Custom Love

by Chantal Fernando

  “I know. At least we’re not a mess,” he says.

  I go silent, remembering what happened last night.

  “What is it?” he asks, brow furrowing.

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “Nadia,” he chastises, taking my hand and pulling me to sit on his lap. “You have to talk to me. Communication is key, or so I’ve been told.”

  I hide my smile. “Just...last night you were saying Ariel’s name in your sleep, and I don’t know. It was a little hard to hear. I couldn’t even go back to sleep after that. I don’t know, I feel selfish even bringing it up, but yeah, it did get to me.”

  He’s quiet for a second, stroking my back as he thinks. “I did have a dream about Ariel last night. I remember having a conversation with her, but it wasn’t what you think. I was telling her about you, and she told me she was happy for me. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t love her and I don’t miss her, because I do. But Nadia, I want to be with you. You don’t have anything to worry about. I’m happy here right now with you, and I don’t wish I was anywhere else. Does that make sense?”

  I nod, composing myself.

  It does make sense, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me.

  “And you need to open up and talk to me, please. I’m not a mind reader, and if something has upset you, you need to tell me so we can talk about it, okay? There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

  “Okay. I just felt a little stupid bringing it up. It seems petty or insecure, I don’t know,” I admit, burying my head in his chest.

  “It’s none of those things, and if it means something to you, then it means something to me,” he replies, pushing my hair off my face. “You’re important to me, and I think we have something special here. I don’t say that lightly. I never planned for you, Nadia, but I’m so fucking happy to have you here in my life.”

  “You’re important to me, too.”

  He carries me to my room, and I strip down so he can give me my massage. Then I strip him down and return the favor, with my mouth.

  When we make love, he whispers in my ear how much he wants me, and how sexy I am to him.

  And I believe him.

  * * *

  Trade takes me on a ride on his motorcycle the next day. I told him we don’t have the time to be fucking around, but he said it’s our lunch break, and that it’s not a crime to have a little fun.

  I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, and I wasn’t planning on going on one today, but I guess sometimes you have to be a little spontaneous. I love that Trade has that side to him, because all I do is work; there’s hardly any play in my life.

  Trade brings the play.

  “I didn’t even know you had a motorcycle,” I say.

  “It’s been in the garage. This is the bike I rode when I was in the MC. It doesn’t get much use these days, but I still love it. I love riding—that’s what drew me into the club in the first place,” he replies. I suppose with kids, the minivan is of more use than the bike, but if he likes it so much, I’m glad he kept it. It’s a beautiful, well-kept bike, a black Harley, and I can tell how much he loves the thing.

  “I hope you look at me someday like you look at that bike,” I tease.

  He laughs, and strokes the seat for emphasis. “I don’t know about that.”

  I roll my eyes, and he turns, lifts me up in his arms and sits me down on the bike. “Are you ready for this adventure?” he asks, scanning my eyes.

  “I’m ready,” I reply, touching the side of his cheek.

  He closes his eyes, then opens them with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

  He sits in front of me, and I wrap my arms around him, enjoying the feel of him.

  The engine starts and I hold on a little tighter.

  As soon as we’re off I find myself really enjoying myself. I press my breasts against his back and smile as I watch the scenery fly past us, the green trees and large properties. I close my eyes.

  Everything else around me fades away. There’s just me, Trade and this motorcycle between our legs.

  It’s pretty fucking great.

  I couldn’t think of a better way to add a little spice into your day, especially if like me, you work behind a desk a lot of the time.

  We stop at a new café, have lunch and ice cream and then ride back to work. Trade grips the back of my neck, tilts my head back and kisses me before he leaves.

  When it’s good with us, it’s so good, and that’s what has me hooked.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Decker calls me a few days later, just as I’ve arrived at work. “You sitting down?”

  “Why?” I ask, frowning.

  “I think Damon might have had ties to the Knights. I know they are your friends and all but—”

  “Ties how?”

  “Drugs.”

  “The Knights don’t deal with drugs of any kind,” I tell him. That seems to be their hard line, not that I know much about the ins and outs of their MC life. But I heard Abbie say that, and as Temper’s wife, she would know more than any of the women.

  “That you know of. Nadia, they are a motorcycle club. What do you think they do to make money?”

  “They own legitimate businesses,” I grumble. “What makes you think this?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been talking to people Damon sold drugs to, and they are certain that one of the Knights is his supplier.”

  Interesting. I mean, I don’t know what the Knights have going on. I only see what they want me to see, but from what I know this doesn’t sound like something they would be involved in.

  “What do we do with this?” I ask, wondering what he is planning. I guess in a way this is a conflict of interest for me. What if the Knights do have something to do with it? I wouldn’t want them to get into any trouble.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to keep digging,” he comments. “And don’t you dare go and tell the MC that we’re onto them.”

