can’t believe he said that to her.” I murmur out in horror.
“Why are YOU single, asshole? Riddle me that.” Tam is a scary shade of red. She props her free hand on her hip and narrows her eyes at him. When Channing opens his mouth to respond, Tam cuts him off. “Rhetorical question, moron. I already know that answer. Because you’re too busy trailing behind the baby brother’s babe that’s evidently handling his workload in and out of the bedroom.” She quirks her brow and smiles that smile that clearly states BURN BITCH. Channing chuckles as if her statement is nothing but of comedic value.
“She’s got him there.” Brogan’s laughter breezes out across my neck while he zooms in on the show but my mouth gapes open in horror.
“Oh, no. That was harsh. We need to break this up, honey.” I whisper.
“Nope, let’s see where this goes.” Brogan’s hold tightens around me.
“To the nearest hospital probably,” I reply.
“I’m going to upload this shit to every social account I have later,” Brogan says.
“You’re an angry individual, you know that, right? How are you and sunshine even compatible? I don’t see it…” Channing says.
“Stop worrying so much about my best friend. Brogan’s got that in check, yeah?” Tam laughs out loud at that apparent word-expressed uppercut to his face.
“If my guess is right, I’d be willing to toss down my fortune on the fact that someone hasn’t CHECKED anything properly with you in a long ass time lady. But I tell you what, since I’m feeling charitable…” Channing pauses and shrugs his shoulders while crossing his arms over his massive chest then continues, “I’ll do you a solid and take care of that dusty vagina for you, you just let me know, yeah?” His head falls back, and the laughter that leaves his chest is echoed throughout the vast space around us.
“You smug asshole.” She growls. Tam is showing fangs and if I’m not mistaken, I see the makings of devil horns growing from each side of her head.
“No-no, not smug…” He wiggles his finger at her from across the island then says, “Confident in the fact that I can fix your perpetual resting bitchface turning it into a joyful constant smile that beams brightly like a fucking midnight star. Let me know if you want eleven inches of happy therapy free of charge.” He says.
“I’d rather have my vag attacked by a school of feasting piranha, you prick. I’m far from a docile dame that takes this kind of shit off any man, not even a Hulk, like you.” Her demeanor changes to calm. Oh crap…
“This is bad, Brogan.” I slap at his leg.
“The only thing bad about this is that we don’t have some popcorn.” Brogan deadpans.
“One-time offer. No rainchecks. Your loss.” Channing throws her words from months back in her face with an evil smirk. “Get your pussy therapy from the lackluster lovers you’re used to then, blue-eyes. Makes no difference to me.” He chuckles.
I pull in a deep breath waiting for it because it’s coming. And as suspected Tam lets the cupcake fly like a pro-baller aiming at his face. Channing snaps to attention-catching it midair like a professional catcher, leisurely peels back the paper, and shoves more than half of the sweet treat in his mouth. I really hope that wasn’t the last one. If Tamera would try one of those delicious cakes, she’d pick something else to have a food fight with.
He winks at her then turns around and starts to walk away. He’s a beautifully built overgrown grizzly with zero common sense. If he had any experience with the female gender on any other level minus sex, he’d never talk to a woman like that. Needless to say, turn his back on one after doing so.
See, the thing is, I know my best friend. This is far from over and that proves true when Tamera leans down behind the counter only to stand back up with another cupcake in hand. With perfect aim, that sucker is quickly airborne smacking Channing in the back of the head, bullseye. It explodes like a cake bomb gone wrong in a bakery.
“Damn, she’s good,” Brogan says as he continues to catch all of this on his phone.
My head is pinging back and forth like a bouncy ball between two children. Channing runs his hand across the back of his head swiping away a fair amount of the whipped cream and strawberries. He turns to her and she’s chuckling demonically.
“The last one is usually the best, yeah?” Tam’s evil voice is chilling. “That’s what I think of your pussy therapy Creed number two.”
Lightening quick Channing takes off and leap-slides across the massive island before she even has time to collect herself. He bends over and snags her off the floor in a fireman hold.
“Uhhhh… Swear to Christ, Channing… Put me down.” Tam screeches out across the open space. “You asked for that shit.”
“You truly are used to dealing with fuckboy’s if you thought this was going to end any other way, crazy lady. Hell, you’re lucky I reframed from spanking your ass on that plane when you palmed my god damn forehead.” Channing slaps her ass with his bear claw and Tam’s entire body jolts up in response. It was a crackling sound to the ass cheek that even I know is going to leave an angry red welp.
“You bastard.” Tam snarls as she pounds her fists into his back.
“Yelp, that’s what call me.” Channing finally notices our presence in passing and his smile is wide as he gives us a chin lift. “Hey, sunshine.” He gives me a wink then looks over to Brogan. “Gotta handle some shit, be right back.” Brogan continues to film the show.
“Hey… You guys are back… Brogan, forward a copy of that to my phone. I’m suing this prick as soon as we get back to NYC. And sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up later.” She says while trying to look up from her upside-down position.
&nbs
p; “Understandable when dealing with that prick.” Brogan deadpans while pointing at Channing. “You can use my attorney or if worse comes to worst, I have a body bag and a yacht. We can feed the sharks later.”
“Channing…” My voice is thick with hesitation. “Don’t hurt my best friend.” I stomp my foot while crossing my hands over my chest. “We’re supposed to be on vacation ya’ll.”
“It’s okay Brea-bee. This bastard is bound to fall asleep.” Tam calls out.
“She needs to cool off, sunshine. It’s okay. I won’t drown her today but tomorrow is a whole different story altogether.” Channing says.
“Don’t do it, Channing. I’m warning you.” Tam growls but gives up on hitting the brick-built man hauling her around. It’s really useless. She’s probably doing more damage to her hands.
“Come on now, blue-eyes. You knew there’d be consequences before you wasted those cupcakes.” Channing’s voice is filled with humor.
I watch as his hulking body leisurely walks right out the back doors, saunters over to the pool then easily tosses Tamera’s tiny body into the water without a give a shit for whether or not she surfaces.
“You overgrown dickhead. You better not close your eyes tonight.” Tamera yells out as she swipes the water out of her face. He laughs out
loud but quickly composes himself.
“I hope like to fuck you wander into my room, crazy lady. I’m going to help you and everyone else around you out. Two words.” Channing leans down over her floating frame and growls. “PENIS THERAPY!”
“Jesus almighty,” I whisper.
“I think you’re on to something with those two,” Brogan says.
“What….? They clearly hate each other.” I say.
“Fine line between love and hate, Southern Comfort.” He pockets his phone and kisses the side of my neck. “Best vacation ever.” He whispers on a chuckle.
Staring down at my engagement ring, I rub my finger back and forth over the insane statement that it makes. Like a billboard that screams out Brogan Creed’s property. I smile and let that thought go with a dry sigh. I can’t even fathom how much something like this must have cost.
