by Vesper Young
Lucas was silent for a moment. “Actually, I may have misplaced it. Let’s see if we can find it.”
“Dork,” I muttered.
Then we collided. His lips were against mine and my body pressed against his. I felt every hard muscle of his body against me. I could feel how much he wanted me and I wondered if he could taste the desperation in my kiss. Our hands were everywhere at once, pulling, grasping. He grabbed my hips and lifted me. I didn’t care what was happening, as long as he didn’t stop touching me because I needed his touch. I needed everything his and I needed it now, now, now.
At some point later Lucas seemed to remember where he’d left his bed because we wound up in it. We kissed until I was sure my lips would be bruised, then explored each other’s bodies. Though we’d had plenty of each other last night—and this morning—I felt far from sated. No, last night had whet my appetite. Now, I craved every inch of Lucas. I wanted his touch and kiss and everything else that came with him.
Lucas, true to his word, didn’t waste a minute of the night I gave him. By the time I fell asleep beside him, my body was slick with sweat and I was deliciously tender. With my back pressed against him, I fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in years.
I didn’t remember where I was when I woke up. My eyes opened in reluctant slits, taking in the surroundings without fully waking up. Half-asleep, I wriggled closer to his body. The air was frosty this morning, but inside the bed was nice and toasty. Slowly, the night came back to me. We’d been up until the early hours, neither of us wanting to let the other go. In the end, I’d fallen asleep next to him. I looked at my surroundings. The bedroom wasn’t decorated much more than the rest of the apartment. A wide, dark wood desk in one corner, covered in electronics with a chair tucked in front. A nightstand on the side of the bed closest to me was the only other furniture. On it was an alarm clock, suspiciously similar to the one he’d had as a college student. Possibly the very same one.
A glance at the clock showed it was after ten o’clock. I blinked slowly, reading the red numbers a few times. I hadn’t slept this late in ages. A minor dose of panic coursed through my veins until I remembered Ryan would still be upstate until tomorrow.
I was tempted to let sleep cascade back over me and give in to the gentle waves of drowsiness that lingered seductively in the back of my mind. If I was more honest, it was less the thought of sleep and more the thought of sleeping in Lucas's arms. At the moment, Lucas's arms pinned me close to him. We’d fallen asleep late last night right where we were. I hadn’t even bothered to ask for a sleep shirt, so right now his arm was tight against my naked stomach. Lucas was wearing just as much as I was, which meant if I eased back I’d be able to feel every single inch of his body. It was incredibly tempting.
I would’ve given in to it, too, if I hadn’t just remembered even if my son wasn’t waiting at home, I did have one person who would be expecting me today. A glance at the clock warned me I had to get my rear in gear if I wanted to head home, shower, change, and get across town in time.
I began trying to extricate myself from Lucas's grip, a task far harder than it appeared. I moved slowly. Inch, by inch, trying not to shift the blankets abruptly. Behind me, Lucas's breaths were even and deep. His grip, however, wasn’t giving an inch.
Okay, this wasn’t working. I shifted and tried to grab his arm lightly and move it off me and onto the bed.
The second my fingers grazed him, his muscles tightened in defiance. His breaths stopped coming easily.
“Leaving so soon?” His voice was sleep-roughened and sexy, so much so I involuntarily clenched my legs in response.
“Yep,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant even as my heart had already started racing. I hoped he wouldn’t notice my immediate reaction to him.
“Hmm. You don’t sound sure.”
His arm swung slightly lower, tickling me as it moved across my bare skin. Lucas never eased up on his grip though. I was still pinned against him and if he kept going any lower, it would take a crowbar to get me out of bed.
His finger dipped and I shivered. “I have to go.”
His hand stilled, and I wanted to grind against it to get the sensation back. One stroke, and I was wanton in his arms.
Still, I’d be darned if I turned into a flake because of some man. Even if he was incredibly sexy and naked with me in bed and touching me in a way that would make flaking totally understandable.
“Lucas, I have a date,” I whined.
