Leave Me Breathless: The Ivy Collection

by KL Donn

  His tongue slides between my lips, exploring my mouth slowly, stoking the flames of the desire heating my core. And just when I thought he would lean back, he presses in. Then he drops his hands to my waist and pulls me toward him.

  My entire body hums at his gentle dominance. I grab his shoulders, then begin sliding my hands up his neck toward his wavy locks. When I reach his ears, I stop myself because I don’t want him to do the same. Instead, I rub the back of his neck softly.

  After a few seconds he breaks off the kiss and glances at Paige. I follow his gaze, while trying to bring my heart rate down.

  “I should bring her inside,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Yeah, she’d be more comfortable in bed.”

  “Me too.” His voice is sexy and full of promise. He raises one eyebrow, then leans over and pecks my lips one more time before opening his door.

  While I scramble out of the car, Sylvain retrieves Paige from the backseat and carries her inside. As he puts her to bed, I run to the bathroom to freshen up.

  My heart pounds as I adjust my wig in the mirror. Even though it fits perfectly and looks exactly like my real hair, I’m self-conscious. Not about the quality of the beautiful wig that one of the parents at Explorer had specially made for me, but I’m worried it will fall off or shift if we get hot and heavy.

  Sylvain doesn’t know I had cancer and I’m not ready to tell him.

  I just want to feel normal. I want to be able to make out with a hot guy without worrying about my wig falling off. I don’t want to worry about whether someone will break up with me when I tell them I can’t have children.

  I want to feel like I felt before my diagnosis.

  Though I’m extremely thankful to be alive, I’m not this powerful cancer warrior some people expect me to be. Someday, I hope to feel like that. Maybe when I’m removed from it for a few years, I’ll be able to step back and look at it from a different perspective. Right now, I don’t have the motivational speaker energy that I had while I was neck-deep in the battle.

  I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman trying to adjust to my new life as a survivor–massive medical debt and sterility.

  I’m just trying to make it through each day hoping people don’t ask me about it so I don’t have to rehash the experience.

  Though I care about how I present myself, I’ve never been a vain person. My hair or looks never defined me—until I lost them both. Then I had my hysterectomy, and I lost the system that makes me a woman and having to deal with that and losing my hair was too much to bear all at once.

  Anxiety pulses through my veins, making me more and more self-conscious every time my heart pumps. I lower the lid on the toilet and sit down, hoping the paralyzing fear will pass. Instead of going back out there and continuing what Sylvain and I started, I’ll probably just sneak into my bedroom—avoiding the situation completely.

  I’ve been in the bathroom for less than three minutes when I hear Paige screaming—and Sylvain pleading.

  “No! Daddy! Don’t go!”

  “Paige, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be in the living room.”

  I jump up and run into the hallway.

  “I want you to lay with me.”

  “Paige—"

  “Lay with me, Daddy!”

  “Shhhh, I’m right here, sweet girl. I’ll lay with you.”

  My heart hurts for her. I know how scary it feels to wake up in an unfamiliar place, groggy and disoriented.

  Being in the hospital alone made me feel like a child again. Only, I never had a parent who laid with me or eased my fears. My mother has always been focused on herself and how things affect her life.

  When I was diagnosed, you would have thought it was her by the way she talked about it to anyone who would listen. She wanted every bit of the attention I shunned away from.

  She only came to the hospital to visit me during the day when other people would be there to see what a doting mother she was. There were pictures all over social media. Long posts about how afraid she was for me, but with her help, I made it through like a champ. Scores of people commented. Sending their prayers to her and wishes for a quick recovery to me. But I noticed she only responded to the comments that were directed to her. And I only noticed because she’s been the same way for my entire life.

  14

  EMMA

  The next morning, neither Sylvain nor I mention the kiss, but I notice the tiny changes. Like how his arm skims mine when we pass each other or the smiles he shoots me from across the room. It’s been years since I had a guy’s attention, not just because I got sick, but also because I wasn’t seeing anyone before that.

