This Is Forever (This Is Series 4)

by Natasha Madison

“Thanks for letting me know.” I hang up the phone and try to think of ways that I can pay for it, and I literally can’t. There are so many things coming that I have to pay for, especially my phone.

  After turning everything off and then tucking in the chair, I walk out into the daylight and hear Dylan laughing. I turn and see that Justin has him over his shoulder like he’s a sack of potatoes while he tickles his stomach. “Okay, fine, fine, you’re better than Matthew.”

  “You better say that,” he says, and then he spots me. His eyes light up, and his smile gets so big. “There’s your mom.” Justin puts him down, and Dylan runs to me. I almost go back a step, but I hug his head, leaning down to kiss his wet head.

  “Mom,” he says. “Justin is a grasshopper.”

  I look up at Justin, who just groans. “He was in the car when my brother called, and he calls me grasshopper.” He walks over to us and towers over me and leans down and kisses my cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Um …” I say. My cheek’s still tingling when he puts his arm around my shoulder and walks me to the SUV while Dylan hugs my waist. He goes on and on about what he did, talking a mile a minute, and I just want to savor it.

  “I’m starving,” he says right before climbing into the back seat, and Justin opens the passenger door for me. “Mom, can I have a whole pizza to myself?”

  “No,” I answer the same time Justin answers, “Sure.”

  “He’s never going to eat the whole thing.” I look at Justin, who shrugs.

  “He can have it for a snack later,” he says, and I climb up into the vehicle.

  “What’s going on right now?” I whisper as I watch Justin walk around the front and get in.

  “We are going to get pizza and spaghetti,” Dylan says from the back, and Justin looks over his shoulder.

  “What did you say?” he asks, starting the SUV and putting his seat belt on.

  “Mom was asking what is going on,” he says, and Justin looks over at me. “Mom, I got new stuff.” I look at Justin, who slips on his shades and makes his way out of the neighborhood and onto the highway.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say softly, and he looks over at me.

  “I know I didn’t, but I wanted to,” he says, and I just nod at him and look out the window.

  I watch the city come into view, and when he turns down one of the richest streets in the city, all I can do is look at the skyscrapers. All of them are so tall, and the sun reflects off them, making them look like mirrors. He slows down when he gets to the tallest building and then pulls into the underground parking area. I look at Justin. “The restaurant is right across the street.” I open the door, and he gets out, and Dylan is already getting out of his seat.

  Justin walks a little ahead of us, and Dylan holds my hand while we follow him. I spot a sign that says for residents only, and I stop walking. “You can’t park here,” I say, pointing at the sign.

  “I’m pretty sure I can since I live here,” he says, and at that moment, I’m reminded of how so very different we are.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Justin

  I see her face change when I say I live here as she looks down at her clothes and then looks up at me again. “Let’s go,” I say, walking back to her and putting my hand around her shoulders. I let my arm hang lightly even though I want to pull her into me.

  “You live here?” Dylan says, smiling when we walk to the elevator, and I press the up button.

  “I do,” I say, and I’m praying like fuck that the elevator gets there before she bolts. I watch her every move as she tries not to make eye contact with me, and she looks around and sees all the brand-new cars. Thank fuck I didn’t tell her that the four cars I parked next to are mine. The ding of the elevator makes her look forward, and I’m not sure this is better.

  The inside walls of the elevator are all mirrors, and the floor is a light gray marble. Pressing the lobby button, I hold my breath as the doors open, and then I put my hand on her lower back to usher her out. She hasn’t dropped Dylan’s hand, and if she wasn’t with Dylan, I wonder if she would try to make a run for it.

  I watch as her eyes take in the room, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Turning left when we get off the elevator, I walk past the security desk. He spots me and stands, showing you the uniform of a black jacket and white shirt. “Good evening, Mr. Stone.”

  “Hey, Bob.” I smile at him. There are a total of six security agents who work during the week. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” he says, and I just walk toward the glass door past the big round marble table that holds a vase of flowers with four chairs. It’s the waiting area. You don’t get past security if you are not on the list.

  “Does that guy block people?” Dylan asks when we walk outside, and the heat hits me right away.

  “Yeah,” I say. “The restaurant is just on the corner,” I say, turning to walk toward it.

  “Why?” Dylan asks me.

  “Why what?” We walk in sync, but I feel her stiffness next to me.

  “Why does he block people from seeing you?” I love that he is so curious. He is always asking questions and always trying to figure out puzzles.

  “Well, you know I play hockey, right?” I ask, and he nods. “Well, sometimes I don’t play good, and then you have people who want to come tell me that. I don’t mind if they tell me at the restaurant, but I don’t want them coming to my door.”

  “And you don’t want to hear it.” He nods his head. “I would do the same.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I say. I don’t tell him it’s because people push their limits and just decide it’s okay to knock on your door to get you to sign a shirt or a stick. It’s amazing that I’m being paid to do what I love, but there are times and places for that, and my home isn’t one of them. It’s a piece of me that no one gets to see unless I want them in my space.

  “Here we are,” I say, pulling open the door, and the smell of pizza hits you right away.

