by Nikki Ash
She walks around the table with a bright smile on her face, greeting everyone with the confidence and self-assurance I wish I had. You used to, I remind myself. You just have to allow yourself to get back there.
When she gets to Lachlan, who has an empty spot next to him—although, it’s not the only empty spot—she leans down and gives him a chaste kiss on his cheek. I can see him give her a disapproving look out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t say anything to her.
She also makes it a point not to say anything to me. Simply sitting down next to Lachlan and making conversation with Riley, who is sitting across from me, as she loads her plate up with food. When Lachlan asks me if I’d like cheese on my eggs, Shea’s eyes swing over to us, her brows knitting together as she watches us.
“That’s sweet, Lach. You’re making your girlfriend a plate.” She says it softly, so only Lachlan and I can hear over the chattering that’s going on all over the table. And then she adds, “But wouldn’t it make more sense for her to make yours?” She grins evilly, looking right at me. “You are young enough to be her second child.” She snorts at her own joke, and I want to hide, because just as she said the last part, the table got quiet and everyone heard.
My heart starts picking up speed, my fight-or-flight kicking in. Of course flight wins out—it always does—only I’m stuck on this bench between Lachlan and his mom with no way to get out without asking Lachlan and Shea to move.
Just as I’m seriously considering jumping over the back of the bench, Lachlan’s hand lands on mine, squeezing it tightly. Calmly, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, he says, “I will not tolerate you speaking to, or about, my fiancée negatively. This is my home, and I will ask you to leave. I don’t care who your mother is.”
Without waiting for her to answer, he leans in so only I can hear and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Unable to speak without risking my voice cracking with emotion, I nod my okay, refusing to look over at Shea, then reach over and grab my plate Lachlan’s still holding. There’s only a couple items of food on there, and I know I’m still going to be hungry later, but I hate what she said about him making my plate. I shouldn’t let it bother me, but she hit on one of my biggest insecurities about us—our huge age difference.
Lachlan’s brows furrow, knowing he wasn’t done making my plate, but I ignore him and start eating. The entire time we’re eating, his gaze flicks over to my plate. I know he wants to add more to it, or tell me to, but he also knows it will only embarrass me.
His mom tries to make conversation, asking me various questions, but I’m too closed off to converse. I answer her every question, but they’re short and cut off. The worst part is I know what I’m doing, and I hate it. I hate being weak. I want to be strong. I want to snap back at Shea and tell her to fuck off. I want to display my engagement ring, so she can stare in envy. And in my head, I totally do. Too bad, in my head doesn’t count. It’s moments like these I’m reminded of how much further I need to go to get back to being the person I used to be. The person I was before Rick. And then I curse Rick for doing this to me, and myself for allowing him to do this to me. And then I chastise myself for once again letting Rick into my thoughts. It’s really a vicious cycle that needs to be stopped.
When brunch finishes, Lachlan excuses us so he can show me to our room. Refusing to let me help with the luggage, he carries both upstairs to the guestroom we’ll be sharing. The room is beautifully decorated in cream and powder blue. There’s a large king-sized bed in the corner, and the coziest looking reading nook I’ve ever seen under the window—complete with several fluffy pillows. Lachlan mentioned going out tonight for the bachelor party with all the guys, and since I didn’t want to be that woman who prevents him from having a good time, even though the idea of me being here without him makes me feel sick, I told him he should go. Well, now I know exactly where I’ll be tonight. Relaxing on that comfy bench, reading my book.
Lachlan sets our bags down and closes the door behind us, then pulls me over to the bed and sits me down on the edge, separating my legs and stepping in between. He grips my chin and lifts my head, so I’m looking at him. “Do not let that bitch get in your head,” he commands, his voice taking on an edge I’ve never heard from him before.
And then his mouth is crashing down on mine, his tongue pushing through my lips and swirling against my own. The rough way he kisses me leaves my head spinning. My body heating. My insides sizzling.
