Until My Last Breath

by Tiffany Patterson

  “Hi, princess.”

  I softened just a little bit at the moniker. Conceited bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Now break up with Colin.”

  “Co—”

  His hand sliced through the air, indicating that it would not be in my best interest to complete his name.

  “Robert, we—” Again my statement was cut off when Robert wrapped both of his hands around the sides of my face and pulled me into a kiss. Our first in five years.

  I knew it was wrong. I was in a committed relationship. I loved Cohen. I thought.

  But when Robert pressed our lips together, I released a breath that I felt like I’d been holding for eternity. Or for a half a decade.

  I melted against his body, parting my lips and moaning when his tongue first made contact with mine. He tasted like a place I’d only been to once, but had always wanted to return to and bury myself into forever.

  We kissed, forgetting our need for oxygen, while Robert’s hands trailed up and down the sides of my waist. He was getting reacquainted with my body, and God if it didn’t turn me the hell on. His kiss flowed between impatient and needy to slow and seductive. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into me.

  I startled when my back was pressed against my door.

  Robert’s hands sunk to the tops of my sweatpants.

  That was when my common sense returned. I covered his hands with mine, pulling away from the kiss, panting as my lungs desperately searched for air.

  “Robert, we can’t.”

  His jaw tightened, jaw flexing.

  When I pushed away from him, my body was shaky and I hugged myself, running my hands up and down my arms, all of a sudden feeling cold without his embrace.

  “I can’t just break up with someone I’ve been with for two years just because you say so,” I insisted, trying to sound confident in my decision. “It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

  “Fuck fair,” he growled.

  My shoulders pulled downward as I dropped my hands to my sides. “What do you mean fuck fair? You can’t always get what you want.”

  “I mean exactly what I said. Fuck fair.”

  “Robert.”

  “Fine. You want to talk about fairness. Is it fair to him that you’re thinking of me whenever he kisses you, touches you? Does he know that even after five years, you still lay in bed at night thinking of me? Using those dainty little fingers of yours to make that pretty pussy come in only the way I can make it come? Does he know that?”

  I gasped, my eyes going wide with embarrassment at his words. “Get out!” I yelled.

  He’d made me feel completely exposed. Because as much as I hated to admit it, he was right, but my pride got in the way of me admitting it.

  “He’s fucking lame. Not half the man you deserve. You know it. I know it. And he knows it.”

  “Oh, and you’re the whole man I deserve?”

  “No …” He replied, surprising me. “But I am the man that will have you screaming my name, calling out for me in the middle of the night, and wearing my ring and last name until we both take our final breath on this earth. I’m also the man who’ll kill anyone who tries to get in the way of our future. So break up with him, for his sake, because he’d never survive my wrath.”

  I shook my head, not wanting to take in what he was saying. “You wouldn’t.”

  He stepped closer, menacingly close. “Princess, not only would I, but I’d fucking enjoy it. How’s that for fair?”

  I closed my eyes, needing a moment to think because while I normally considered myself a morally upstanding citizen, the fact that Robert was standing in front of me declaring that he would literally take another man’s life, was kind of a turn on.

  It was right then that I started to realize I would likely be going to hell for this man.

  I opened my eyes to find Robert’s on me, peering down at me, through me. He was awaiting my decision.

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I-I’ll break up with Co— him but we can’t sleep together until I do.”

  I swallowed, relieved at having made that decision. Truth be told, Cohen and my relationship had been over for a while now. I wasn’t sure exactly when it happened … hell, truth be told, it was likely doomed from the very beginning. Because compared to Robert Townsend there was no other man. He’d ruined me for everyone who came after him.

  And as he moved closer like a panther stalking its prey, I knew he knew it.

  “That’s fair,” he stated cockily while wrapping his left hand around the side of my face, pulling me into him for another kiss.

  I wouldn’t let my mind think about everything else he’d said. The mention he’d made about marrying me, or even the four children he spoke of having, after that first night together. No. I didn’t need to think about all of that. For the moment, I could just soak up the beautiful feeling of his kiss, the embrace of his arms and being in his presence, and the strength and protection it afforded my own peace of mind.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked as I pulled from his embrace. I needed to break the kiss because as much as I wanted to be fair to Cohen, I couldn’t do so if he was going to keep kissing me.

  Robert stared at me for a few heartbeats before finally releasing a breath. “Sure. What do you have?” He began removing his suit jacket.

  “Campbell’s tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

  I tilted my head when his forehead creased, looking disappointed. “What?”

  “Campbell’s soup? That’s crap.”

  A laugh burst from my lips. “We weren’t all raised with a silver spoon, Townsend.”

  He frowned.

  “I’ll pretty it up a little for you, and it pairs well with my grilled cheese. I’ll even let you choose which cheese we’ll have on our sandwiches.” I glanced back over my shoulder before padding over my wooden floors toward my tiny kitchen.