  Shit. “I won’t say anything.”

  He hangs up and I groan. Another awkward situation where I’m put in the middle. He told me not to tell the MC, but Trade isn’t in the MC. But he would tell his brother, and then I’d be up shit’s creek.

  I push this problem to the side to be dealt with later, when we have more information.

  “Let go of what you can’t control,” I mutter to myself.

  My new mantra is easier said than done.

  * * *

  “Your real name is Tradon?” I ask Trade as I look at his driver’s license. Izzy has the kids tonight, so Trade came over to spend the night at my house. It’s nice having some alone time with him in my space.

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought Trade was just a nickname they made up,” I admit.

  He grins. “Just a shortened form of Tradon. My brother has always called me Trade and it just stuck.”

  “And Temper’s real name is Tommy.”

  “Yeah, did the kids tell you that?” he asks, wrapping his arm around me as we sit on the couch.

  “Yeah, they did. I asked them who this Uncle Tommy was that they were talking about. Suits him.”

  “You won’t hear many people calling him that.” He grins.

  “Seems to be the way in the MC with all of your road names.”

  I’ve been feeling guilty all night, wondering if I should be honest and tell him what Decker said, but I’m torn. Considering we’ve had a few issues with our communication, the last thing I want is for him to think I wasn’t honest with him. But I don’t want Decker to not trust me either. We have such a good working relationship, and I’d hate to ruin that.

  So much for not worrying about what I can’t control.

  I turn to Trade and stare at his handsome profile. He turns his head and brings his eyes to me as he notices I’m watching him.

  “D
o the Knights ever deal drugs?” I blurt out, unable to help myself.

  Fuck.

  His brows draw together. “Why?”

  “Just curious,” I lie.

  “Nope,” he replies, turning back to the TV, obviously thinking nothing of my questioning. “Not now, anyway. All of their businesses are legitimate and they are making a shit ton of money, so there’s no need to do anything like that.”

  “Makes sense,” I mutter.

  “What made you think of that?” he asks absently, and this is the moment where I need to lie, evade, or just be honest and trust that he will keep what I tell him in private. As partners, we should share everything with each other and know that the information is safe among us.

  We should be each other’s safe space.

  “I’ll tell you, but I need you to promise that it stays between us,” I say.

  He turns back to me and nods. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Decker thinks that there’s a tie between Damon and the Knights somehow. As in, someone in the Knights was the one supplying him with drugs to sell on the street,” I say, watching his reaction.

  I’ve barely finished my sentence when he’s already shaking his head no. “My brother would not have allowed that. There’s no way. You know my mother overdosed on drugs, right? Temper won’t touch the stuff.”

  “I said as much to Decker.”

  “So the cops are looking into the MC then?” he asks, frowning. His tone suddenly changes, and I can tell that he’s on edge. “If they are, then Temper should know about it, Nadia.”

  Shit.

  “Decker is just looking into Damon and Taylor’s case, nothing else,” I reply. “And he’s doing it off the book because he was told to stand down. We can’t tell Temper, because then I’m going to be in shit with Decker. I’m telling you this in confidence.”

  Trade stands up and turns off the TV. He turns to me but doesn’t look me in the eye. When he starts to speak, I know why. “Temper is my brother. He is family, and Decker is just a cop. You have to be loyal to me and my family, not a work colleague.” The way he says it, the condescending tone he uses, sets me on edge and raises my hackles. “He’s not even a colleague. He’s just some cop who low-key wants you.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “This isn’t some important life-or-death information that you need to run and tell Temper. This is something I was told in confidence and asked you about, after you said you would keep it to yourself!”

  “I didn’t know it was going to be something like this. My brother is everything to me, surely you understand that. I have to warn him that the cops will be poking around in his club to protect him. To protect all of us. This is our family we’re talking about.”

  “You are not going to tell him,” I say. “If the MC isn’t selling drugs, like you claim, this isn’t a big deal.”

  “Why are you so loyal to Decker?” he asks, clenching his teeth. “What does it matter? He’s just a cop.”

  “He’s someone I trust, and someone who trusts me. In my business, that matters. It matters to me, Trade. I don’t just turn my back on people who have mine.”

  “And I don’t either,” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. He finally looks at me, holding my stare.

  “We are supposed to be a team, a safe space for each other, and I need to be able to say whatever the fuck I want without worrying that you’re going to tell people about it. I wouldn’t tell anyone something you have told me in private.”

  “If it had to do with a case you were working on, you’d tell the whole world,” he fires back. “Work comes first to you, so don’t act like it doesn’t.”

  I swallow hard. “You said you liked that about me.”

  “You said you had no problem being with me knowing I have a lot going on with the kids, so I guess we both lied.”