He pulls me into a standing position, ripping my shirt off my body, reaching behind to unclasp my bra. We’re ravenous, both of our hands working in a frenzy to remove every article of clothing from each other’s body.
Lachlan drops to his knees and pushes me back onto the bed. His hands grip my knees and spread my thighs. His tongue delves between my pussy lips, licking and sucking on my clit. It feels so good, I release a heady moan, one that quickly reminds me where we are.
But I don’t care because when Lachlan’s mouth is on my body, everything else fades away. The entire world around us could be falling apart, but as long as he’s touching me, I wouldn’t even notice. I wouldn’t even care.
And then his fingers are inside of me. Pushing in and pulling out. In and Out. In and Out. Deliciously slow and deep. A complete contrast to the way he was just devouring me with his mouth. Craving his roughness again, my hips push down on his fingers, meeting them thrust for thrust.
I can’t get enough of him. Of the way he gives me all of him. Every ounce of himself is mine for the taking.
His pace picks up, pushing in deeper, harder, hitting that magical spot inside me. The man knows my body better than I do at this point. And with another thrust in, I’m exploding around him. My legs trembling. And then my entire body goes limp.
He doesn’t even let me come down from my climax before he’s dragging me up the bed and placing me on top of him. I have no clue how I’m supposed to ride him with numb legs. His fingers grip the sides of my ass, and he lifts me up and onto his stiff, pierced cock. He’s so deep this way, my back arches. He grabs my hands and places them on the back of the headboard, on either side of his head. My body jerks forward, my heavy breasts going right into his face. He catches one with his mouth, sucking on the hardened peak. All the while, he continues to fuck me from the bottom. Powerful thrusts that have him in me so deep it feels like he’s in my stomach.
Every. Piece. Of. Him. Is. Mine.
My legs finally get some of their feeling back, so I take over, riding him, trying to show him through my movements how much I need him. When he notices, his hands travel from my hips to my breasts, massaging and kneading them. And then his thumb hits my clit, flicking the swollen nub, and I detonate, coming so hard, my hands fall from the headboard, and my body slumps forward. My face nuzzles into the curve between his neck and shoulder, and Lachlan’s face does the same. He kisses and suckles on my neck as he spills his warm seed into me.
I should probably get off him, so we can get cleaned up. I can feel his cum running out of me, but I can’t move. I don’t want to. I’ve come to the realization that Lachlan has imbedded himself within me. I’m no longer just me, I’m a part of him. When I’m with him, I feel beautiful, wanted, loved. I feel whole. He took all the broken pieces and somehow managed to put me back together. And then it clicks. There’s no way he found all my pieces. I know for a fact Rick took several of them with him to the grave. Which means there’s only one reason I’m complete. Lachlan replaced all the missing pieces with his own. The puzzle is only complete because he took pieces of himself and gave them to me. And I know the second we pull apart, I’ll no longer feel as put together. I don’t just love him, I need him. He completes me. Without him, I’m not whole. I’m not me.
Twenty-Three
Quinn
“I love you so much, sweetie! Be good for Auntie Sky!” I wave through the phone, and my daughter waves back.
“Okay, Mommy! Love you too! See you soon! Bye!”
With one last kis
s to the screen, Kinsley hits the end button, and her adorable face disappears. I drop my phone on the bed with a sigh. Lachlan’s only been gone for a few hours, but I really wish he was already back. I imagine my need to be near him isn’t healthy, but I don’t really care all that much. Especially when he’s out having a good time at the bachelor party Declan is throwing for the groom, Steven. He said tonight was perfect since Emily insisted they sleep apart the night before the wedding. She’s here, along with all the other women, including Shea. I tried to hang out with everyone downstairs. I didn’t want to be that person. The one who seems stuck up because she doesn’t socialize, but when Shea droned on and on about all the fun times she, Declan, Lachlan, and Riley used to have, I excused myself to call my daughter. Now I’m dying of thirst and my stomach is growling, and the last thing I want to do is go down there, but it’s going to have to happen.
