All ONES: The Complete Collection

by Aleatha Romig

  “I hate to be the one to mention this,” Ms. DeVoe said, “but the amount of time you’re missing from work lately is becoming unacceptable.”

  I sat forward. “My job isn’t going undone. You’re aware that there have been—”

  “Part of your job is being here from eight until five. Things come up. You can’t simply skimp on your job to finish tasks when you’re not putting in the time that’s required...that’s expected.”

  “I don’t skimp. You know that I’m often here after five.”

  “You’ve also missed significant chunks of time over the last few weeks...”

  “I explained that my son is having—”

  “I’m not asking you to make a choice between your job and your son. I’m sure it’s not easy being a single mom.”

  With my pulse thumping, I simply replied, “Good.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said good. I’m glad you’re not asking me to make a choice.”

  “Amanda, when you’re present you do excellent work. You make a good salary and have health benefits for you and your son. You need this job.”

  I do, she’s right, but the truth is that Jase is covered under his father’s military benefits. However, I do still need this job.

  “...it needs to stop, now. No more unscheduled time off.”

  “But tomorrow—”

  Ms. DeVoe’s hand went in the air, stopping me before I could explain about my meeting with the principal and how tomorrow morning I would need to take Jase to school...before I could explain that for the first time since kindergarten began, I had hope.

  “No, not tomorrow,” she said with a tone of ultimatum. “If you plan to continue working here, you will not miss the meetings we have scheduled for the next three days. You know that every year we hold these meetings with our health insurance provider, going over the new plans for next year and all of our employee options. The mandatory sign-up is coming November first. It’s your responsibility to know the plans inside and out, and this is the time.” She leaned forward. “Tell me you didn’t forget.”

  I didn’t, but I did.

  Instead of answering, I said, “His school starts at nine. I can be here by ten.”

  “I’ll see you at eight sharp tomorrow morning—and check your computer. I’ve sent you a list of projects that need your immediate attention.”

  “Ms. DeVoe—”

  She’d already turned away toward her computer. At the sound of her name, her neck straightened, and she turned back to me. “Is there anything else, Ms. Wells?”

  Even imagining her as Glenn Close with a big hideous smile couldn’t take away my hurt and anger. All the way from Jase’s school to work I’d been encouraged and even excited. And in a matter of minutes with my manager, my entire world was caving in.

  As I left her office, I knew what I would do...what I would do again. I’d ask my mom to take my place. I hated that. I knew she would, but she shouldn’t have to. Of course, I thought of Jackson.

  If only...

  And then my mind somehow went to Malcolm. I could never ask him. He has his own job, his own career. Even if things were different...it wouldn’t be his responsibility to help Jase’s transition at school.

  Throughout the day I gritted my teeth and tried to remember puppies. I tried to remember Mr. P.’s classroom...and by gosh, I did everything—every damn thing—on Cruella de Vil’s list and everything else she came up with, including adding plant-feeding sticks to her precious plants.

  Apparently, Phil is still having some erection issues and she hopes the vitamin sticks will help.

  Now that I am on my way to pick up Jase at my parents’, I’m once again upset. I’ve already called Mom and of course she said yes, but that doesn’t ease my anger at the unfairness.

  As I pull into my parents’ driveway, I see Jase in the garage with my dad. The large door is open and they’re over by my dad’s workbench. Getting out of my car, I start walking their direction when Jase turns. With a big smile on his face, he runs toward me, and small arms encircle my waist.

  “Mom, you can’t look.”

  “I can’t? At what?”

  “Grandpa and I are making you something special. It’s a surprise.”

  I look over at my dad. He’s shaking his head with a big smile.

  “Thanks, Dad. You know how I love surprises.”

  “This one you will. Go see your mom.” He waves me toward the house. “Us men are busy.”

  “Yep, us men,” Jase repeats.

  I give each man a kiss on the cheek and head inside.