  My jaw drops. “Where did that even come from? We’re talking about you running off to tell your brother something I asked you not to. The situation with the kids is a lot to take on, and I know that, but I’m still fucking here, aren’t I? And I haven’t said anything to make you think otherwise.” This must be his own insecurity.

  I stand up and go to leave the room. I need to walk away or else I’ll say something I’m going to regret.

  “Seriously, Ariel, you’re just going to walk away?” he calls out.

  I go still.

  He said Ariel’s name once before, but this is different. He was sleeping then, whatever, but this time it just pushes me over the edge. “Get out.”

  I don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he looks offended that I’ve told him to leave, but he gets up and does as he’s been asked.

  And me?

  I break down and cry, and wish that I’d listened to Bronte from the beginning.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I don’t talk to Trade the next day. I stay home, eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself, because I don’t know how I feel or if we can even fix this. It was our first big fight, and it was a bad one. We both said things we shouldn’t have in the heat of the moment, but everything that was said did have some truth in it.

  Which is why it hurts so much.

  I call Decker. “Hey, so I might have fucked up,” I say.

  “What did you do now?”

  “I told Trade about the MC ties to drugs, and I don’t know if he’s going to tell Temper or not. So the MC might know,” I say, rushing the words out.

  He’s silent for a few seconds, and I can almost feel his disapproval wafting through the phone. “Fucking hell, Nadia,” he whispers. “What if they try to cover things up and get rid of evidence?”

  “I honestly do not believe the MC is involved in drugs.”

  He lets out a big sigh. “Thanks for giving me the heads-up. And it’s okay, we will sort it out. We always do.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “It’s okay,” he replies in a curt tone, before hanging up.

  I know how unimpressed he must be with me right now. Trust me, I feel the same way.

  Trade tries to call me, but I don’t answer, because I don’t know what to say. The conversation we need to have is going to be a brutally honest one, and I don’t know how it’s going to end, which is probably why I’m avoiding it.

  I love him, I truly do, but I can’t compete with a dead woman the rest of my life. It hurts too much. I’ve accepted that Ariel will always be part of my world, but hearing him call me her name felt like a thousand knives stabbing into my body. The hardest part is that I understand he cannot control it, so I don’t know what either of us could do to make things better. It’s not like we’re not trying. And then add the fact that I can’t trust that what I tell him will stay between us... Gah, I have no idea what I’m doing here.

  Trade surprises me by coming around unannounced that evening, just after I’ve had a long bath, blasting Whitney Houston and Boyz II Men.

  “Hey,” I say at the door, tightening my robe around me.

  “Can we talk, please?” he asks, handing me a bunch of flowers.

  I accept the flowers and let him inside. We sit back down on the same couch where we were yelling at each other last night.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. And I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. It won’t happen again,” he says, taking my hand in his.

  He doesn’t say anything about calling me the name of his ex, so I think I was right—he doesn’t even realize what he did.

  “You called me Ariel. Again,” I say, letting go of his hand. “Could you imagine if I called you another man’s name? It wouldn’t feel very nice, would it?”

  His eyes widen. “When did I call you Ariel?”

  “When we were arguing. You called me her name.”

  “I didn’t even re
alize I did that,” he replies, wincing. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Nadia. It would have just been habit, I didn’t mean to. And the time I said it in my sleep, that wasn’t my—”

  I hold up my hand. “I realize you cannot control what you say in your sleep and it’s something I’m working on dealing with. But yesterday...you screamed her name at me and you didn’t even realize it. Am I just filling in for her?”

  He frowns. “That’s not fair, Nadia. How can I control what comes out of my mouth in the heat of the moment?”

  “I’m sorry, are you saying as an adult we shouldn’t be held accountable for what we say? We have no control?”

  He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “That’s not what I mean. You are not just a replacement for her. I promise. You’re you and you’re very different than her. In a good way.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”

  He puts an arm around me and lifts my face to his. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this kind of happiness again. That makes you even more special and shows how amazing you are. Don’t discredit that or what we have.”

  I sigh. “I believe you,” I say. “But I do wonder if we rushed into this, if we should have waited a little longer. I don’t know. This shouldn’t be so hard. Between Ariel and everything else...”

  “Don’t you dare give up on me now, Nadia. I let my kids see us together because I was confident that we were going to make it, because how I feel about you doesn’t come around every day,” he says, shaking his head. “You can’t walk away from us.”

  “I’m not walking away, I just need some time to think.”

  He nods. “Okay, if you need time I can give you that.” He lets go of me, and I miss him already.

  “What about what I told you about Decker? Did you tell Temper?”

  “No. No, I didn’t. After I left I realized that you confided in me, and in order to build trust, I have to honor that. If the roles were reversed, you’re right, I’d be upset if you told someone when I asked you not to. I don’t think the MC has anything to do with drugs; I know my brother. But you have to know that if something important came up, I’m always going to do what I need to to protect my family. I would do the same for you.”