She crumples then. Her cool exterior dissolves, and big fat teardrops fall from her eyes. Her shoulders heave, and she covers her face. I know it’s not fake because even though she’s secretive, Brenda can’t act to save her life.
“I’m sorry, Brad. I did something bad. I know that now. Stan made me see it; I shouldn’t have just walked out of Isaac’s life. Please. I’m sorry. Let me see him; I want to make amends. I want to know him again.”
“What has changed? When you came before, you never even asked about him.”
“My lawyer had told me to act cool, not to show my emotions or neediness. He doesn’t know I am here now,” she cries.
My heart is thawing. I still don’t trust her. “What if he doesn’t want to go with you? Or you run off with him?”
She looks stricken. Hitting her with those possibilities was deliberate, but they come as news to her. Those were not things on her mind. “I’ve caused so much damage and pain; I wouldn’t do that, I promise. Besides, Stan wouldn’t even let me. It would jeopardize our chances of winning custody.”
That’s a stark reminder that she’s my enemy. But it still doesn’t take away the fact that she’s Isaac’s mom.
I sigh. “I’ll go ask him. If he agrees, I’m giving you two hours; if you’re not back, I’ll call the cops.”
She nods vigorously. Fresh tears flood her eyes. She clasps her hands together. “Thank you so much, Brad. I honestly never expected you to agree. I was just trying my luck.”
“Don’t celebrate just yet. I still need to ask him.”
I stride to Mila’s house and find her and Isaac coloring on the kitchen table. He’s completely engrossed in what he’s doing. Mila, who has only been with us for a short time, already knows Isaac more than his own mom does.
I pull out a chair next to Isaac and sit. “That looks good, buddy,” I tell him.
He looks at me, grins, and goes back to coloring.
I place my hand on his arm. “I need to ask you something.” He hears something in my voice that alerts him that whatever I want to say is serious.
“Yes, Dad,” he says and looks at me, his eyes shining with love and trust.
My guts twist, and I’m tempted to leave it and go and tell Brenda to go to hell. Then I remember Isaac’s hurt expression in the car the day I told him about marrying Mila. He misses his mom, whether he knows it or not, and she’s the only one who can wipe off that expression permanently.
“Your mom is outside.” A panicked look comes over his features.
“My mom?” he whispers.
I nod. “She wants to see you. Take you to the park or for ice cream or whatever you want. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
He looks confused. My fatherly protective feelings are growling now, but this is something I must let Isaac decide.
He looks at me unsurely, and then he nods slightly. “Will she bring me back to you?”
“Of course,” I tell him. “This is your home, Isaac.”
He smiles. And then I see something else in his eyes. Excitement and hope. I swear if Brenda does anything stupid, I’m going to kill her with my bare hands.
“Okay,” I tell him. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” he says, his voice shaky.
I want to cry. No child should be placed in the position that Isaac is in now. Desperate to see his mother while at the same time, frightened that she might not bring him back home.
“Can we finish this later, Mila? My mom wants to take me for ice cream.”
Mila cups his cheek. “Of course, we can. Go on and have a great time.”
“Thanks,” he says.
I swallow a lump in my throat. I push the chair back, and as we walk to the door, Isaac places his small hand into mine, and I resist the urge to hold it tight. He walks slowly.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I remind him.
“I want to,” Isaac says.
Brenda comes to meet us. Isaac keeps his gaze downcast and does not look at his mom. She looks at me questioningly, and I shrug.
“Isaac,” I tell him.
He finally looks up, and his eyes clamp on his mom.
“I missed you so much,” Brenda says and comes to him. She kneels down to his height.
Isaac lets go of my hand, and he throws himself on Brenda and wraps his hands around her neck. Both of us have tears in our eyes as we look at him. Our marriage ended terribly, but we have Isaac. Our son.
***
“Do you want to help me pack?” Mila says after we sit at her table for five minutes, and all I can do is voice my fears to her.
She has tried to reassure me that I made the right decision, but I’ll only feel better when Brenda brings Isaac back. The seconds and minutes tick by slowly. I swear time has slowed.
Mila knows me too well. I need a distraction. “Yes, I’d love to.”
“I might even let you see some of my sketches,” she says, her voice teasing.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she says and gets to her feet. “Come on. There’s one in particular that will be sure to cheer you up.”
I’ve never been to the attic, and when we get there, I’m at a loss for words. The roof and walls are all glass, and the sunlight floods in from various angles creating a halo-like effect.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell her.
She grins. “That’s why I picked it.”
I walk to the wall and lookout. I feel like a goldfish in a bowl but in a good way. When I turn back, Mila is holding out a sketchbook. I almost grab it from her hands.
The first page is of Isaac, and it is so alive and uncanny that I almost drop the book.
“Fuck, Mila.”
She chuckles.
I flip the page. A drawing of myself and Isaac. Our heads are close together as if we’re reading a book. I stop and look at her. “You’re a genius.”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “Not quite. Do you like them?”
“Like them? I love them! They feel so real. The first one of Isaac really freaked me out. I almost dropped the book.” I continue looking, and when I’m finished, I look at her in awe. “God Mila, I knew you were talented, but these are gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” she says shyly.
