Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection

by Sofia T Summers

  Every time I found one of these traces, these memories of my father, it was like a stab to the heart. I kept expecting it to stop hurting, especially when life kept marching on at the slow, steady pace to which I’d become so accustomed over the years. There were days when I hardly thought of him and days when it was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears in front of Mom and Lilah.

  I had to stay strong for my mother, even if that meant pushing my own grief down and working through it on my own. Mom, on the other hand, was visibly getting better day by day. At first, she talked of little save for how much she missed my father. She could hardly mention him without tearing up, and I’d drop whatever it was that I was doing to rush to comfort her. But as days passed, she started talking about him with a smile on her face, remembering all of the fun and wonderful things that they’d done together.

  “Did I ever tell you, Annie, that when we went to California, I got so drunk one night that I washed my hair with lotion instead of shampoo?” Mom said one day, smiling to herself at the memory. “Your father called me a silly goose for the entire rest of the trip.”

  I smiled, too. Picturing my mom and dad frolicking on a beach together in California was almost impossible. It made me wonder how much of their conservative image had been conjured for my benefit, for them to feel like they were just being good parents.

  “I found a pre-school for Lilah,” I said, when Mom and I had stopped laughing. “It’s at the Lutheran church down the street. The groups are small, but I think she’ll fit right in. The teachers seem really nice.”

  Mom nodded. “That’ll be good for her, getting back on a normal routine,” she said. “And what about you?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

  “Have you thought any about what you’ll be doing?”

  I nodded. “I have an interview tomorrow,” I said.

  Mom smiled. “Have you called your landlord yet?”

  “Yesterday,” I said. “Because of the circumstances, she said that she wouldn’t fine me for breaking the lease. I’ll just have to go back at some point and box up my things for storage.”

  Mom waved her hand. “Nonsense,” she said. “You may as well just bring everything here.”

  The thought of my secondhand IKEA furniture nestled in my mom’s luxurious house was enough to make me cringe, and I shook my head.

  “I’ll probably just wind up getting rid of most of the stuff, anyway,” I admitted. “Most of it’s not very nice.”

  “Well, whatever you think is best,” Mom said airily.

  I shifted in my chair. That line had always been my mother’s favorite way of signaling that she was finished with the conversation, and hearing her say it to me like that made me feel like a kid again.

  “Do you mind watching Lilah while I go interview?”

  “Of course not,” Mom said. She smiled. “She’s such a beautiful little girl, Annie. You’ve done a great job with her.”

  I tried not to groan. “I feel terrible,” I admitted. “Having her in pre-school and then day-care, and then still having work to do when I’d finally get her home.”

  My mom reached across the table and patted my hand. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, hon,” she said. “You’ve got me. You know I love watching her.”

  “Really?” I asked. “I mean, I’d love it if you could – but I don’t want you to feel like an automatic babysitter just because we’re living here.”

  My mom laughed. “Nonsense, Annie,” she said. “That’s what family is for.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I reached for it, peering down at the screen. It was a local number, but not one that I had saved, and I motioned for my mom to be quiet as I swiped open the call.

  “This is Annie Browne,” I said as clearly as I could. “How may I help you?”

  “Hi, Annie,” a friendly voice said on the other end of the line. “This is Pam, with Empire Events. I’m just calling to confirm your interview for next Tuesday at two-thirty.”

  “Oh, of course,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Good,” Pam replied warmly. “We’re looking forward to meeting you. Do you have any questions for me at this time?”

  I thought about it for a second. “No,” I said. “No questions – and I’m looking forward to meeting you as well.”

  We hung up and I sat back down, nodding my head.

  “I think tomorrow is going to go well,” I confided in my mother.

  “I hope it does, hon,” Mom said. “What makes you say that?”

  “I ... I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just have a feeling. Is that weird?”

  My mom shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not at all.” She looked at me and smiled. “Sometimes,” Mom said. “You just know.”

  17

  Elliot

  “Have a good trip, Mr. Pritzker?”

  I shrugged. “It was fine,” I said, handing my duffel bag to the company driver, Lewis. Lewis hauled the bag into the trunk of the Lincoln Town Car, then opened the back door for me to climb in. Inside, the luxurious car was equipped with a bottle of champagne chilling on ice, several bottles of Perrier mineral water, and a tray with individual wedges of Brie, each wrapped in plastic, alongside a bunch of grapes that looked too photogenic to be real.

  “Care for a drink, sir?”

  I thought about it. It was one-thirty in the afternoon, but my body was still on Brussels time and I was hungry for dinner.

  “Not just yet,” I said. “Thank you, though.”

  Lewis closed the backseat door and walked to the front of the car, getting in behind the wheel and starting the ignition. My skin was sticky and damp with sweat and my shirt was clinging to my body – somehow, in the span of just a week, summer had bloomed in Massachusetts.

  I didn’t miss this, I thought with a grimace as I reached forward and twisted the air-conditioning knob to the coldest possible setting. Frigid air blasted over my face and torso and I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat as Lewis maneuvered the Town Car away from the curb and in the direction of home.

