I'll Catch You

by Lauren Milson

  “I’m coming, Peter,” I declare to him breathlessly. “God, you feel so good inside me.”

  “Are you on anything?”

  “Yes,” I moan.

  “Fuck. You’re flushing them tonight.”

  Pure bliss settles inside me, tickles my toes, kisses my forehead, wraps me up tight. One hand comes to my throat at the other keeps strumming my clit. My man’s movements are smooth, fast, hard, and he puts his thumb between my lips and I moan around it as I feel his cock explode inside me. Deep inside, where no one’s ever been. Right against my womb, where I know I’ll make a home for our love.

  I shudder out a deep breath when we finally both come down and he lays me down next to him. He wraps his arm around me without leaving and I drift off into a deep, blissful haze nuzzled up against my man, window open, warm breeze against my skin, his lips on my shoulder.

  “I’ve fallen for you, Claire.”

  “Then that means we’ve both fallen,” I whisper. He puts another kiss on my shoulder as I fall into sleep.

  Epilogue - Peter

  Three Months Later

  “What’s the point of locking something up if you can’t unlock the thing you locked to get to the thing you locked it in?” Cassie asks no one in particular as Mike and I drag the heavy cabinet away from the wall.

  “I almost never understand what you’re talking about,” Mike tells her. He lets out a deep breath as I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

  “I mean why would you lock something away if you don’t have the key? You don’t lock something up because you want to keep it away forever. You lock it up for safekeeping, until you need it again.” She flops onto the couch. Brynn is coloring. She loves to color. I gave her a Rush coloring book and I’ve commissioned a few pieces from her. The sun is setting and soon it’ll be time for me and her to go out and catch fireflies. It’s her favorite.

  “There was a key at some point,” I reply. I grunt as Mike and I take another stab at moving the cabinet. It’s the one against the wall of our living room on the left side of the big sliding window out to the back deck. I’ve probably spent hours over the last few months looking at it. It’s where Claire’s dad, who I feel like I actually know, kept all of his treasures. It’s where he still keeps them. I wish I could have met him. He sounds like an incredible man. I wish I could have met her mom and sister of course, too.

  All of Claire’s family is incredible. They’re not perfect. Claire is impatient. She likes to see results right away. Cassie talks too much. She’ll tell you her whole life story after ten minutes. Mike actually might be perfect. The only thing wrong with Brynn is that she won’t eat lobster and only likes chicken nuggets, fries, chicken cutlets and macaroni and cheese from Crabby’s. She was one of the executive taste-testers when I started flying in chefs from all over the world to do a sample tasting to become one of the chefs-in-residence when Crabby’s flips to it’s alter-ego on Thursday nights.

  “If we can just get this thing away from the wall we can remove the glass panel from the back.” Mike and I give it one more tug and we’re able to move it enough that we can get back there so I can retrieve the engagement ring inside.

  “What the hell are you guys doing in there?” Claire calls from the kitchen. She’s making a batch of her grandmother’s fish batter and when she’s on a job she doesn’t like to take breaks. Thankfully, that’s kept her in the kitchen and away from the scheme I have cooking up in here with Cassie and Mike.

  I grab the electric screwdriver from Mike’s tool kit and then decide to go with the non-electric so Claire doesn’t get too curious and come in here. I’m able to remove the glass pane with Mike’s help and I carefully remove the ring from the display. Cassie comes over and regards it with approval.

  “You’re a good man,” she says to me, putting a hand on my back. “She’s going to love this.”

  Mike comes over and wraps his wife up in a hug as I call for Claire to come join me.

  “Hey Claire, I want you to come look at something.” I slide the door open and she appears behind me, blowing a lock of her curly dark hair away from her forehead. She doesn’t even notice that the cabinet’s not where it should be. She marches back into the kitchen and I hear her washing her hands. “Come on,” I goad her.

  “I’m coming!” She joins me back in the living room and follows me outside and onto the back porch. I take her by the hand and walk her down onto the beach. “What are you doing?”

  I could have gotten the ring professionally cleaned and polished. I could have gotten it sized and set with a new, bigger diamond. But I know that’s not what Claire wants. I know she wants her man to propose with this ring, exactly how it is, in the exact condition it was in the moment it went into that display case. Exactly how it was when her dad found it. Exactly how it was the last time he saw it. Exactly how it was the last time she touched it. So that’s what I’m going to do.

  “Claire,” I say, peering down into her big, blue eyes. I tuck her hair behind her ear and let out a deep breath, taking her hands in mine. “I have a proposition for you. I want you to make me the happiest man in the world. But even more than that, I want you to let me spend every single day making sure you are taken care of. Loved more than you could have ever thought possible. Cherished the way you deserve and given every happiness you could ever search for. Let me find your happiness with you. Let me go out and chase it with you and then come back home and let you experience it. I’m so in love with you. And I know I’m going to be in love with you tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.”