  “Oh, Amanda,” my mom says as soon as she hears me enter.

  Their house smells heavenly of whatever she’s cooking for dinner. Why does someone else’s cooking always smell so marvelous?

  “What’s the matter?” I ask.

  “Come, let’s sit down.”

  It’s never a good sign when my mom wants to sit. So many things can be said standing. It’s only the important or possibly upsetting things that require sitting. “Is it you or Dad? How about Alec? Is everyone all right?”

  “No, dear, it’s nothing like that,” she says as she walks to the table with two cups of tea. “Here, it’s getting cold out there. Warm tea always makes things better.”

  “Mom, is this about tomorrow?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Are you unable to go with him?” I hear the panic in my own tone. To hell with my job. If my mom can’t go, I will. Let the chips fall where they may.

  “Of course I can go to Jase’s school. I just wanted to show you a note from Mrs. Williams. It was addressed to you. I’m sorry I opened it, but after your call and what you said about your meeting with the principal, I thought...well, the truth is I was curious.”

  I slowly reach for the envelope. That’s another bad sign. A note that says Hey, your child is doing great doesn’t come in an envelope. I remove the page of paper and begin to read.

  Mrs. Harrison,

  I look up. “I’ve told that woman a hundred times my name is Wells.”

  “Some people have difficulty with that.”

  “Obviously,” I say before I go back to reading.

  Mrs. Harrison,

  Today was a particularly trying day with Jason. Though he obviously knows the material, he refused to participate in class, saying he was tired. I sent him to the nurse’s office, but after a few minutes he returned. During rest time, he was no longer tired, but rambunctious.

  In my experience, I have seen this situation helped with a doctor’s intervention.

  I will be sending a recommendation in the next day. Please consider this option for the future success of Jason’s educational experience.

  Mrs. Williams

  “What?” I ask. “She thinks he needs a doctor. Why?”

  “I can only assume to settle him down.”

  “No.”

  My mom reaches out, and her hand covers mine. “Honey, I don’t think it’s out of the question. It’s very helpful for some children. However, I think she didn’t know yet about the class change. In my opinion, this class change may be the best thing for Jase. You can keep the possibility of seeing a doctor in mind if the change in classrooms doesn’t work, but didn’t you say this other teacher has a different strategy?”

  I lean my forehead down to the table. My voice is muffled. “Mom, this is so hard.”

  She touches my hair. “No one said parenting was easy.”

  I look back up. “But it’s not supposed to be done alone...”

  “You’re not alone. I’m here. Your dad is here. And what about Malcolm, that man you’ve been seeing?”

  As opposed to another Malcolm?

  I don’t even answer. She knows how I feel about that. Instead, I focus on the new classroom. “Mrs. Landecker said the new classroom is organized- or managed-chaos, but it works. Did I tell you the teacher is a man?”

  Mom leans back against the kitchen chair and smiles. It’s closed lip, like she does w
hen she’s contemplating. “That might be just what the doctor ordered.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s what Mrs. Williams had in mind.”

  Mom looks toward the door that leads to the garage, making sure we’re alone. “That woman’s an old biddy with antiquated notions. She needs to retire. I like what Mrs. Landecker has in mind. It certainly can’t hurt to try.”

  I finally reach for my tea. “I hope so.”

  “Will you and Jase stay for dinner? I made plenty.”

  “Does he have any homework?” It’s silly to me that kindergarteners have homework, but he does.

  “It’s all done. That’s how I found the note.”

  “I have food at home to cook.”

  “And I have food here that’s already cooked,” she says with a bigger grin.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Malcolm

  I can’t take my eyes off of Mandy. She’s gorgeous and so fucking fuckable. The way the brown waves of her silky hair spill over my pillow and her bruised lips lift to a sexy-as-hell smile makes me perpetually hard. Having her ride my dick in the front seat of her car was exhilarating, but that’s not the kind of woman she is.