I felt him tense behind me and realized my mistake.
“A brunch date,” I clarified. “With my friend, Mindy.”
The tension leaked out of Lucas and he relaxed his grip. I mourned the loss of contact, but I had places to be.
I rolled out of bed and looked around for my clothes. Lucas watched me, arms propped up, taking in every movement. Part of me wanted to go slow and put on a show, but that would just get me back into bed when my freedom was so hard-won in the first place.
I slid my pants on and reached for my discarded shirt.
Finally dressed, I stood awkwardly. I had to leave, but I also had to say something.
“Lucas, listen,” I started. He heaved a dramatic sigh. “What?” I demanded.
“This is the part where you tell me it’s a one-time thing, and it was to get ‘it’ out of our system and we’ll be professional and you’re about three steps from giving me a restraining order while trying not to eye-fuck me. Babe, it’s getting a little old.”
Heat rushed to my face. First, embarrassment, because minus the sarcasm it was very close to what I was about to say, and then anger, because I had a right to say it.
“I’m serious,” I said.
I couldn’t track how fast Lucas moved across the bed, but one second he was lying there, and the next second he sprung up.
“No, Kara I’m serious. Clearly, you feel a bit weird about things, and I’m trying to be understanding. If you want to go slow, that’s fine. You say slow, we go slow. But stop saying stop, because you say that, and then you regret it.” His brown eyes pierced me, as if they bore into my soul and now he was seeing every inch of me and couldn’t stop looking. “Haven’t we regretted enough? Wasted enough time?”
“Okay, yes, things were good. But—”
“Are. They are good, right now. Open your eyes, Kara. Not everyone gets something like this, even when they look. We’ve gotten lucky twice.”
I wanted to look away. There was something between us bright and blinding, but I couldn’t make myself look anywhere but Lucas's face. He was so sincere. I felt it in my bones that he meant every word he said.
“Kara, if you’re not ready, I’ll wait. But stop denying what’s between us.” He crooked a finger and ran it under my chin, tilting my head up slightly. “Be with me.”
I chewed my lip, unsure what to say. How could I say no when my heart was chanting yes with every beat? How could I turn away from him again? My brain told me Lucas was still riding high off this rollercoaster of a weekend and nostalgia, but my body believed him utterly.
“Look. Think about it. Go on your date”—he gave me a significant look at that word, which was almost playful—“and give me your answer on Tuesday when the furniture comes in. Whatever you tell me, yes, no, I’ll listen. Just think about it.”
I nodded. I didn’t have words. If I did, I would’ve said yes and I just wasn’t sure yet.
15. Kara
I texted Mindy I’d be a few minutes late when I got home, then took the world’s fastest shower. My hair was nearly hopeless, so I tossed it in a messy bun. It was Sunday brunch. No one looked put together at Sunday brunch.
The bus schedules aligned just so that I made it almost on time. I found her at our usual table. We made a point to get brunch at least once a month together, more if we could swing it. Sometimes she came to my place, sometimes I went to hers, but when neither of us wanted to cook, we came to a fancy little place uptown.
She was dressed in pastels, which were an
odd choice for winter, but fashion was Mindy’s slave, not the other way around. She looked good. Married life had been treating her well. A year ago she’d agreed to act as her boss's girlfriend, then wife, and hadn’t been able to confide in me. In the end, she and her husband, Deacon, had decided to stay together. He was good to her. And whenever he was in the room, she couldn’t stop smiling.
I headed over, apology on my lips. Mindy had doubtlessly gotten there early, but she assured me it was fine.
“And good morning to you,” she said with a smile. “You’re practically glowing. If I didn’t know better I’d say I had a strong suspicion about why you were late.”
My shocked look must’ve given me away.
“No,” she said with a gasp. “Ooh, tell me everything.”
Everything. Since it was Mindy, I did. She knew bits and pieces about Ryan’s dad. We’d met in college at the start of my sophomore year. We hadn’t been especially close, but she’d become my friend and didn’t treat me like I was an alien just because I was pregnant. She’d always been good about not judging.