  Her hands are against her chest now. Mine are still wrapped around them when tears start to spring at the corners of her eyes and she opens her lips to speak.

  “Is there any room for negotiation? You know my mother always told me that it’s not really a negotiation unless both parties come away feeling like they’ve given up a little bit of their soul.”

  “Lucky for you, this isn’t a negotiation. We will be equals and partners in all things. Take it or leave it.”

  I get down on my knee and pull the ring from my pocket.

  “Claire Beacon, marry me.”

  She wraps her arms around my neck and I feel her tears against my shoulder. I hold her close and tight and it’s still not close enough. I pull away from her so I can slip the ring on her finger and I watch her eyes as she looks down at it in awe.

  “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, Peter. Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

  I tip her chin up, press my lips to hers, and taste her tears. I will kiss them away. I will wipe them away. She can use me as her tissue. She can keep me as her shield. I wrap her in my arms and tell her I love her for the first time with the ring on her finger.

  “I love you so damn much, Claire.”

  “Peter. I love you so damn much too.”

  Epilogue - Claire

  Ten Years and Nine Months Later

  “Brynn!” Peter yells from the front door as I fix his tie. “Let’s freaking go. You’re going to be late for your own graduation.”

  “Sorry!” I hear her yell from the kitchen. There’s a clamor of dishes and the sound of running water before she appears at the doorway, discovers she’s still wearing an oven mitt, and then turns around to throw it in the general direction of the kitchen table.

  “Did you get the right balance of salt and pepper for the deviled eggs?” Peter asks her as I smooth her dress out on her shoulders.

  “Yes, Pa,” she says. “Thank you. I learned from the best.”

  A small smile tugs across her lips. She goes to grab her purse from the couch and pulls out an envelope.

  “What is this?” I ask, snatching it from her.

  “Open it,” she shrugs, folding her arms across her chest.

  A pang of pride and happiness settles warmly across my chest as I read the letter in my hands. Brynn was accepted into a culinary school in London, the one she’s wanted to attend
since she was twelve and finally acquired a taste for lobster. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised. Brynn, I’m so proud of you.” I throw my arms around her shoulders and Peter wraps his arms around both of us.

  Brynn calls Peter Pa, from his initials. Our own ten-year-old daughter, well…

  She calls him Dad, of course. But really, he’s as much a father to Brynn as he is to our daughter Kate. And I haven’t told him yet, but I’m pregnant with our second child. I’m as blissfully in love with Peter Ames as I was the day he asked me what was good at the restaurant.

  “We’re going to have to hire a new chef,” Peter says as Kate comes down the stairs. She’s wearing a Rush t-shirt. I told her it was okay to wear to her big sister’s high school graduation as long as she wore a cardigan over it, and she could take off the cardigan for the after-party, which we’re having at Crabby’s. A few families got together and rented out the restaurant for the afternoon and evening to throw a big party for the whole graduating class.

  “I think you’re going to have to step up as chef, Kate,” Brynn says, taking her sister’s hand. Technically they’re cousins, but they’re more like sisters. We start to make our way outside. I’m grabbing Brynn’s cap and gown, Peter’s grabbing Kate’s purse. Sometimes it all feels like a little bit too much, like our love is bursting at the seams, and I just want to add more to our plate. You can never have enough love.

  “Finally,” Kate says. "I’ve been wanting some more responsibility.”

  “Where does she come up with this stuff?” Peter asks.

  “She gets it from her aunt,” I hear Cassie say from the driveway. She and Mike are standing outside their car with a bouquet of balloons. Too many balloons.

  My heart is so full. My husband grabs my hand and brings me close to his chest when the rest of our family is off in the driveway taking pictures.

  “I love you Claire,” he whispers against my lips. Sometimes I think I’m dreaming. Sometimes I think I just got too lucky. It’s been a hard road to travel. I miss my parents and sister every single day. I’ll never stop missing them. They’ll never stop being a part of me. But all of the love and joy that Peter and I have been able to carve out in our little corner of the world makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. Every single day, I wake up in awe of him. In stupid, drunk, crazy love that makes me feel like I’m drowning in something good.

  “I love you too, Peter.”

  The End <3

  Her Friend’s Father

  Preview

  I haven’t seen him in a year. Back then, he was sweet, attentive and kind. And now?

  Joanne

  I do not remember my friend’s father looking like this. If I did, I might not have shown up for her birthday pool party.

  A body like a Roman soldier. Protective and gorgeous. Totally off-limits.

  I shouldn’t want him, but I do.

  We keep finding ways to be alone together. We keep in touch after the party. I accept an invitation out to their beach house.

  This will be good, the three of us hanging out together. But then William and I keep finding ourselves alone. Getting closer.

  He would never let anything happen between us, right?

  Wrong. Very wrong.

