by Jamie Knight
“So, what’s the long face for?” his mother asked, absently picking up a small plastic tub of gesso to see if it was empty or not.
“I just don’t know. There was a thing. Someone she used to like. He came to my business. Made a scene. I could tell it upset her,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Why don’t you call her?” his mother asked, “and try to straighten it all out? I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
“I tried earlier.”
“Well. Do it again,” she said patiently, in that motherly way of hers, as if referring to trying to ride a bike or tie a shoelace.
“I’m not ready to hear about whatever she chose to do just yet,” he said. “She could do almost anything she wants. She’s got enough money to get started somewhere. She has job offers coming at her every day from all over. She’s gonna be fine no matter what she does.”
“And you?”
“I’m going up to have a shower and get some sleep. I’m getting an electric car for you in the morning. I found one but I need to finalize the deal and pick it up. I need to be well rested to deal with car salesmen. Goodnight, Mom.”
He pecked her on the cheek and went toward the stairs.
“You are staying for dinner Sunday, right?” she called after him.
“A Sunday dinner? Of course I am.”
Chapter 17
Madison, Wisconsin seemed smaller to Tory when she returned after her time in New York City. Her house and her room seem unreasonably small as well, after living in all the space of NextThing.Net’s hotel headquarters when they had been practically empty.
When Jude heard that Tory had come back to Madison, he had called her. Jude seemed alright at home until hearing about how she had left the iGo money behind. He’d launched a rant about the evils of big business and big businessmen and the surrender of freedoms the nationwide lockdowns had caused and about how she should be clinging to that cash in the perilous era to come.
When Jude told her that he was going off to join the anti-lockdown protests in Michigan, Tory had closed her eyes and ended the call. Her mother was off with a group of local women who were bringing meals to the quarantined elderly in the area. Her father was in the garage sipping beers and watching his old TV, which was too tremendous a piece of furniture for him to get rid of.
Needing to be outdoors, Tory put on one of the masks from NextThing.Net and walked the thirty minutes over to her college to see if Bascom Hall, at the center of the University of Wisconsin’s campus, was open. She had no real agenda at Bascom Hall but welcomed the chance just to walk around the familiar Gothic style buildings where she had spent so much of her time.
On the way back, she planned to stop in the supermarket to pick up a few things to prepare for dinner, since it was Mother’s Day.
She was trying to forget about the events of the past and focus on the future. But it was a lot harder than she’d imagined. All she kept thinking about was Harlan.
***
Monday morning, Harlan was feeling numb as the chopper slowly descended over the heliport atop the suite of offices and studios that made up NextThing.Net. Mother’s Day had been nice, quiet. His sister, Jane, had shown up with her new husband, a Las Vegas restaurateur, who just opened a new location a month before the COVID-19 Pandemic and was not very optimistic despite the restaurant’s plans to open even more branches in nearby California.
When Jane asked him about who he was seeing, it was clear that his mother had filled her in on every detail she had managed to extricate from him about Tory, during a few brief sessions in the kitchen.
When Jane had asked where Tory was, Harlan just smiled and said, “She’s probably at her mother’s table tonight, just like you.”
With cities opening and commerce learning to cope, new work was coming in. The big network accounts, especially. Harlan spent the day on his Bluetooth headset fielding calls while working out in the gym.
It was dusk before he went up to the lounge to try relaxing a bit and clearing his head. When he put his phone in its base and prompted Flamma Flamma by Nicholas Lens, he noticed the folded check sticking out from beneath the unit and slowly took it up in his hand and unfolded it.
He started to laugh out loud when he realized that Tory didn’t take the check. He took up the phone again and called Barry Meyerwitz. Looking worried, his face appeared on the phone’s screen and then bounced to the TV as Harlan turned it on.
“So, what’s the status?” his lawyer asked.
“She didn't take the check, Barry,”
“Not enough? What? She wants more?”
“Don't you see what this means?”
“No.”
“She’s not off starting a new life somewhere,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“I, uh...”
“Who's the lawyer?” Barry prompted him.
“I know you’re the lawyer, Mr. Mouthpiece, but I think it means something. She didn't have to leave it here for me to find. She could have ripped it up, given it to Jillian. Payroll is open. She could have done anything!”
“As your lawyer, I advise you to leave this situation alone. Do the right thing for a change.”
“Yeah, Barry. You’re right. The right thing. I should just do the right thing.”
He hung up, deciding to just do that, even though he knew it wasn’t what Barry had meant.
***
In their kitchen, Victoria and her mother, Linda, cooked. Potatoes were boiling to be mashed. Her mother battered and breaded chicken parts as Tory carefully sank the pieces in the hot oil to fry, then placed the cooked meat on a plate covered in paper towels to blot up excess oil.
Not having a genuine plan, she was content to help her mom and didn’t mind the idea of spending time with her and the elders of her community who had always been there for her growing up.
