It’s just another happy little mistake. Easily fixable.
I pop the cast-iron skillet in the oven and helicopter a dish towel over my head to dispel the cloud of smoke and silence at least the alarm in the kitchen. The deafening chirp persists, so I rush to the patio door and fling it open, letting the breeze dispel the haze lingering above the stove.
As I rest my shoulder against the frame and inhale the clean air, a woman’s voice says,
“Oh, dear. You didn’t tell me Chloe was pregnant.”
In what feels like slow motion, I glance over my shoulder to see two sets of enlarged eyes on my naked ass.
One belonging to Austin.
And the other?
His mother, of course.
My horrified gaze ping-pongs between them. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper.
Olive musters a wan smile before I slip out the door, and with my Louboutin knock-offs sinking in the ground, hands covering my butt, I waddle across the backyard to the new gardening shed in the yard’s corner. Exposing one cheek, I open the door and step inside.
Next to the hoe, I hyperventilate.
I am, in fact, a hyperventilating hoe.
A knock interrupts my death spiral. “Chloe,” Austin says. “Can I come in?”
“Do you have clothes for me?”
“Yeah.”
I open the door a sliver and peek at him. “Why is your mom here?” It’s been well over a year since I’ve seen Olive. Wouldn’t you know today would be the day she makes an appearance?
“She stopped by the restaurant and followed me home to grab some fresh tomatoes to make pasta sauce.” He has the audacity to smirk. “I wasn’t expecting to see my fantasy when we walked in the kitchen.”
“This is not the time to try to charm me. Your mother saw…ugh.” I open the door to let him in and awkwardly plop down on a stack of fertilizer.
“It’s fine,” he says. “Can we discuss the elephant in the room?”
I can’t help but smile. “You did not just call me an elephant.”
He crouches in front of me and runs a hand over my protruding stomach. “What is this?”
“You weren’t supposed to see. I did it for Charlotte. It’s a sympathy stomach.” I reach under my apron and remove it. “Ah, that feels so much better.”
“Do you have any idea how adorable you are?”
“I’m sure your mom would disagree. She thinks your roommate, your pregnant roommate, walks around half naked.”
He palms my face and his dark eyes search mine. “I told her about us.”
I blink. “She knows we’re dating?”
“Yeah.”
The fact he’s shared our status with her so soon surprises me. This is not the timeframe recommended by experts. Wow, it’s really official.
“Can I just hide out in here until she’s gone?”
“No. You’re an adult, remember?”
“A reluctant adult.”
He nuzzles my cheek with his nose and whispers against my ear. “Let’s do this so we can get to the rest of the fantasy.”
As much as I’d rather move into the shed and live off the grid, I know I can’t, so I slip on the black shorts and Marshmello tee Austin brought out for me and face Olive in the kitchen to break the news of my terminated pregnancy.
To her credit, she laughs when I explain the belly and when Austin steps out to the garden to gather some tomatoes for her, she shares a secret with me.
“I want you to know, I’m happy you and Austin are giving it a shot. I never told him, but I always thought he was better suited for you than Lucy.”
“I never told him, but I thought so too.”
“He’s always telling me your little history facts.” She pats my arm. “I know you’ll be good to him.”
My heart pounds because she’s one more casualty if this doesn’t work out. We don’t discuss my nakedness because what is there to say? I’m sure Ruth would know. Thank Tattoo Jesus for Olive. When she leaves, I ponder Austin’s words about marrying into a family and how easily she transitioned to the new relationship between us.
Why can’t I do that?
I haven’t even told Granny Mae it’s official yet, much less my mom.
Soon. I’ll tell them soon.
If at first you don’t succeed, try again. Or as Granny Mae says, “The first time is practice. The second time is what counts.”
While Austin is outside saying goodbye to Olive, the shirt and shorts fly off and I’m back in role-play mode. Bob would be proud of the way I’ve recreated the scene with no smoke or mom in tow.
“Oh, hi,” I say when Austin re-enters the kitchen, bending over with no shame to give him a view of my backside as I retrieve the dish towel I conveniently dropped on the floor.
“Mm,” is his sexy response.
I rise from my bendy position and he stalks toward me like a predator, eyes pinned on me, licking his lips. With a swift yank, I’m pulled flush against his chest, and he captures my mouth in a ravishing kiss that quickly descends into my own fantasy being fulfilled.
“I’ve been dying to fuck you.” He rocks his hips into my hand, trailing his tongue over my erratic pulse. “I’m so hard for you.”
My self-control snaps, and I unzip his shorts, slipping my hand inside to stroke his velvet thickness. “I want you inside me.”
He lifts me and deposits me on the table. “Touch yourself,” he says.
Hot and primal fire licks my spine as I spread my legs and let him watch me pleasure myself as he quickly sheds his clothes. His pained groan heightens the sensations and I circle faster when he palms his dick and gives a swift stroke.
I stop the motion of my hand before I come. He steps between my legs and leans down to bite my nipple through the apron’s material.
“Should we eat dinner first?” I ask as he rolls on a condom.
“Nope,” he says, running the head of his cock through my wetness. “You’re all I want right now.”