  Mandy Wells is a thousand-count Egyptian sheets, brass bed, and soft piped-in music kind of woman. She’s the best life has to offer...She’s champagne and caviar.

  Maybe champagne and pizza. Okay, wine and pizza. Fine, wine and great pizza.

  That's okay. I prefer her that way.

  Since we’ve been seeing each other, each time together is something new. Mandy is spontaneous, sexy, and responsive as hell. She's also responsible and caring. She’s all of those things wrapped into one beautiful package. Whether she’s thinking about her responsibilities or enjoying an outing on the Gulf of Mexico, she’s everything I never knew I wanted.

  As her eyes close and her smile rests, I crawl over her luscious body, covering it with mine. Even with the outside temperature dropping, she doesn’t need blankets—I’ll be her blanket. My cock twitches as it grows and rubs against her thighs.

  Her gorgeous blue eyes open. “Malcolm, umm, didn’t we just do that?”

  “Didn’t I just fuck you until you screamed every cuss word I’ve ever heard?”

  Her cheeks rise. “I bet you’ve heard others.”

  “Nope. And I spent six years in a locker room. That is very impressive, Ms. Wells.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating…”

  Her words trail away as the tip of my hard cock teases her folds and her legs slowly part. She is right. We did just do this, but damn, with her beside me, I’m hard again.

  I know there’s been things happening with her son, things that have been worrying her, but as of yet, she hasn’t trusted me with that side of her life. I understand. I’ll take what I can get. Right now, Mandy's in my bed and I want to be inside her, buried in her wet, warm heaven. I want to make her forget whatever else in this world is bothering her.

  “Happy anniversary,” I whisper as I sink deep inside her.

  She stutters as her back arches and her lips form that adorable ‘O.’ “W-what anniversary?”

  “We met three months ago, today.”

  I bask in her smile as she wiggles and moves with my rhythm.

  During those three months, we’ve stolen moments to be together whenever we could. Only that one time did I have her for an entire weekend. I’ve been wracking my brain for ideas on how to do it again.

  I long for nights like this when she can be in my bed, when we have more than an hour here or two there. I’m addicted to her presence, not only in my bed, but in my life. I long to have her on the sidelines when my team plays soccer, beside me at school functions...beside me in life. I fantasize about flying her to Florida again, but this time to meet my parents and catch another Lightning game.

  I’ve never known a woman like Mandy—Amanda—before. I’ve never wanted to spend my time with the same woman, yet I miss her every second we’re apart. She’s my drug and I’m addicted, enthralled by her zeal for life.

  Her fingernails bite into the skin of my back as I pump harder. The way her pussy hugs my dick is also addicting. I tell myself we’ll only go out to dinner, to the movies, or for drinks. Mandy agrees, and then…

  We find ourselves connected, me inside her, her surrounding me, her gorgeous tits in my face, and her essence covering my fingers, tongue, and cock. Thank goodness she finally told me she was on birth control and we agreed to be as close as possible. The way she said it, it almost seemed like a new development, but how could a woman like Mandy not be on birth control?

  Our world shakes as her entire body stiffens. I open my eyes.

  It’s one of my favorite views, watching her come. I love the way for a moment everything else in the world disappears, and she enjoys the pleasure inside her.

  I kiss her nose. “You’re amazing.”

  Mandy shakes her head. “I think that’s you.”

  Though I don’t want to, I ease out of her. “I wish you’d stay all night.”

  “My son is spending the night with my parents, but I need to be there in the morning.”

  I reach for her hand. “What happened to his dad?”

  The happiness of a moment ago is gone. I haven't pushed, but it's been three months and I want to know.

  “Malcolm...”

  “Beautiful, I'm not going anywhere. There’s nothing you can say that will scare me away.”

  Her lips disappear between her teeth, one by one, as she contemplates telling me her story. I pull her close, her cheek to my chest, and wait. With the comfort of the soft sheet and blanket over our bodies, we lie in the stillness for what seems like an eternity. Only the sound of our breathing and the light hum of the furnace warming the apartment fill the air.