  It’s our last day in Raleigh, and I want to take Paige to do something fun while Sylvain is at practice, but I literally have no money. Sylvain gave me some cash on the first day, and I tried to make it last, but we went to some big-ticket places, so it didn’t last long.

  Before Sylvain leaves, I catch him. “Hey! Um, do you know when I’ll get my first paycheck?”

  After a sweet and semi-flirty morning, it’s almost as if a cloud of darkness passes over his face. “You haven’t even worked a full week yet. Do you normally get paid after four days?” His tone is harsh, almost irritated.

  I’m confused because I didn’t think my question was out of line or rude, especially since we never discussed the logistics of when and how I’ll be paid.

  “No.” I shake my head, hoping to diffuse his unexpected anger radiating from him. “No, but I wanted to take Paige to the movies today and I have zero dollars to my name.” I fiddle nervously with the small, cubic zirconia stud in my ear, unable to look him in the eye. “Being out of work for five months was a bit rough.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he nods, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. “Sorry about that. I was just—” He plucks two bills out and inspects them—both fives. “This won’t be enough. Here,” He hands me his credit card. “Use this for anything you guys need.”

  I hold my hands up, waving the card away. “Ten dollars is cool. We’ll just grab ice cream or something.”

  Outside, Nik beeps twice, informing us of his arrival. Sylvain glances toward the door, then presses the bills and his credit card into my hand. “It’s your last day in Raleigh. You girls should live it up.” He reaches down and lifts his duffel bag from the floor before heading for the exit. “We’ll talk about getting you an advance on your paycheck on the ride home.”

  I can’t help but smile as I clutch the card.

  I’ve known Paige Bergeron since she was a year old. I’ve watched her—maybe even influenced her—during each stage of her life. That’s why I’m cursing myself for forgetting that I’ve never witnessed her sit through an entire movie. Not even the hottest new flick that every kid wants to see, and won’t stop talking about until they do.

  Paige doesn’t care.

  So instead of watching the movie, I spend the afternoon chasing her around the theater lobby, then back into the theater to watch the film for five minutes, getting popcorn, going to the bathroom, playing the claw arcade game, getting raisins and M&Ms, going back into the theater, and stopping her from knocking down a huge cardboard advertisement for the next cinematic blockbuster.

  Rinse and repeat.

  After an hour and a half of that, I’m ready to take a nap, but Paige isn’t. Instead of fight it, I take her to a park hoping to get some of that energy out. I hate that I can’t keep up with her, but I’m trying to respect my limitations while my body recovers.

  “Watch me, Emma!” Paige yells every time she races to a different piece of equipment. This time, she hanging upside down from the monkey bars.

  The movies had seemed like the best bet on a day that turned out to be chilly and dreary. Dark clouds loom above and it looks like it could pour at any moment.

  Paige’s energy is non-stop. I knew that to an extent, but after five straight days with her, she’s got me exhausted. Granted, I’m still a bit weak from treatment and I get ti
red fast.

  She runs to the slide, climbs up the stairs quickly, and stands on the top.

  My heart leaps into my throat.

  “Sit down,” I call up to her. She doesn’t. “Paige, sit! On your—” I stop to think of a fun term so she’ll be more prone to listen. “Booty. Sit on your booty to go down the slide, please.”

  “Booty!” She laughs, but thankfully she drops to her bottom and slides down. When her feet hit the ground, she takes off toward the exit.

  I run after her. “Paige! Wait!”

  I wasn’t really worried about not being able to catch up to her, because, ya know, she’s four, how fast can she go?

  But just as I close in, she stops and squats down, inspecting something on the ground.

  I try to stop, but it’s too late. To avoid running right into her, I leap up and hurdle her instead. As awesome as I’m sure the high jump looked to the five other people in the park, I did not stick my landing. Instead, I bite it hard, falling face first into the wood chips. Thankfully, I’d thrown out my hands to break my fall, so my face stayed splinter-free.

  I twist onto my side and sit up. Then I brush wood chips off my T-shirt. No harm done. Paige runs up to me and puts her tiny hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay, Emma?” she asks, her eyes wide with concern.

  “Yeah, Paiger.” I smile through the pain. “I’m good.”