  My apartment wasn’t too big, only about five hundred square feet. But I’d sacrificed size to be closer to my work. From my apartment to my job it only took about twenty minutes to walk—obviously, it was much shorter if I chose to drive, which I did only during inclement weather.

  “You have more than one cheese option?” he asked from behind me, his warm breath moving over the back of my neck.

  “Yes,” I responded airily. Pulling the door of my ugly green refrigerator open, I bent over to seek out the cheese options I had. “There’s a little grocer about halfway between my place and work. I stop there a couple of times a month. They have the best specialty foods, cheese being one of them.” I placed the cheeses on the countertop. “I have goat cheese, havarti, gouda—”

  “Gouda? For grilled cheese?”

  “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. But, in my opinion, you really can’t go wrong with sharp cheddar.” I held up the fresh round of cheddar I’d gotten on my way home from work just that evening.

  “Cheddar.”

  I grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” I loved the other options but had had my heart set on the cheddar.

  “You need some help?”

  I pivoted, looking back at him and pausing from slicing the cheddar cheese on my cutting board. “You cook?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just thought I should ask to be polite.”

  I giggled. “Thanks for offering.” I placed the remaining cheeses in the refrigerator and pulled out the European butter I’d also gotten from the grocer that evening.

  “How’s everything at work?” I asked, making conversation as my hands busily assembled our sandwiches and I began heating the cast iron skillet to melt the butter.

  “There’s another leak,” he answered grimly.

  I glanced back over my shoulder to see the hard expression that covered his face. Robert had told me about some of the leaks that had been plaguing Townsend Industries for some time now.

  “You still have no idea who it is?”

  “I have some names in mind. I’m going to have a guy I know l
ook into it.”

  “A guy you know? That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” I teased.

  Robert just shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  He moved closer to me as I began adding the Italian spices to the warming tomato soup.

  “You buy high end cheeses and butter from a European grocer, high quality bread from its bakery, all to make your grill cheese and pair it with what? A ten cent can of soup?”

  Smirking at his observation, I plated our sandwiches, cutting them on a diagonal, and poured the soup into two bowls before handing him his plate. I followed him to my dining space which was just off the kitchen, right next to the window that gave us a view of some of Williamsport downtown area.

  “I guess my food is a reflection of my life.”

  Robert paused in chewing, giving me a curious stare.

  I gestured with my head to the soup in front of him. “I grew up on Campbell’s. When my mother could afford it, she would buy cans and cans of it. Only on a handful of occasions did we ever have enough for grilled cheese and soup, but I loved it when we did. Today, I can afford the soup and grilled cheese. I just get better quality cheese. I hated that rubbery American cheese the government sponsored programs would always give us.” I made a disgusted face.

  “It reminds you of home.”

  I looked out of the window. “A little, I guess.” I’d never really even thought of it but it was true.

  “You don’t have to feel guilty for making it out of poverty.”

  I turned sharply to Robert, eyebrows furrowed. But he wasn’t put off by my reaction to his statement.

  “It’s true. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. Your parents worked and even died to give you a better life. You owe it to them to live it.”

  I placed my half a sandwich back down on my plate. I’d never revealed those feelings to anyone.

  “I know that,” I stated, my voice low. “But it feels odd or like I’m betraying them sometimes. I still haven’t gone back home since I left. I’ve never been to the place where my mother is buried. I make in a month what my mother used to make in a year. Just saying that out loud almost takes my breath away. I sit in meetings with the CFO of our company and sometimes think, how did I get here?”

  “It’s where you were meant to be.”

  I swallowed, picking up my sandwich again and taking another bite. I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Somehow, Robert just got me and that made it so much easier for me to relax. To not have to pretend to be one way or another. And while he was overbearing at some moments, at others, he gave me the space and freedom to be exactly whoever it was I needed to be.

  “I have to head out of town tomorrow for an overnight work trip to New York. I’ll be back Thursday evening. We’ll have dinner,” he stated, standing by the door. It was nearly ten o’clock at night, and while I didn’t want him to go, I couldn’t let him stay. Not like this. Not while I still had to deal with Cohen.

  I nodded. “It’s a date.”

  A smile touched his lips and he advanced on me, taking my lips in a sizzling kiss. Again his hands rose to cup my face. “Remind me again why I can’t have you tonight.”

  Sighing, I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “Because it wouldn’t be right.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I respect your loyalty. It makes me love you even more … but I loathe that your loyalty is to him.”

  “It’s not to him. It’s to us. We can’t start our relationship off being deceitful.”

  Robert’s response was quick. “Our relationship started over five years ago, so technically speaking, you are being disloyal to us.”

  I pulled back, grinning. “Like you haven’t been with any other women in the past five years.”

  For the first time ever, I saw Robert’s eyes shuttered and evade mine. “Point made,” he finally responded.

  “Dinner. Thursday. I’ll pick you up.”

  I nodded, knowing what he was leaving unsaid: breakup with Cohen by the time he got back from his business trip.