Her mother had known that the crisis in the country had surely changed Tory. She was proud to see her holding it together instead of struggling and complaining about petty personal problems in the midst of the pandemic like so many young people she saw on the news. She was a levelheaded girl who always seemed to find the time to hear another’s problems before considering or even airing her own.
Having heard from the Colemans about Jude breaking quarantine and having had to listen to his concerns several times on the phone, before and after the fact, her mother knew everything. She saw Victoria practically hovering about the house as she had years ago like a child on Christmas Eve, aglow with the belief that there might still be magic in the world.
She knew her daughter was a woman in love.
The roar of a new Ducati’s engine on her hometown street as the motorcycle passed by outside was as alien to Tory as the sleek looking highly polished black cycle she saw turning around at the end of her block. Tory had absent-mindedly walked out the kitchen door and into the street in an apron without saying a word.
She ran back into the kitchen but didn't see her mother.
“Mom!” she called out.
Her mother came from the foyer, with Tory’s light blue suede jacket in hand.
“I….” she started, smiling, “I’m, I need to talk to someone,” she said, slipping out of the apron.
The motorcycle had stopped outside, its engine purring in neutral.
“I know. Just let me know when you get to wherever it is you’re going,” her mother remarked, sounding quite folksy.
“I love you, Mom,” Tory whispered as they hugged.
Outside, Harlan sat on his newest toy, purchased at the closest dealership to the airport, looking at his phone.
“What are you doing out here on that thing?” she called out loudly, so that she would be heard over the motor as she approached.
“I’ve got this great new app. It lets you make plans virtually or in real life with someone, for today, for tomorrow and forever. They called it E-LOPE. Wanna try it out, with me?” Harlan suggested, looking directly into her eyes.
&n
bsp; She straddled the vibrating machine between his legs facing him and said, “I bet the icon is black on black on black on-”
They kissed for the longest time.
Epilogue
In the end, Tory hadn’t been able to actually elope with Harlan, because she knew her parents would be crushed if they weren’t at the wedding. But he had gotten down on one knee with a shiny diamond ring and proposed to her.
“I love you,” he’d said. “And I know I always will. Just don’t run off on me again.”
“I won’t,” she’d promised him, shaking her head. “I just got confused. You were talking to the lawyer, and then Ms. Kalinski claimed that when I had tried to call you earlier, you were buying some car for your mom, and it didn’t sound very realistic…”
“Come on,” he’d said, laughing. “Why not? It was about to be Mother’s Day, after all. Do you think you’re the only person who has a great relationship with your mom?”
“No,” she’d said quickly, feeling guilty for doubting him. “But it was more her tone, as if she was hesitant to tell me.”
“Well, she’s not supposed to tell people what I’m out doing,” he said. “So, she probably didn’t want to get in trouble by disclosing my whereabouts! But you know Ms. Kalinski. She does what she wants. And she knows we are meant to be?”
“We sure are,” she’d said, kissing him. “I love you and I will never run off like that again.”
So now had just gotten married at her hometown church, because it was six months since the quarantine and everything had gotten a lot better. His mom and sister were there, as were her parents.
Even Mahiri had flown in for the celebrations. She had initially been upset with Tory for leaving without saying goodbye, but she eventually came around, and was only happy for her friend. The ceremony was beautiful as the couple exchanged their vows, and the reception was amazing as everyone danced and enjoyed an open bar.
No one had heard anything further from Jude. But his Twitter account had been turned into one for an Incel group who was allegedly working underground – Tory took this to mean from his mom’s basement – to spread the word on why men shouldn’t trust women. She felt bad for him but realized he was no longer her problem. He would have to find his own way in life, just as she had.
Now Harlan and Tory were back in New York City before embarking on their whirlwind world tour of a honeymoon. All the cities she had ever wanted to see were on the list. And she would be traveling to them with Harlan by her side, just as she’d wanted. And she had accepted a job offer, but it was as NextThing.Net’s Chief Operating Officer, and it paid more handsomely than any job she could ever imagine.
“Let’s get out you of that suit,” she said, as soon as they had gotten back to the hotel room. “I can never wait to see that chiseled chest of yours underneath.”
“And I want you out of that dress,” Harlan agreed. “So that I can see your curvy, naked body.”
Once they had undressed, he carried her to the bed and laid her down on top of it. Getting up on top of her, he grinned down into her blue-green eyes, smiling like a kid at Christmas.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told her, “even if the circumstances at the time were less than ideal.”
He kissed her and played with her nipples and her clit while she said, “Same here. I had no idea what life had in store for me but I’m so glad it was this.”
As he pushed his hard and eager cock into her wet pussy, he said, “Fuck yeah. Good girl. My bride is nice and wet for her husband.”
“As always,” she smiled, kissing him passionately.
He thrust in and out of her, playing with her nipples as he did. It was such a slow and tender way to make love that it was perfect for their wedding night.