He rearranges me so I’m standing but bent over the table. He gives me a light spank and then another.
“Should we get the cuffs?” I bring up again because even if it’s not my thing, it’s his.
“No,” he says, biting down on my shoulder causing a long moan to release from me. “I don’t want to dominate you, Chloe. And I’m not sure I could, even if I tried.”
He slides in and I brace my hands on the table, pushing back against him. In the moon-shaped mirror hanging on the wall next to the table, our eyes meet.
His hand snakes around my waist and down to rub my clit as he pumps into me. “I like to watch the expressions on your face when I fuck you.”
“I like when you fuck me,” I pant out.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
His moans mingle with mine and he moves faster and faster, lifting my feet off the floor with the power of his thrusts. And then he pulls my cheeks apart and slips the tip of his pinky where no finger has ever entered me. A shiver courses through me, because whoa, I wasn’t expecting it to feel so good.
“Does this count as anal?” I say, eyes connected to his reflection. Every romance reader knows anal is the final frontier before an HEA.
“You like that?” He eases in a little further, filling me.
“God, yes,” I say.
“Yeah?” His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip. “You want more?”
“Yes,” I repeat over and over, greedy for more of this exquisite pleasure.
He pulls out before slamming back into me, a husky groan leaving him.
Tingles start in my toes and soon everything is heightened, and I can’t hold back.
“Austin,” I cry out, “I’m going to come.”
“Fuck, yes. Do it. Come on me,” he pleads, bracing his hand on the table. “It’s mine. You’re mine.”
I’m his. Oh, damn. I do. With one swift, tight stroke and a swivel of his hips, my release arches my back, fanning out from my center to every nerve ending like a s
trike of lightning streaking across the sky. A cascade of bubbles burst along my skin.
His body jerks and my eyes fly open to watch the beauty of his orgasm. He grips my hip so tight, I know it will leave a mark. I like the thought of wearing his mark on my body.
A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his sculptured face and he gives me a lingering kiss before we clean ourselves and finally eat dinner. It’s pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. The world needs to recognize when I show my like.
After the kitchen is cleaned, we settle on the couch and I check my voicemail. It’s the realtor handling Bev’s property.
“Hi, Chloe. This is Sheri. I’m calling to let you know that everything is finalized and Bev is ready to lease the place to you. Call me soon so we can set up a time to discuss things further. Have a blessed night.”
I got the place. In my excitement, I immediately call Charlotte on speaker to share the good news with both of my most important peeps at the same time:
“I got the place!”
Austin smiles.
Charlotte asks, “The one with the bedroom above the shop in case things don’t work out with Austin?”
She doesn’t realize she’s on speaker, and Austin’s smile disappears.
He can barely look at me as I tell Charlotte I’ll call her back.
I know what he’s thinking.
“It was a mature decision,” I say.
“To have a backup plan?”
It was an exit plan, but semantics.
“Having a backup plan is a grown-up thing. I’m very adult.”
“Or you’re not grown-up enough to commit.”
“We just started dating, Austin. It’s a little early to commit to living together.”
He says some things that are mean and true. “You make excuses to excuse what you don’t want to admit. You expect this to fail and you want to hide from it.”
I say some things that are mean and maybe not true, but feel good to say. “Stop being so holier-than-thou. It’s not a good look.”
It’s not true because everything is a good look on him, but I am not the Comeback Queen.
“I’m going to sleep at the restaurant tonight.” He opens the door and tosses over his shoulder, “I’ll sleep on the couch because I don’t have a backup bed.”
He leaves.
I cry.
And then I think about what he said, about my excuses, and I can’t make any excuses to excuse them. The word loses all meaning, and I bury my face in Austin’s cool sheets and fluffy bed just in case he comes home and I can tell him how sorry I am.
But he doesn’t.
This may be the one mistake I can’t fix.
Eleven
“It’s hard to see things when you are too close. Take a step back and look.” ― Bob Ross
* * *
The best friends are those who can tell you you’re full of crap without making you feel like crap. It’s a fine line and one that Charlotte walks with amazing finesse as I recline in the empty claw-foot tub in the apartment above the new space that will be Mae’d With Love’s home.
“I can’t believe he didn’t know about this place and I blasted it over speakerphone. Why didn’t you tell him about the backup plan? And don’t blow smoke up my ballooning butt. You need to be honest with yourself about your reasoning.”
I shrug, running a hand over the sympathy stomach Charlotte insisted I continue to provide misery-company with. “I really don’t know. It would be so much easier if I had a reason for not telling him. But I don’t.”
“Dig deeper,” she says. “I think you have one, but you don’t want to admit to yourself that he was right about everything.”
Sometimes I wish she didn’t know me so well. She can see through me like glass. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, there was nothing untrue in what Austin said. I’m a sham of an adult.”
She twists her lips to the side, studying me. “It’s more than that. You’re cushioning.”
“I don’t know what that is, therefore, I can’t be doing it.”
“You are doing it. Now that I think about it, I see it clearly.”
“Explain, please.”