  Empire Events had sent me on a two-week-long corporate retreat and getting home, it felt like no time whatsoever had passed. The trip had been a nice gesture, but it had done little to minimize the stress I was feeling. Pressure at work had been over the top lately, and I knew that I’d likely have to log on for a couple of hours when I got home and check in to make sure that things hadn’t completely gone to hell while I had been away.

  There was traffic, and I eyed the bottle of champagne again, wondering if it would be too indulgent to open it just for myself. Just as I was about to reach for it and pop the cork, the Town Car started moving again. Lewis pulled off the highway and as we drove through the back roads of the Boston suburbs, I stared out the window without seeing a thing.

  “Pine Street, yes?”

  “That’s right,” I called to the front of the car. “Five-sixty-two.”

  Lewis turned down my street. The massive oaks on each side of the street were as leafy and verdant as ever – summer really had arrived in my absence – and the foliage was so dense that for a moment, I didn’t see her.

  Then, Lewis slowed the Town Car to a stop in front of my house and I looked up.

  There she was.

  Annie.

  Sitting on the lawn of her parents’ house, with her shapely legs curled up beneath her and a book in her lap. Her blonde curls were longer and darker than I remembered, and she was so engrossed in the book that she didn’t look up at the sound of the Town Car slowing to a halt. She was twisted a lock of golden hair around one of her fingers and nibbling on her deliciously full lower lip. Her curvy body looked just as delectable, just as thrilling, as I remembered and seeing her brought on a heady rush of feelings that I thought I had forgotten how to feel.

  “Mr. Pritzker?” Lewis asked, jolting me back to reality. “Would you like me to carry your bag to the house?”

  “Uh, yeah,
sure,” I said absentmindedly. I still couldn’t tear my eyes away from Annie. She was as thick and gorgeous as ever – the cut of her dress was just low enough to expose her excessive cleavage – and my mouth went dry as my eyes traveled the length of her body.

  All I wanted to do was approach her. Drop to my knees and confess that I’d been an asshole, that I’d been a jerk, that I should never have said those stupid fucking things to her. That I hadn’t stopped thinking about her in the last few years, and that I wanted her now, more than ever, to be mine once again and forever.

  I couldn’t do that, though. If I was going to talk to her again, I’d have to find the right words. I couldn’t just show up and expect her to forgive me, not after years of radio silence between us.

  No, I’d have to figure out exactly the right thing to say and then make my move.

  Annie didn’t look up as Lewis helped me with my bag. She didn’t look up when the Town Car pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.

  She didn’t even look up when I let myself into my house and closed the door, rather loudly, behind me.

  As soon as I was inside, I exhaled sharply. Annie was back? How long had she been here? Had I somehow missed her arrival before leaving for Brussels? Frowning, I walked over to the secretary table by my desk and started rifling through the mail that had come in the last two weeks. It was all boring – bills and junk mail – and I set the pile of letters back down on the secretary. Glancing outside, I saw that Annie had gone in and I wondered if she’d seen me after all.

  Although I knew that I needed to compose something careful, something perfectly worded, I couldn’t wait. The temptation of having that curvy goddess so close to me again was having a startling effect on my system – like I’d drunk three espressos laced with brandy – and my heart was racing. I went upstairs and took a quick, cold shower to wash the grime of travel from my body. After changing into a clean pair of pants and a pressed shirt, I took a bottle of wine from the rack in my kitchen and crossed the lawn between my house and the Brownes’, for the first time in years.

  I barely had to knock on the door before it swung open. Standing on the other side was Cynthia, looking pale and smaller than I remembered. When she saw me, she smiled politely.

  “Oh, Elliot, it’s nice to see you,” she said. “I assume you saw the paper.”

  I blinked at her. “I’ve actually just gotten back,” I said. “From Brussels.”

  “Mom?” I heard Annie’s golden voice call. “Who’s there?”

  There was a flurry of footsteps and I looked up to see Annie coming down the stairs ... and she wasn’t alone. In her arms was a cherubic, fresh-faced little girl with Annie’s blonde tangles of hair and a shy smile.

  When Annie saw me, she froze in place and blinked in shock. She recovered quickly, smiling unnaturally wide and slowly finishing her descent down the stairs.

  I couldn’t stop staring at the little girl in her arms. It was clearly her daughter – I’d never seen such a striking resemblance between a mother and child before. The little girl could have been Annie’s twin in miniature. Just from looking at her, I could tell that she was as sassy and spunky as her mom.

  Is that why she didn’t come back for so long, I thought, narrowing my eyes. She had a kid and was too embarrassed?

  Fuck.

  “Yes, the paper,” Cynthia said, biting her lip nervously. “My husband – Rob. He ... he was in a car accident and he passed away. Just under two weeks ago.”

  “Oh my god,” I said involuntarily. “Cynthia, I’m so sorry.” I stepped forward and took Cynthia’s hands in my own, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “I’ve been away – in Brussels – and I had no idea.”