“I love you,” she said, as she felt him start to pulse and throb inside her.
“I love you, too,” he answered her. “And now I’m going to finally cum in that sweet pussy of yours, because I think it’s time that we started trying to have a baby.”
“Is that so?” she asked, arching her back up to him as she started to feel an orgasm roll through her body.
“It sure is.”
He grunted as he spilled his seed inside her, and she wrapped her legs even tighter around his waist as she received it.
She had never been happier than she was during this moment, but she knew she would continue feeling this way for the rest of their lives together.
THE END
Dating During Lockdown
A Billionaire and Single Mom Quarantine Romance
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Chapter One - Brigid
The sun has always made me happy. Even when I was a kid. I guess that’s because my name is Brigid which means “fire goddess.” I’ve always liked my name, even if it can be annoying to convince people that I hadn’t said ‘Bridget’ when introducing myself.
"No," I would always have to explain, “Brigid, with a ‘d,’ not an ‘e’ and a ‘t’.”
‘That’s odd,” they would say, as though being odd were a bad thing.
“It’s Irish,” I would point out, as though this explained everything.
Of course I knew it was odd.
How could I not, with the constant reminders?
Throw in my last name - hilarious but very real - McHaggis. A gift from my Scots-Irish father. I was in for a right ribbing all through grade school. It only made me stronger, though.
The sun felt good on my skin today, too, as usual.
“Robin!” Polly exclaimed from her stroller, her chubby little finger pointing at a nearby bird.
“Very good,” I praised her.
She didn’t always get the names right, but my little one could identify twelve different types of local fauna and a good amount of the flora to boot. This education was a large part of the reason for our twice-daily walks.
That, and getting my ass back in shape after having a kid. Pregnancy had done wonderful and lasting things for my chest, though.
Not to mention that we were in the middle of a Coronavirus pandemic and the entire city was on lockdown. Walking around was my only way to get out of the house and my only form of entertainment.
The darned and dastardly stone came out of nowhere. I was usually a lot more careful when it came to stroller handling. One small mistake would spell d-i-s-a-s-t-e-r.
Once we hit the stone the wrong way, Polly seemed more stunned than hurt. The stroller went over onto its side, but its metal frame acted kind of like a roll cage in a race car, the grass on the side of the road also helping to break her fall. Thank mercy for green urban engineering!
After a moment’s silence, she started to giggle hysterically, as if she was watching one of her baby song and dance shows. At least she was okay. And seemed like she'd love rollercoasters when she got tall enough to ride them.
Getting the stroller righted was harder than it looked. For a frame of metal with some cloth stretched over it, the thing was bastard heavy, even with little Polly not adding all that much to the overall weight.
“Need a hand?”
I nearly fell over when I looked up at the stranger who had approached us. He was beautiful and built like a Viking, tall and muscled. His clothes trended toward punk: a leather jacket and dark jeans.
His light blonde hair was longish, reaching the top of his collar, but also well tamed, falling in two equal waves that framed his thin, chiseled face. He was riding a fixed-gear bike, like the ones favored in Williamsburg, though he looked to be the farthest thing from a hipster, the tin-can headphones around his neck notwithstanding.
“I-I-I—”
“Erudite,” he teased with a good-natured smile.
“I’m fine. We’re fine, right, Polly?”
“Wheee!” Polly burbled as I got the stroller upright again.
&
nbsp; “Speaks French, does she?”
“And she can identify twelve different kinds of animal,” I boasted.
“Goodness!”
“I think she is going to be a zoologist.”
“Or a zoo-keeper. Either way, it’s great,” the beautiful stranger said, smiling in a way that made me want to plant my lips on his.
“I’m Brigid.”
“The Irish goddess of fire.”
“Among other things,” I said, unable to resist.
I was impressed that he knew about the origin of my name. But I was trying to act cool, calm and collected, especially since I had just taken a tumble from which I was trying to recover.
“I’m Leif.”
“Erikson?”
“Distantly related. And this is?”
“Polly.”
“Hello, Polly,” Leif said, waving from a distance, respecting the current COVID-19 suggested guidelines.
Polly gave a baby wave in return, somewhat to my surprise, because she didn’t usually like strangers. She was barely able to stand my sister, Meegan. Though that was far from unusual. My dear blood-relation had all the personal charm and social grace of a bog viper.
“I think she likes you,” I observed.
“Clever girl.”
“She is,” I confirmed.
“Is she the only one?”
“Who’s clever?”
“Who likes me.”
He smirked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, still trying to play it cool.
“Fair enough. I have to be going. Can I get your number?”
My mind was screaming at me to say no. I didn’t know him. Yeah, he was hot, and I was really lonely and hadn't touched a guy in longer than I dared think about, but he didn’t know that.
For all he knew I could be married. It took a hell of a lot of front for him to even ask for my number. Particularly so soon after meeting. So why did I still find him so fucking attractive?