“Cushioning is when you set up Plan B in case Plan A fails. Chloe”—she sits on the toilet—“those feelings of failure, as much as they suck, are crucial in driving you to put the effort into working toward success.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re expecting you and Austin to fail, and you’re pre-softening the letdown. When you said you wanted this place in case things didn’t work out with Austin, it wasn’t because you were going to make sure it worked out. You never thought it would. So you made a pre-emptive strike to lessen the blow.”
My brows raise. “Is that what I’m doing?”
“Yeah.” She looks very pleased she has diagnosed me yet again. “This place is your cushion, kind of like when someone has another girl or guy waiting in the wings. You chose an apartment for yours instead of making a choice between the two. You’re double-dipping.”
“Wow, you might be right.” If I step back and observe my life from a neutral position, I see Austin isn’t the only thing I’ve cushioned.
“Might be right? You know I am. And can I just say… I know the first baby is really a test run and you don’t get things right until like the second or third, but I might be the exception to the rule. After advising you, I’m going to be a phenomenal parent, aren’t I?”
“You are going to be exceptional. You should have seven children. I don’t think I realized until now how many backup plans I have in place.” I gasp. “Charlotte…”
“What?”
I haul myself into a sitting position. “I even have a backup plan for Mae’d…with Laid. I didn’t do it intentionally. It was subconscious, I guess.”
“Huh.” She taps her finger on her bottom lip, thinking. “Yeah, I guess you do. I’m smart, huh?”
“So smart.” I attempt to rise from the tub, but can’t. “Listen, this thing is going to have to go or I’ll be stuck in the bathtub forever. Will you be upset if I take it off?”
“No.” She laughs. “I can’t believe you actually bought one of those for me. We’re going to have so many great stories to tell this little nugget.”
“Probably too many.” My lungs expand and I can finally breathe when I unlatch the Velcro and remove my faux belly to step out. We rub our lower backs in the same place at the same time. Synched as only sympathy stomachs can make you.
“Can I have that for James? He needs more empathy for me.”
“It’s yours. It’s really hard to understand pregnancy until you can’t see your feet.” I clap my hands. “Okay, I need to fix this mess. Because everything is fixable.”
I hope.
“Yep,” Charlotte says, holding out a hand for me to pull her up. “Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
She doesn’t let go when she’s standing. “This apartment was kind of my backup plan too. You know, when maybe I feel the need to escape. You can never tell a soul I said that.”
“Never. It’ll go to my grave.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m always your backup plan, no matter where I am.”
“Same.”
“You won’t leave me for new friends? Anna said there’s this cult of moms waiting at the park to swoop in and steal you away in their minivans. They’re going to have all kinds of things in common with you that I won’t. You’ll be commiserating over feeding, and diaper blow-outs, and before you know it, you’ll be day-drinking with the mommy-and-me’s and I’ll be making a new Pinterest board of solitaire games called All By Myself.”
Her eyes widen to perfect circles. “I can’t believe you just said that. You are stuck with me for life, and also whatever place comes after that. This friendship is for eternity. As the cool non-mom, it will be your job to keep me up to date on what’s going on in the real world.”
“I can do that.”
We hug as best we
can with her stomach in the way and then she pulls away to ask, “Oh my God, Chloe. Do you have a backup plan for me?”
“No.” I laugh, releasing her. “Actually, you’re the one thing I don’t have one for. Although Anna wants to apply, but pinky-swear I didn’t let her fill out an application.”
She follows me out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where I start whittling away at all of my security nets.
First, I turn off the monster.com notifications for art jobs. I have a business of my own to focus on, and it’s the only job I really want.
Second, on the drive home I swing by It’s Clay Time and officially quit the pottery place to be full-time with Mae’d.
“Obviously, I can never give Mae’d the attention it needs if I’m working full-time,” I tell my boss, who accepts my resignation with teary-eyed grace.
“I understand,” she says. “I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved, Chloe. We’ll miss you, but this job was just a stepping-stone for your art. I’m always here if you need any advice.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll need plenty.”
We hug, and when I leave, my shoulders feel lighter and it’s not as scary as I imagined to not have the security of It’s Clay Time.
At home, I grab my laptop and post a Help Wanted ad of my own…
Seeking part-time help for a booming pottery business—Mae’d With Love.
Qualifications: Must be nice. Everything else is trainable.
(If you don’t like babies, no need to apply. We’ll have one soon.)
Perks: Featuring the possibility of an on-site apartment for a starving artist like I was a year ago.
Wow, just a year ago I was in my tiny cottage, struggling to live within my means. My life has changed so much in twelve months. It’s weird, but the more things I cut loose, the less worried I feel about failure. It’s freeing.
Then I take out my phone. My finger hovers over the FriendsOfFriends app while memories of Finn, Dune, and Ryan take a walk through my mind. I laugh a little to myself at the lengths I went to impress them as I open the app and leave a review.
I won’t be needing you anymore, but I certainly won’t forget you. I didn’t find a winner in love via the site, but I ended up with two really good friends and an amazing Uber driver who shuttled me to and fro between dates. Thanks to you, I realized what I wanted in a relationship, and that what I want matters. Never settle, single people. More than thirty-two million people use dating apps, so don’t give up.
Summer Lovin: A Dating Season Novella Page 7