Tiptoeing out the door of our room, I quietly glide down the stairs. I inhale a deep breath when I hear voices and deduce they’re coming from the family room—the room just past the dining room and kitchen. When I get to the kitchen, I peek in, and once I see it’s empty, I scurry over to the fridge to find something to eat and drink. The sound of women laughing and chattering rings through the house, but I ignore it as I quickly cut up some strawberries and make myself a roast beef sandwich. That is until I hear Shea’s whiny voice mention Lachlan. Then I stop what I’m doing and listen.
“I can’t believe he’s seriously going to raise someone else’s child,” she says in her heavy Irish accent. Why does she have to have such a beautiful accent just to spew such nasty words?
“He’s always wanted a house full of children,” another woman adds. It sounds like Riley, but I could be wrong.
“Yeah, of his own kids,” Shea volleys back, disgust evident in her tone. “What is she, like forty? She’s not having any more kids. They’ll never last,” she hisses. “Lach and I are meant to be together, and once he learns we’re on the same page, he’s going to drop her like a bad habit.”
“So, you’ve changed your mind?” a different woman asks.
“I didn’t really think it was that important to him…”
“But have you changed your mind?” the same woman repeats.
“Lachlan will—” Shea’s sentence stops abruptly. There’s a quiet moment, and then she says, “Oh, Evelyn, you’re back! Where were you?” I almost vomit at how different her tone is. What a fake bitch.
“With us leaving right after the wedding, I wanted to visit my garden one last time,” Evelyn says sweetly. “What were you ladies talking about? I thought I heard Lachlan’s name.”
“We were just talking about how good Lachlan is with his nieces and nephews,” Shea says, her voice so saccharine, I’m going to get a toothache just from listening to her speak.
“He was definitely meant to be a family man,” Evelyn says, motherly pride and fondness for her son in her tone.
“I bet you can’t wait to one day be a grandmother,” another woman says, but I’m not sure who it is.
“Oh, yes,” she gushes. “I can’t wait to have my own grandbaby to spoil.”
My heart drops at her last word: grandbaby. She wants a grandbaby, and Lachlan wants his own children. He’s meant to be a family man.
Having lost my appetite, and not wanting to hear another word, I drop my food into the trash, grab a bottle of water, and go back upstairs. I grab my iPad to read, but the idea of reading about someone else getting their happily ever after makes me feel that much worse.
As I cuddle into my blankets, I think about everything Lachlan has done to make my life better, everything he’s given me, and the whole time, I didn’t stop to think about his life. What his needs and wants are. Shea insinuated they broke up because she wasn’t ready for a family, and it makes sense because Lachlan is a natural born father. He’s amazing with Kinsley. While I don’t think he’ll end up with Shea, she still makes a valid point. I am turning forty. It took me nearly four years to get pregnant with Kinsley, and I was younger. The odds of me getting pregnant go down every year, and then there are the risk factors that increase the older the woman gets.
Lachlan deserves to have a family of his own. He deserves more than to only ever raise another man’s child. Sure, he’ll probably deny it when I ask him if that’s enough for him, but what happens one day when reality hits and he resents me? He’ll either stay with me out of guilt or leave me.
My mind goes to my father. He’s not someone I ever try to think or talk about. But right now, it doesn’t surprise me he’s who pops into my head. He was with my mom for years, but when she couldn’t conceive, he started to cheat on her. Jax and Jase were both born and then a couple years later I came. But by then he was fully living a double life…well, actually three lives, if you include his other wife no one knew about. He chose my mom over the others and sought custody of Jax and Jase, proving their mom to be unfit. She ended up committing suicide.
I feared Rick would do the same thing to me when I found out I was pregnant—try to prove me to be unfit. Only he died, and I was able to raise Kinsley on my own. Would Lachlan cheat on me if I couldn’t get pregnant? Would he seek another woman to fill in the gaps I’m not capable of filling in? I want to say no, but I’ve seen what men are capable of doing.