  William

  I’ve built walls around my heart to protect myself and my daughter. She and I are all the other has.

  But when my daughter’s friend shows up at my front door, I feel those walls crumble in an instant.

  I remember her from a year ago. How could I forget? She was sweet, pretty, and young. Too young for me.

  Now she’s sweet, pretty, and young, with curves that I can’t get out of my mind. I want to touch and feel every single inch of her young, supple body.

  For the first time in years, there might be room in my heart for something more.

  But how can I make sure I don’t get hurt again? And even more important - how can I ensure that I don’t hurt the hearts around me, too?

  Because now that I’ve had Joanne in my arms, my resolve is broken - and there’s no going back.

  Please enjoy this steamy novella! No cheating, no cliffhanger, HEA.

  xx, Lauren

  1

  Joanne

  I watch William as he puts his hands on the edge of the pool. Strong, masculine, pure damn sexy hands. The kind that make you realize that just seeing hands - hands! - can make you all wet.

  I bite my lip and shift in my lawn recliner, flipping a page of the glossy magazine in my lap. The paper sticks to my hands and I peel them away. A little bit of ink gets left behind on my sweaty fingers. I watch as William’s chest rises from the pool, glistening and rippled as water flows over it, the tanned, tattooed skin taut against firm muscle. My heartbeat becomes more rapid as I watch his forearms balancing his weight against the edge of the pool.

  With a grunt he pushes himself up higher, planting one of his feet on the sturdy ground, finally emerging completely. His shorts drip with water, and I struggle and succeed in not letting myself check out the front of them. He smiles over at me as he pushes a hand through his wet hair, then shakes his head, sending drips and drops of water everywhere. A few of them land on my magazine and my legs, and I lean down to brush the water off my calf, marking my leg with a little bit of the ink stuck to my fingers.

  “Have you tried counting sheep?”

  “Huh?” I reply. My eyes follow William as he walks away, smiling back at me. My gaze finds the edge of his swim trunks, slung low on his perfect, cute butt, every muscle flexing and moving. I struggle to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, and I throw my gaze back down to my magazine.

  “Counting sheep? You said you couldn’t sleep.”

  Cassandra’s question snaps me out of the moment, and it’s a good thing, too.

  “Oh, right. Yeah, been there, tried it,” I reply.

  I’ve tried everything. Counting sheep. Not drinking water for two hours before bed. Not drinking coffee for eight hours before bed. Ear plugs, headphones, a noise machine, ASMR videos. But nothing works, and none of it is going to work unless I get my ass out of that apartment.

  I don’t want to tell my friend the real reason I haven’t been able to sleep. All the stuff I’ve tried helps me fall asleep, sure, and that’s half the battle. The other half is staying asleep. The real reason I can’t sleep is that I live in a basement apartment with crappy windows and that the L train runs right above my bedroom window.

  “And that doesn’t work?” she asks, flipping her magazine. “That sucks. Have you tried counting sheep backwards maybe?”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea,” I say distractedly. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  I’ll give it a try. 100. 99. 98. It won’t do any good. I’m going to be subjected to loud noises at all hours either way.

  “You okay?” Cassandra asks. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”

  Somewhere else? Yeah, right. Not even a little bit. Sneaking glances at William all day has made me all the more aware of where I am. No, I’m not somewhere else. I’m definitely fully in my body, because I can feel every single tingle and butterfly and sensation deep inside me, no matter how hard I try not to.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I reply, burying my attention in the magazine in my lap. I force myself to try to concentrate on it. “Maybe just a little tired like always. Hey, they’re having a show at the Franklin Gallery. Didn’t you work with them once?”

  “Yes, I did.” Cassandra nods, licking her finger and flipping the page of her magazine with one elegant motion.

  “Ever think of going back to them?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. Anything to distract me from the man I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off all day and out of my dirty, forbidden thoughts.

  “Yeah, maybe,” she says. She glances over at me while my eyes are straining to stay down on my magazine. “Hey, are you sure everything’s okay with you today?”

  Cassandra is ver
y maternal. The last time I stayed home from work sick, she had chicken soup and ginger ale delivered to me with a bouquet of yellow roses. I told her it was way too much, but she likes doing nice things for people.

  I nod again and give her a little smile of assurance, but I’m lying.

  William answered the door in his swim trunks when I showed up for Cassandra’s birthday this afternoon. I was already nervous, and the fact that I had to wait a while for someone to let me in didn’t help. I guess in a house this size it takes a long time to get to the door.

  And when he did finally get to the door?

  I clutched my big black floppy hat by the brim, clawing at it a little bit harder when I saw him. My other hand was holding the soft handle of my tote bag, and I felt myself fist the leather harder, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest.

  I had met this man before, just about one year ago. He was kind to me. Sweet. He paid attention to me in a friendly, innocent way. We’d made small-talk. Over the course of the evening, I’d developed an innocent crush.