“I’m married to the most talented artist in the whole country,” I exclaim with my hands held out.
She laughs. “Let me show you the drawing I was talking about.” She opens a drawer and removes the piece of paper, clearly ripped from a sketchbook, and hands it to me. I stare at the drawing in disbelief.
“Is it really that big?” I ask her as I stare at the drawing of my fully erect cock.
“Bigger,” she says.
I start to chuckle. “You have a dirty mind, wifey.”
“And mouth,” Mila says, and we both laugh. “Okay, Mister. Fun’s over, time to earn your keep,” Mila says.
“You are so bossy,” I say.
We smile at each other. She crumples the drawing and tears it up.
“Hey, I wasn’t ready to lose my big cock,” I protest.
“I have sleepless nights when I imagine Isaac coming across it,” Mila says.
That sobers me up.
We leave the studio intact and agree that she’ll be using it as her workspace. Then we go to her room, and I help her pack her clothes into suitcases. An hour later, we leave the rented house and go to Mila’s new home. She comes to a halt in the hallway.
“Do you want me to continue sleeping in the guest room?”
I’m taken aback, and I place the suitcase on the floor. “Is that what you want?” I don’t want to push her into something she doesn’t want.
“No,” she says simply.
“Me neither,” I tell her.
We go to the master bedroom and into the walk-in closet. “All of this side is yours,” I tell her. I’m glad now that Brenda insisted on a house with a walk-in closet.
Mila is delighted. “This is lovely
. Thank you.”
“Do you need help hanging your clothes?” I say, not that I know much about hanging women’s delicate dresses.
Mila laughs, knowing it’s a polite offer. “No thanks. Go and make us a cup of coffee. I’ll join you shortly.”
When I’m in the hallway, I look at the time. A whole other hour to go.
Chapter 19
Brad
I’m out the door before Brenda brings the car to a complete stop. I stride to the car just as Isaac opens the back door. He runs to me. We cling to each other. Emotions flood my chest as I hold my boy. It feels so good to have him back home. I inspect him without being obvious about it. “Did you have a good time?”
Isaac looks up. He’s all smiles, and that makes me happy. “Yes! We went to the park and fed the ducks. And then we went for ice cream.”
“I’m glad you had fun,” I tell him.
He turns. “Bye, Mom.” And then runs to the house.
I expect Brenda to say goodbye and go. Instead, she kills the engine and gets out. I see her face then. Her eyes are bulging out of her face, and she’s shaking slightly. She plants her legs apart and crosses her arms over her chest. “How dare you? Isaac told me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, not overly concerned. My only worry was Isaac, and now that he’s back home, nothing else worries me.
Brenda sees this, and it seems to ignite her anger further. “You married his fucking nanny, Brad. I didn’t know you could stoop so low.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask her perplexed. “Mila and I fell in love.”
“Bullshit!” she shouts. “What do you take me for? A fool? I know you married her for the custody case.”
“I really don’t care what you think, Brenda.”
“Maybe not, but the judge will care. You’ve made a huge mistake. A fake marriage so you can win custody? Really, Brad?”
I glare at her. “It took a stranger for you to see your mistakes as a mother. I didn’t need to be told. I know all my mistakes, and the biggest one was marrying you.”
She steps forward and quick as a flash, she slaps my cheek. “They will all know about this. You wait and see. You’ve just signed Isaac away with that stupid move.”
Her threats don’t bother me. My own lawyer is well versed in custody cases, and he tells me that my chances of keeping Isaac are a lot better now. Brenda is just angry that I have one over her. She stalks back to her car. The engine roars to life, and the tires screech as she drives off. Sadness envelopes me when the car disappears.
Brenda and I have been reduced to this. Fighting over a son we both love. And she’s right. I got fake-married to increase my chances of keeping him. Not that I regret marrying Mila. She’s beautiful and kind and easy to be with. But neither of us was looking for a long-term relationship. I don’t want to think about how this whole thing will end up.
I trudge back to the house and find Mila and Isaac in the kitchen. Mila is cooking, and Isaac is at the table coloring. Mila shoots me a worried glance, and I smile to reassure her.
Later, after dinner and Isaac has gone to bed, I tell Mila about it. She looks worried.
“What if she does have a point?” Mila asks as she sits next to me in front of the television.
I shrug. “We’ll have to wait and see. Anyway, all Brenda has is accusations. No one can prove that our marriage is fake. Hell, I even have a hard time believing that myself.” We lean into each other and watch the evening news.
“Let’s go to bed, wifey,” I tell her half an hour later.
I’m beat, and my emotions feel as if they’ve been put through a washing machine. Mila goes into the bathroom first, and when she’s done, I take my turn. Afterward, I strip down until I’m stark naked, and then I get in bed.
“So, you sleep naked?” Mila asks.
“Most of the time,” I tell her. “What about you?”
“In a nightshirt, but I can try your way too. It’s a bit hot,” she says, and I feed my eyes on her as she removes her clothes.
She gets in bed; I switch off the bedside light and hold her close. We don’t make love and fall asleep holding each other tight.