Unable to fall asleep, my mind races with every doubt and insecurity, every worst case scenario and what if, until the tears are racing down my cheeks as I mourn the loss of Lachlan and me and our future.
Just as my eyes are finally closing, the door creaks open. I know it’s Lachlan without seeing him. I can feel his overpowering presence, and it takes everything in me not to lose it.
After he shuffles around the room, the bed dips down as he climbs in behind me, his strong arms wrapping around my torso. I let my lids flutter shut, reveling in the warmth his body and touch radiates. He snuggles closer to me and nestles his face into the back of my hair. “I know you’re awake,” he murmurs. “I can practically hear your mind spinning, and your body is stiff with tension.” He runs his hand down the curve of my hip and over my thigh. “My mom said you’ve been in the room all night. Did something happen?”
I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, trying to decide what to do or say. I never want to lie to Lachlan. So, I answer his question with one of my own. “Do you want your own kids?” I stay lying with my back to Lachlan, and I’m surprised when he lets me. His fingers still on my thigh, and I feel him tense up. I already know his answer, but I wait for him to say it.
“No,” he murmurs, and I close my eyes, the silent tears breaking out from under my lids and falling.
He lied to me. His answer should’ve been yes, but he said no. He chose to protect me with a lie, instead of breaking my heart with the truth. And by doing so, I now know what needs to happen next.
Twenty-Four
Lachlan
Over the next two days I watch helplessly as Quinn pushes me away. She attends the wedding with me, speaks politely when spoken to, smiles at the right time—although every one of them is fake—laughs when someone says a joke, and takes tons of pictures of everything around her. But I can feel it, she’s retreating back into her shell.
When she asked me if I wanted my own kids, I knew something was wrong. She wouldn’t have asked that out of nowhere. Something was said, probably by fucking Shea. I don’t know. I tried to further explain my answer after I said no, but Quinn wouldn’t let me. She complained of a stomachache and retreated to the bathroom, locking it behind her. When she finally came out, I tried again, but she cut me off, telling me she was tired and wanted to get some sleep.
On the plane ride home, she faked sleeping for half the trip. The other half, she plugged in her headphones and worked on edits. I can literally feel her slipping from my fingers, and I have no idea how to fix this. I don’t know what to ask, what to say.
Because we live in different parts of the city, after we get our bags from luggage claim, she insists we take different
cabs home. I try to argue, but when she says she just needs some space, that she misses Kinsley and wants to spend some alone time with her, I know I’m stuck.
As she gets into the cab, she kisses my cheek and gives me a sad smile, and I can feel it in my bones, I’ve lost her before I ever truly had her. I close the door, in shock, and watch as the cab drives away. I take the next cab home, staring at my phone, wondering if I should text or call her. Debating if she just needs space. But then when I’m home and in my room, as I’m pulling my jeans off to change into a pairs of sweats, a diamond ring falls out of my front pocket, hitting the wood floor with a clink, confirming what I already know.
I’ve lost her.
Twenty-Five
Lachlan
I wake up, and for the first time in days, Quinn isn’t lying next to me in bed. Her perfect, warm body isn’t pressed into my side, and her leg isn’t thrown over mine. Her hair isn’t fanned out across her face and pillow. She’s not waking me up and hurrying me out the door, so I can go get breakfast and come right back to eat with her and Kinsley.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed and turn my alarm off since I’m up before it’s gone off. After showering and getting dressed, I head out to the kitchen to pop a K-cup into the Keurig so I can make myself a cup of coffee before I go to work. As I listen to the water heat up and then the coffee brew, I ignore the otherwise deafening silence. Kinsley’s giggles are missing. The way she clacks her fork and knife against her plate. Quinn’s voice isn’t yelling across the house for her daughter to hurry up and eat so they aren’t late. She’s not begging me to make her a cup then kissing me when I hand it to her, already made.