  ****

  Present

  Kayla

  “And did you? Break up with him?” I questioned as I walked my mother-in-law to the front door. She’d stopped by and had lunch with my mother and I while Josh had to go into the office for a few hours. My mother had left about thirty minutes ago, and I’d damn near begged Deborah to share more of her and Robert’s story with me.

  Deborah looked down at my daughter, Victoria, bouncing her on her hip, and replied, “I sure did.”

  We both laughed.

  “Cohen was no match for Robert.”

  She shook her head. “None at all. But, surprisingly, it would take him a little while to learn that lesson.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, what happened?” I squealed, wanting to hear the rest of this story.

  “Unh unh.” Deborah shook her head. “You’ve got enough of the story out of me. It’s time for me to take my granddaughters out for our girls’ day. I need to go pick up Kennedy and Annalise. Can you believe out of my ten grandchildren only three of them are girls?” She cooed to Victoria, tickling her under her plump cheek.

  I smiled wide at the sounds of Victoria’s laughter.

  “I’m sure you’ll have more granddaughters sometime soon.”

  Deborah’s head popped up. “Are you? Have you heard something?” she questioned excitedly.

  “No.” I shook my head adamantly. “I’m not and I haven’t heard. I was just saying …” I kept to myself that the way Joshua kept hounding me, I was sure we’d have another baby within the next year.

  “Okay then. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  Smiling, I pressed a kiss to Victoria’s caramel-colored cheek and ran my hand through her silky straight hair. After handing Deb the diaper bag, stuffed with everything she might need, I held the door open for them. I’d already told her how brave I thought she was going out alone with all three girls. Well, alone, aside from her her security guard.

  I shut the door behind them, and prepared to go up to my own office and read over some files before Joshua got home.

  “Oh shit!” I startled, turning and swinging wildly at whoever was behind me. When I finally laid eyes on my handsome husband, instead of giving him a warm greeting, I punched his shoulder.

  “Ouch!” he yelped. “You’re right cross is getting better,” he stated immediately after.

  I bowed my head. “Thank you. I have a good teacher. But don’t scare me like that again.” I pointed at him before moving into his arms.

  “Noted,” he murmured in my ear and then pulling back to kiss my lips.

  “Did you get that issue resolved?” I questioned on a raised eyebrow.

  “The venue has finally been booked.”

  I clapped. “Good. The girls will be so happy once I tell them.”

  Josh nodded. “Thank you for loving my parents as much as I do.”

  I cupped my husband’s cheek. “How could I not? They raised you and you are my everything.”

  His lips covered mine in an instant. I moaned into his mouth, feeling swept away. It took me a second to realize that I had literally been picked up off the ground and carried to my desk.

  “Wait! No,” I yelped when I heard papers and the files that’d been there hitting the floor.

  “Kay—”

  “No, wait. These are important,” I stated, pushing an agitated Joshua away so that I could bend down to pick up the discarded files.

  “What is all of this?” he asked, crouching low to help me pick everything up.

  “It’s reports and journal articles I’ve been gathering for my research on maternal mortality rates.”

  Josh looked puzzled as we both stood. “Mortality rates?”

  I inclined my head. “Yes. After what happened to Patience when the twins were born I got to thinking. Hers wasn’t the first story I heard either. Within the last year superstars like Serena Williams and even Beyoncé have spoken out on either almost dying or d
ealing with some sort of health scare while giving birth. From what I’ve read, it’s no stretch to say that the U.S. has the worst maternal mortality rate in the developed world, and it’s getting worse, not better.”

  I paused to breathe. Talking about this topic was something that got me really worked up. Not only as a new mother, but as a woman who almost lost her sister-in-law due to the same issue.

  “I assume you’re not researching just to research.”

  I smiled. “You assume correctly, husband of mine. I want … no, need to do something about it. Even if only in my neck of the woods. At the shelter I want to hire staff to give birthing classes, discuss maternal health, and provide prenatal care to some extent. And I’ve also been thinking of becoming certified as a doula.”

  “What the hell is a doula?”

  “It’s a person who acts as an advocate for a birthing mother. They help provide a calming atmosphere and tend to any needs of the woman in labor. Also, they can communicate the mother’s wishes to the medical staff in the event that she can’t. For example, many women want to have an unmedicated birth but sometimes they are pressured to be induced with medications by hospital staff that might be overworked and just want to deliver the baby to get it over with. The doula steps in so mom doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision she doesn’t want.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. There’s a lot more that goes into it also, but those are some of the basics.”

  “Sounds interesting. Would you need to go to school for this?”

  I nodded. “There is no strict requirement for certification, but I would get certified and registered with one of the major doula organizations. While it takes some up to two years to get through all of the courses and become certified, my medical background would allow me to be fast tracked so it wouldn’t take as long.”

  Josh glanced from the papers in his hand up to my face. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

  “I have. Every time I looked at Victoria over the last few months, I kept thinking about the mothers who never make it home, or who die in the months after their baby is born, leaving them motherless. It makes my heart ache.” I rubbed the left side of my chest, feeling that ache again from just talking about the subject.