  A hostess stand is located right in front with a blonde and a brunette standing behind it. One of them notices me right away and perks up. “Hi there,” I say. “A table for three in the back if possible.”

  “Sure thing,” the blonde says and looks at her screen and talks to the brunette as they discuss where to sit us.

  “It smells really, really good,” Dylan says, and I look at him and smile and then look at Caroline who now has her hands folded in front of her stomach.

  “Wait until you try the pizza,” I tell Dylan, and then I hear my name being called.

  “Look at this.” I turn and see Lara, the owner, come over to me, and I lean down to kiss both her cheeks. “You look too skinny,” she says, slapping my stomach. “We need to put some meat on those bones.”

  I laugh and then look to my side. “Lara,” I say, smiling, “this is Dylan and Caroline. Guys, this is Lara. She owns this place.”

  “Nice to meet you two,” she says and turns to the girls. “Give them the private room in the back.”

  “Will do, Mrs. Cicionni,” the brunette says.

  “What do you like to eat?” She looks at Dylan, smiling.

  “Pizza and spaghetti,” he says and then smiles, putting up his finger. “With meatballs.”

  Lara claps her hands together in joy. “Now this I can do,” she jokes with him, getting the menus from the girls and then smiling at them. “I’ll take them back there. Will you tell Tony that I need a special plate for Justin and his guests?”

  “Sure thing,” the blonde says and walks to the back of the kitchen.

  “Come with me,” she says. Dylan walks next to her, and I see Caroline shiver.

  “Are you cold?” I ask, and she still doesn’t look at me. Instead, she just nods. We walk past the dining area full of high-top tables with steel stools. The outer walls are all windows, and then the wooden wall inside has all the signed jerseys from the team.

  “Are you taking us to a secret room?” Dylan asks, his eyes go
ing wide when she nods her head. “Mom, we are going to a secret room.”

  She opens one of the doors in the hallway, and we are taken into one of the private dining rooms. This one has a round table in the middle set for eight people. “Sit,” she says, putting the menus on the table. “And I’ll be back with some wine and some juice?”

  “Thank you,” I say to her, and Dylan is already sitting in one of the chairs.

  “Come and sit,” I say, taking her hand in mine. It feels like ice. “You’re freezing.”

  “Not really,” she says, and then she shivers again. “I get like this when I’m nervous.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and walk out of the room. Closing the door behind me, I come face-to-face with Lara, who is carrying a tray of drinks. “Hey, can you make sure she doesn’t leave?” I say, and she smirks at me.

  “Don’t tell me we finally found someone who is immune to your charm?” she says, laughing, and I have to smile.

  “Let’s just say that I think if she could, she would have already hightailed it out of here.”

  “I’ll keep her here.” She winks at me and then goes to open the door. “Even if I have to throw myself down in front of her.” She walks into the room.

  Walking past the hostesses, who smile at me, I run back to my apartment. I rush past the security and take the elevator up to my condo, hurrying to my room and snatching the first sweater I see. I make it back to the restaurant in a matter of two minutes. The hostess smiles at me again, and I see that her shirt is down just a touch. I shake my head and jog back to the room, and when I walk in, I see Lara sitting at the table talking to Caroline.

  “Hey,” I say, my chest heaving as I walk in, and Lara now gets up and smiles at them.

  “Dylan,” Lara says, “would you like to come and help make your pizza?” He looks at Caroline, his eyes big.

  “Mom,” he says, pleading, “can I?”

  “Sure,” she says. He gets up, and they walk out of the room and close the door.

  “Here,” I say, handing her the blue sweater I ripped off my shelf. My hand stays outstretched, and she just looks at it. “It’s just a sweater,” I say, and I’m about to just put it on her when she reaches out and takes it from me.

  “Did you run home?’ she asks softly as she puts on the sweater, and it’s so big on her the shoulder lines are in the middle of her arm. I sit next to her and nod, grabbing a glass of water. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “You were cold,” I say, and I put my arm on the back of her chair while I lean back. “So.”

  “You just solve everything,” she says, and she looks down and then up again.

  “If I can do it, I do it,” I say, looking at her, and fuck, do I ever want to kiss her. If her son wasn’t out there and she wasn’t scared and nervous of this thing happening, I would lean over and devour her. “Why are you nervous?” She looks down and then up again and leans forward to grab her wine glass and takes a sip. “Is that called liquid courage?”

  “I’ve never drank wine before,” she says. “I like it.”

  “Have you ever been drunk before?” I ask, and she shakes her head and takes another sip.

  “I think that’s enough wine for now,” I say. “I have experience with it.”

  “Oh, I bet you do,” she mumbles under her breath, and I smirk.

  “My sisters should open a winery with all the wine they consume,” I say. “I don’t give a shit if you drink the whole bottle. But are you ready to sleep over at my house?” She looks at me, and her mouth opens and then closes. She looks down at the glass in her hand and then up at me again and then down. “I don’t mean with me,” I say. “Although I wouldn’t say no,” I say softly, and she leans forward and puts the glass back on the table. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t want to sleep over?”

  “Um …” she starts to say.

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Stop being nervous. It’s just me.”