“So he just showed up as your new boss?” she asked.
I nodded. “Isn’t it crazy?”
“Very crazy. And you haven’t told him about Ryan?”
I shook my head. “Does that make me a terrible person? I know he has the right to know, I just can’t make myself say the words.”
She gave me a sympathetic pat on the hand. “It makes you cautious.”
I blew air out my lips, sending some stray hairs that had drifted down flying. “Me. Cautious. I don’t know that Lucas could even recognize that side of me.”
“That side of you is a mother. You’re very protective when it comes to Ryan, and by extension your own heart.”
“I guess.” That did make sense.
“By the way, on the subject and all, how was becoming a mother?”
I shrugged. “You were there, remember?” She’d been one of the few people I could trust to babysit in a pinch.
Mindy sighed. “I remember it wasn’t easy. But I thought it would be good to hear your perspective now.”
I gave my friend a contemplative look. “Something changing?” I got excited. “Wait, are you pregnant?” It couldn’t be. She’d had a mimosa with her pancakes.
“No, no. Deacon and I have been, um, talking, is all. It’s silly to think we got married without discussing anything, but, you know how it was.”
“A bit unorthodox,” I filled in.
She held her fingers a nanometer apart. “Just a smidge. So we’ve been talking. He wants to do a big proper wedding, like a renewal of our vowels on our second anniversary. Is that tacky?”
“Who cares? Dibs on maid of honor.”
“So, how was it? The pregnancy?”
I took a bite of my waffle. “I mean, it was hard. The hardest thing I’d ever done. But I knew it was right for me. The circumstances weren’t ideal. As you know, my parents weren’t providing any help and not every professor felt a pregnant woman belonged in their seminars. Sometimes I hate that they were right and I had to quit.”
You didn’t quit, you paused, a voice said in my head. It sounded distinctly like Lucas.
“But I love Ryan more than I imagine I could have loved anyone. Every late night and long day was worth it. Although when he went through the phase of playing with his own poop, I liked him a bit less,” I said with a grimace.
Mindy nodded like I was handing down veritable pearls of wisdom.
“The reality was, nothing anyone said would have prepared me for motherhood. I second-guessed myself almost daily in the beginning. But in the end, I got an awesome kid, so something went right.”
“Ryan is awesome,” Mindy agreed. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Anyway, back to you and Lucas. What are you thinking about what he said this morning?”
I slid another bite of waffle in my mouth to buy a moment to think. “I just don’t know what to think about it.”
“Then how do you feel?”
“How do I feel? When I’m around him, I’m just about delirious with happiness. That’s what makes thinking so hard. My brain shuts off and I’m convinced I’m going to do something stupid.”
Mindy rolled her eyes. “Following your heart wouldn’t be stupid. You can let people in. Trust me, I get that it can be hard. I kept expecting Deacon to suddenly disappear on me. But he didn’t. And from what you’ve told me about Lucas, he isn’t the type to just pick up and run either.”
I went to take another bite of waffle but my plate was tragically empty. Stress eating was rough. “I mean, is he even supposed to stay? Would he want to be a father? You never met him, but if you did, you’d be able to tell. He’s meant to do things. Big, great things. I’m not a big, great kind of girl. I’m happy with Ryan and working at the bar, no matter what he says.” I muttered the last bit, more to myself.
“Isn’t raising Ryan a great, big thing?”
I shrugged. “To me, yes. But how can I know if he’ll feel the same way?”
“You can’t until you tell him.”
And that was the catch-22. I sighed. The waitress took that chance to check in on us, and I took the opportunity to order another waffle. This was a two-waffle conversation, minimum.
“How do you like working with him?” Mindy asked.
I considered for a moment. “Honestly, I really enjoy it. Lucas said the furniture is arriving Tuesday and I’m really excited to help set up everything.” Tuesday was pretty much the slowest day of the week, and since we weren’t changing things that much, I figured we could get it all done in one day. “I like the work. It does feel nice to be doing what I originally went to school for.”