  “Yes,” Cynthia said. She swallowed hard. “And my Annie has come back to help me.”

  “I see,” I said.

  Annie and her daughter joined us. She set the little girl down on the ground and patted her head, causing the child to laugh.

  “Lilah, go play in the back yard,” Annie said, watching carefully as her daughter toddled out of the room on unsteady legs.

  “I’ll go and open that,” Cynthia said. She took the wine from my hands.

  “No, don’t worry about that,” I said. “You don’t have to open it just because I brought it over. Save it and enjoy it if you want.”

  Cynthia nodded. “Well, thank you. That was very generous of you,” she said. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I don’t have much, just some roast chicken, but it’s no trouble to set an extra place.”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” I said. Although I was looking at and talking to Cynthia, all I could think about was Annie and her presence, so maddeningly near to mine. I wanted to pull her into my arms, crush her to my body, tell her the truth: that I’d never stopped thinking about her over the course of five years, and that I had a feeling she was going to be on my mind every day for the rest of my life.

  “Oh. Well, all right, then,” Cynthia replied. She sounded relieved, and I guessed that in the wake of Rob’s death, she had been doing more entertaining than even she was capable of.

  From the kitchen, I heard the sound of a phone ringing.

  “Excuse me, Elliot,” Cynthia said. “I’ll be right back.” She bustled out of the room, leaving me alone with Annie.

  “So,” Annie said, raising her big blue eyes to mine. “What have you been doing with yourself over the last five years?” Her tone was both coy and hesitant, and it took everything in me not to take her hands, kiss her fingers, and tell her how I felt.

  That I loved her.

  That I knew I always would.

  And that I never wanted to be away from her, not ever again.

  18

  Annie

  I couldn’t believe it – how was I actually functioning? My heart was pounding and my palms were so sweaty that I had to keep wiping them on my dress. It wasn’t that I had forgotten how handsome Elliot was, but seeing him again only made me realize just how disarmed I felt being in his presence.

  He looked exactly the same. His thick, wavy dark brown hair was brushed back from his forehead. The touches of silver at his temples had grown slightly more noticeable, but in the way that made me want to run my hands through his hair. His emerald eyes still sparkled when his gaze traveled up and down my body.

  And my mouth still went dry, just from locking eyes with him.

  “So,” I said, trying to pretend like my heart wasn’t in my throat. “What have you been doing with yourself over the last five years?”

  Inwardly, I cringed. The question sounded both studied and pretentious, like I’d been rehearsing for the very moment I’d see him again.

  But Elliot didn’t laugh, or sneer. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Keeping busy, mostly,” he said in a low voice. “And you?”

  I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood. He’s fucking with me, I thought. He saw Lilah, and he has to know that she’s his ... anyone with half a brain would put two and two together. Their eyes are exactly the same, for goodness sake!

  “Um, same, mostly,” I said, raising my eyes to his. When our gazes met, a shiver ran down my spine and I felt myself starting to get wet. Inside my panties, my clit throbbed and pulsed. I felt like a woman again, like a real woman.

  I hadn’t felt this way in years and until that moment, I hadn’t realized just how much I missed feeling desire, lust, and excitement.

  Elliot chuckled. “I bet,” he said. “I’m so sorry to hear about your father,” he said. “I can’t imagine how crushing a blow that was.”

  I nodded. “It’s been hard,” I said. “One day, things feel normal and I don’t think about him all that much. And then other days ... other days, it’s like everything reminds me of him. Even things that have nothing to do with him, you know?” I paused, feeling self-conscious for having rambled on. “Is that stupid?”

  Elliot gave a swift shake of his head. “No,” he said. “Not stupid at all.”

  There was a moment of tense silence betw
een us. My insides were fluttery and churning with anxiety and arousal, mingling together into a strange new emotion that I’d never felt before. It could have been because of the stress I’d been under, or the grief, or maybe even something stronger than that, but suddenly I wanted Elliot so bad that I could hardly stand it. My blood was running hot through my veins and I held my breath as my body trembled with the strongest, most intense lust that I’d ever felt in my life.

  “What about her father?” Elliot asked quietly.

  I swallowed softly, then looked him dead in the eyes.

  “He’s not in the picture,” I said after a long pause.

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. Elliot and I hadn’t spoken since the night of our fight, five years ago.

  But it wasn’t exactly the truth, either, and my heart was racing for having said it. The air between us was charged with so much electricity that I was afraid of getting jolted, and I wasn’t sure I could stand it anymore. Being in my mom’s living room with Elliot, the estranged father of my child, felt so surreal that I had the insane urge to pinch myself, just to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming.

  My mom came bustling back into the living room, holding a glass of wine.

  “Elliot, it was so nice to see you again,” she said. “Don’t be a stranger now,” she added. “This house is far too big for just Annie and me, even with my little granddaughter running around.”

  Elliot didn’t take his eyes away from mine the entire time my mother was speaking.

  “I won’t, Cynthia,” he said finally. “And again, I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

  And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the house. When the front door had closed behind him, my mom turned to me.