  I have ideas about what could have happened to her son’s father. Maybe he’s a jerk and didn’t want kids. Maybe he’s in prison. What I didn’t anticipate was the reality.

  Mandy speaks quietly, replacing the rhythm of our breaths with the awful truth. “He was killed by an IED.”

  I feel like a jerk with the scenarios I'd imagined. None of them had included her being a widow. Then again, what she just said makes sense. I couldn’t imagine any man willingly leaving this beautiful woman, not her and not a kid. As her shoulders shudder, I kiss the top of her head, tasting the hair spray and shampoo. “I’m sorry. Thank you for telling me.”

  I pull her tighter as her pain—her loss—emanates from her every pore. It’s a dense cloud surrounding us. It’s not pretty. But life isn’t always pretty. This is the truth I want to share, the reality I want to navigate beside her, if she’ll allow me.

  After another long pause, she speaks again, “You’re the first...the only...other than him. I know we started this sex thing fast, but I hadn’t...not in five years.”

  I run my hand over her hair, smoothing the waves and wanting her to know how much I care for her. Hell, it’s more than care. Over the past three months I’ve fallen in love with her. I hug her tighter. “So the birth control?”

  “I never needed it.”

  “I never thought you slept around.”

  She lifts her tearstained cheeks. “Really? We did it in the front seat of my car on our second date.”

  My grin broadens. “We did and in my apartment the first night we met. I'll never forget either time. You were fantastic. I love it when you ride my cock.”

  “You do?”

  The way she asks brings my body back to life one more time. “I do. I love the way your tits bounce in my face and the way your knees squeeze my hips.”

  Mandy shakes her head as she pushes herself up. “You know I’m tired, right?”

  “I know you love to ride my cock as much as I love having you do it.”

  “Fuck,” she mumbles as she moves and straddles my hips.

  “No, beautiful. You’re supposed to save the cussing for when you come apart.”

  “Be
cause you’re confident enough to think you can make me do that for a third time tonight?”

  I reach down and position my now-hard-again dick at her pussy. Before entering, I say, “No, not confident—cocky enough.”

  “Yes, Mr. Peppernick, you are cock—”

  My dick interrupts her smart remark as it slides into its favorite place on earth.

  "Oh fuck!" she gasps as her neck stretches and her tits fill my vision.

  With her hands on my shoulders and tits in my face, Mandy moves up and down, slow at first, adjusting and accommodating. Her pussy is like a glove—two sizes too small—that fits perfectly around me. It may seem like the timing sucks, but in reality, it feels like part of the process, her process. Her moving through the cloud of hurt and sorrow, maybe for once accepting that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

  There’s something about this time, slow, with her in total control, that seems to satisfy her in a way words can’t. I want Mandy to know she’s safe with me, her stories and her heart. We can take it slow or fast, whatever she wants.

  When we finally settle again, I kiss her hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think sorry is what you meant. You meant, damn, Mandy, that was great.”

  I scoff. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry about your son’s dad.”

  “My husband...” she clarifies before going on. “We were married for only two years, but we were together forever. He was my brother’s best friend. From the time we were all little kids, he was always around...”

  In my darkened bedroom, we lie awake for hours as she talks. For three months I couldn’t get her to tell me anything, and in one night I’m hearing it all. Her life, words, and emotions are fully on display. In many ways, she’s more exposed than she was that first night. Story after story comes forth, one ending as another begins. With each one, Mandy lets me into her life and her heart; though her son is mentioned, it’s her husband’s name I learn. Through it all I hear how much she loved Jackson, how they loved one another. Theirs was something special. It was that once-in-a-lifetime attraction that’s meant to be forever. My heart breaks as she recalls him leaving after their son’s birth, his promise to return, and the fateful knock on her door. While it hurts to hear her pain, I like that she doesn’t hold back.