Sometime in the night, I wake up to a soft body and immediately start caressing Mila. She moans softly and flips to her back, an invitation if I ever saw one. I suck on her tits, and with the other hand, I tease her pussy until she’s dripping wetness.
“I want you, Brad,” she says, and I roll on top of her and fuck her missionary style.
She grabs my ass cheeks and squeezes as I pump into her, increasing my thrusts each time. We come together and go back to sleep until morning.
***
This must be how celebrities feel after all their business is laid out in the open, I think to myself as we leave the family court. As Brenda had threatened, her attorney accused me of marrying Isaac’s nanny just to win the case. I’d worn a puzzled look that confused the judge further.
Eventually, he assigned us a court evaluator whose job was to verify that my marriage with Mila was real. He could come into our home any time he pleased and stay as long as he wanted. I’m glad Mila has already moved in and settled into the master bedroom.
The judge gives us eight weeks, and at that time, the evaluator will have given his report, and the judge will make a decision. Brenda shoots me a triumphant look as she and a man I assume is Stan, walk past.
“You must do everything possible to make sure this looks real,” my attorney whispers into my ear.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do except live as we’ve been living. It hits me then that even before Mila and I got married, we were behaving like a couple. We only need to go on with our lives.
The whole thing finished earlier than I thought. It’s noon and I took a day off from work. Mila has gone back to painting, and I know she’s in the studio, and I don’t want to bother her. I decide to go back home and clean the pool. I usually have a pool company come in every two weeks, but in between, I clean it myself.
As I thought, Mila is in her studio. The house is quiet, and I go to my room and change into shorts and a T-shirt. I go out and gather stuff for cleaning in the wooden storage house outside. With a long-handled net, I skim the surface of the pool, collecting leaves and other debris. Every so often, I glance up at Mila’s studio and wonder how she’s doing up there. I still haven’t come to terms with how gifted she is and how humble. I’m a lucky fellow to be her fake husband.
“What are you smiling about?”
I jump. I hadn’t heard Mila’s footsteps.
“I was thinking how lucky I am to have you in my corner,” I say, my eyes taking in the lines of her body.
She’s wearing a skimpy bikini that is showing more than it is covering. All the blood goes down to my cock.
“How did it go?” she says and saunters toward me and lies down. She arranges the towel on the concrete and lies on her stomach. The bottom half of her swimsuit is a thong. The flimsy material disappears between her ass cheeks. Talk about temptation.
I tell her all that transpired very fast. I continue fishing for leaves, but I can’t keep my eyes off her curvy lush ass.
She raises her head and looks at me solemnly. “Everything will be okay. You’re a fantastic dad, Brad; no one can take that away from you.”
Her words make me flush with pleasure.
“Is the pool ready; can I go in?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s fine. I was thinking of a swim myself,” I tell her.
Her eyes twinkle. “Is that right?”
She stands up, and I follow her with my eyes as she slowly dips into the pool. I realize that I’ve been holding my breath. I drop the net and shed my T-shirt and shorts.
Mila giggles. “You’re in your briefs, not swim shorts.”
I smile sheepishly. I don’t care what I’m wearing. All I know is that I want to be near her. Being with her at this time of day is an unexpected surprise, and I intend to enjoy this time.
I dive in and swim to her in the shallower part of the pool. I pull her into my arms and press my lips to her throat and then lick off the drops of water hanging there. Her hands circle my neck. I kiss her cheek and lips. She opens her mouth for me, and I slip in my tongue. We kiss deeply, and my hands roam over her curvy ass.
“I wore this for you,” Mila whispers into my ear.
“It’s hot,” I tell her.
My hands come to the front, and I push the top of her swimsuit down. The water comes up to her waist, and her perfect tits are pushed up and exposed. Her nipples are hard and large.
“Can I have a taste?” I ask her, already lowering my head.
“Yes,” she breathes.
I love how Mila arches her back when I’m working her nipples. I pinch and lick and gently tug. My cock grows rigid in my boxer briefs, swelling until it almost tears a hole through the material.
“One second,” I tell Mila and quickly pull them down and step out.
Her eyes widen when my hard bare cock presses against her pussy. Her hand goes down, and she grips my cock.
“Fuck, Mila.”
I go for her mouth while teasing her nipples with my thumbs and forefingers. She wraps one hand at the base of my cock, and with the other, she strokes it up and down, applying a little pressure when she reaches the head.
“Fuck, Mila.”
I drop one hand and push the flimsy material of her bikini bottom aside. Her pussy is ready for me. I push one finger in and pump it in and out and then add another. Mila writhes and moans but manages to keep working my cock.
We kiss and nibble each other’s mouths. When the pleasure is too much, we pause but are soon back wrapping our tongues around each other like a dance. Mila lets out a low moan and starts panting.
“I want you to fuck me here,” she says.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I tell her and withdraw my fingers.
I place my cock at the entrance of her pussy and then grab her thighs and lift her up. She spreads her hands behind her on the concrete. I enter her quickly, and she lets out a sharp cry.
“Is this how you want it?” I say.
“Fuck, yes,” Mila cries.
Unexpected Heat: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 10