  “Yeah,” she says, “but it’s here at this really fancy restaurant.” And I have to wonder if the wine is really working on her or if she’s opening up to me. “And I’m not fancy, and the girls are all smiling at you, and then you have me”—she points at herself—“with my Walmart clothes and the whole closet of skeletons.” She grabs the wine again. “I mean, how do I even compete with that?”

  “Drink water,” I say, reaching for her water and giving it to her. “If we are going to have this conversation on why I want to be with you, then I’m going to do it with you understanding and listening to what I have to say.”

  “I’m listening, Justin.” She raises her fingers to her ears. “My listening ears are open.”

  “I want to kiss you,” I say, waiting to see if she says or does anything, and when her eyes only widen, I continue. “I want to take you into my arms, put my hands on your face, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of you.”

  “Oh, my,” she says, “I think I need water.”

  “I want to sit with you and learn everything about you. I don’t care what you wear.” I lean in, and her breath hitches, and her tongue pokes out to lick her lips. “Although I have to say that seeing you wear my clothes is putting me in a very difficult position.” I look down at my cock that has been rock hard since I sat down next to her and she put my sweater on. Her eyes move down, and she must see my outline because she leans forward again.

  “More water,” she says, drinking. “Definitely need more water.”

  “We both have a past,” I say. “How do you know I’m not ashamed of the shit I’ve done or what has happened to me? How do you know that we might have a bit more in common than you think?”

  She puts her glass of water down and takes a deep breath. “My cell phone got cut off yesterday,” she says and doesn’t stop talking. “To top it all off, my scumbag of an ex stole my kid’s hockey stuff and pawned it, and now they want two hundred dollars.”

  I don’t think I can hear anything more without wanting to flip the table over and go hunt down her ex. “Tonight, you take my phone,” I say, and she shakes her head.

  “I’m not taking your phone,” she huffs. “I’m just pointing out how different our lives are.”

  “What if you need to call 911?” I ask, and then I play dirty. “What if something happens to Dylan, and you can’t call for help?” I take my own glass of water, and I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand. I’m so angry about what she just told me. I take a sip of the ice-cold water, but it’s hard to swallow. “And fuck the equipment. We got him a spare bag.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to pay for that,” she says.

  “Neither should you,” I say. She’s about to argue with me when the door opens, and Dylan comes skipping back into the room.

  “Mom, there is a guy, and he tosses the pizza into the sky.” He mimics tossing a pizza in the air with his arms. “Then he catches it.”

  “Really?” she says, and he climbs into the chair next to me.

  “And Lara let me make my own pizza,” he says. “I did a meat lover’s because I need some meat on these bones.” He slaps his stomach, and we both laugh. I look over at her and see her eyes glistening with tears, but for once, I don’t think they’re sad tears.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Caroline

  My head is spinning for a couple of reasons. I’m sure the wine is playing a part in it, but his words are making it spin more. Dylan is going on and on about something with Justin, and the only thing I can hear in my head is I want to kiss you. It doesn’t help that his smell is all around me because of his ginormous sweater. I had to roll the sleeves just to get them over my hands.

  I pick up my wine by accident and take a sip, putting it down and then looking over at Justin who just smirks. “If you really want to sleep over, sweetheart …”

  “It was an accident,” I say and then pick up the glass of water and finish the whole thing. “I need more water.”

  “Do you now?” He smiles, and Lara comes in with
a tray and places it in the middle of the table.

  “This are just little samples,” she says. I look at the tray of what she calls “little samples,” and it’s enough food to last a week. “Little meatballs, garlic bread, calamari, bruschetta, sausage and rapini and arugula salad.” She smiles and puts down a stack of white plates in front of me.

  “I want meatballs,” Dylan says. “And the sausage.” He looks at Justin and scrunches his nose. “No green stuff.”

  Lara throws her head back and laughs. “Is there anything specific you want to eat for the main?”

  “The main?” I ask, and then look at Justin, leaning in. “What does she mean by that?”

  “I think a couple of pizzas and maybe a penne vodka and a spaghetti would be good,” he tells her, and she smiles and nods at us.

  “Did you just order more food?” I ask Justin, who is already filling a plate for Dylan and then putting a bit of everything on one for me.

  He puts the plate down in front of me and the smell of garlic and tomatoes hits my nose right away, making my mouth water. “Eat, sweetheart,” he says softly, and my stomach feels like it just did a wave. No one has ever called me that.

  I look over at Dylan who has just destroyed the meatball and is asking Justin for another one. His mouth is covered in sauce. “So how many sisters did you say you had again?” I ask him as I take my first bite of the meatball, and it has to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.

  “Three,” he says, chewing. “Allison is the oldest girl.” He smiles. “Then the twins, Zara and Zoe.” His eyes light up when he talks about his family.

  “So you’re the baby?” I ask him again, this time eating a piece of the calamari. It melts in my mouth.

  “Matthew is the oldest,” he says, looking at Dylan. “The guy who called me when I was driving.” Dylan couldn’t care less what he is saying as he eats his food.

  “How much older?” I ask him.

  “Eighteen years,” he says, and my eyes open wide. “Were you an oops?”