“How many hours are you putting in with this?”
I ran off some mental math. “Maybe twenty hours a week extra?”
“And he’s around for your bartending shifts. That’s a lot of hours to spend with someone,” Mindy remarked.
I hadn’t really noticed. “Maybe it’s because of the day schedule.” I’d originally gotten nighttime work since it was hard to find people who could babysit during normal working hours. Now that Ryan was in school, the necessity wasn’t there anymore.
“Maybe,” Mindy said. “Though I nearly killed Deacon a few times when I was his secretary. We weren’t even in the same room, but that many hours with someone can put your sanity to the test.”
The waitress arrived at just that moment and placed a steaming hot waffle with mounds of whipped cream in front of me. I thanked her and used that break to turn the conversation back to Mindy’s upcoming vow-renewal-slash-wedding. And then I chewed on my warm confection while I tried not to choke on all the thoughts stirring through my head.
***
I picked Ryan up from school at three the next day on the dot. My parents had dropped off his suitcase and whatnot after taking him to school—which they’d done late, something I tried not to mind. I kept reminding myself missing a morning wasn’t the end of the world while I listened to them give me a run-down of the weekend. They’d refused to meet Ryan for the first few years of his life. It was hard to forgive them for that. My father had been the one to extend an olive branch. Once they’d met my son, they’d fallen in love. They absolutely doted on him, and took no small amount of pleasure when detailing all the things they’d done with Ryan. My mother managed to intersperse a bit of extra criticism in her recount of the weekend.
It had taken a larger than normal amount of restraint not to say, I’m sorry my house isn’t orderly enough for your satisfaction. I know you thought I would take this opportunity to dust every nook and cranny, but instead, I had hot, wild sex with my boss. But that would’ve gotten a lecture on responsible parent conduct the likes of which I didn’t care to hear.
And, as I learned from listening to Ryan talk as we rode the subway home from school, good grandparent conduct apparently meant ice cream was just fine for breakfast, lunch, and dessert, so long as he ate at least two slices of pizza f
or dinner. My father had explained to Ryan as long as he ate pepperoni, that counted as sufficient protein and no one could say otherwise.
I didn’t mind that they indulged their grandchild. Really. But some of what they did rubbed me the wrong way. Like they were too polite to flat out call me an awful parent, but it was always on the tip of their tongue, while they wasted no time parenting Ryan according to their own rules.
Still, Ryan liked seeing his grandparents, so I’d stomach as many sarcastic rebukes as it took if it meant giving my son a happy childhood.
“Mom, I have to interview you,” Ryan told me once we were back at the apartment.
“What for?”
“A school project. We’re supposed to interview our family. I already did Grandma and Grandpa,” he explained.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get us a snack.”
I got some milk and cookies—milk had at least as much protein as pepperoni, in my book—and sat in a chair waiting while Ryan set up. He stuck a pencil behind his ear and had another in his hand. I glanced over at the sheet he was filling out.
Every year it seemed there was some project like this. When Ryan’s kindergarten celebrated Father’s Day, we’d had the first of a few talks about our family. He’d understood without too many questions. Some people had a mom and a dad. Some people had two moms or two dads. Some had stepparents. Some just had one. Ryan just had me. It had helped that Mindy had come from a vaguely similar situation, since her dad had died when she was young. He’d asked if his father was dead, too, and I’d told him no. For a year, that had been the end of it. Next June, there were a few more questions, and more the one after that. This third-grade project looked a bit more demanding, but not too bad.
“What’s your name?” he asked. He put on his fanciest accent for the interview and I cracked a smile.
“Kara Louise Iver.”
“How are we related, Ms. Iver?”
“I’m your mother.”
And we went from there. What did I do? I was a bartender. What was my favorite part of my job? Making people happy. What was he getting for Christmas? Nice try, kiddo, but I knew that wasn’t on the sheet. Which reminded me I had to finish up Christmas shopping next weekend when Ryan went on his class trip.