  “I saw a butterfly,” she explains. “Sorry I hurt you.” She removes her hand and holds it out to me.

  I take her hand and let her “help” me up, though I do most of the work. The thoughtfulness of the toddler sends a pang through my chest.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mean to trip me. Thank you for helping me up. That was really nice.”

  At that moment, the sky opens up, and the rain comes down hard and fast, drenching us both within seconds. I scoop her up and run for the shelter of the car.

  “It’s raining! It’s pouring!” Paige laughs like a maniac as I carry her.

  She giggles as I unlock Sylvain’s car and wait in the pouring rain for her to climb in.

  “What’s funny?” I ask as I helped her into her booster seat.

  But four-year-olds don’t answer questions when you try to strap a seatbelt over them. They just arch their backs and thrash around while you stand outside the car getting more drenched.

  “Paige. Come on. Let me—” I start, but she just wiggles and turns and flips so her butt faces up. “Really, dude?”

  “I’m an ostrich!”

  “There’s no sand in the car, silly. You can be an ostrich on the beach.”

  She wiggles her butt in response.

  Awesome.

  “Do you want me to go to jail? If you don’t get buckled, a police officer will take me to jail.”

  “No way!” Paige’s voice is muffled, since her face is buried in the backseat, but there’s no doubt the kid is laughing at me. And still shaking her butt.

  Of course that doesn’t work. Kids don’t understand the concept of jail.

  “Paige.” I wipe rain off my face as I rack my brain for a way to get her to listen. The first thing that pops into my head is bribery. Rarely do I resort to it, but here in the pouring rain, I have no choice. “Do you wanna stop and get a Slurpee before we go back?”

  She stops shaking her butt and turns in her seat. “We can get Slurpees?” she asks with wide eyes, cocking her head slightly as if she doesn’t believe me.

  “Yep.”

  And just like that, she settled into her seat and lets me buckle her in.

  Bribery. Works every time.

  True to my word, we stop at 7-Eleven and get Slurpees before I take her back to the condo. Between the amount of sugar in the M&M’s and soda she had at the movie theater, and the bonus sugar in the Slurpee, this kid is sure to crash this afternoon.

  15

  SYLVAIN

  I’m already home from practice when I hear two doors slam and one set of feet running up the sidewalk. I jump off the couch and rush to the door, pulling it open so Emma and Paige can escape the shower quickly. My daughter raises a multi-colored cup to me. That and the blue stain circling her mouth is the telltale sign of a Slurpee stop.

  Emma bends over and reluctantly sets a sopping wet Paige down. When she stands up, she folds her arms over her chest, covering what her wet, white T-shirt would reveal. In trying to avoid looking directly at her rack, I scan her from top to bottom, then back up again.

  I reach out and I brush back some wet hair plastered to her forehead. “You look good wet,” I say without thinking.

  “I, um.” She dips her head and tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear as if embarrassed.

  “I mean, you’re a pretty girl, even when you’re all wet. I—” I shut my mouth and shove my hands in my pockets, willing myself to stop talking. “I thought you were going to see a movie?”

  “It’s raining! It’s pouring!” Paige sings as she strips off her coat and tosses it to the floor.

  Instead of coming inside, Emma stays on the front porch dripping. “Can you grab me a towel?” she asks.

  “Yes, when you come in. You don’t have to stay on the porch.”

  She looks around uncomfortably. “But it’s so clean in here and I know you—”

  “Emma!” I interrupt. “Get your ass inside.”

  She laughs, stepping into the foyer before closing the door behind her. When I hear the refrigerator open, I spin around. “Paige, what do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

  “Milk.”

  I stare at my daughter with a raised eyebrow.

  “Milk please.” She amends her request. I grab the carton out of the fridge and a plastic cup out of the cupboard above the sink.

  “We went to a movie. Sort of. She still doesn’t sit for an entire movie, does she?” Emma asks, bracing herself on the wall as she removes her black and pink tennis shoes.

  “I didn’t want to say anything because I never know how she’s going to act for other people,” I say as I twist the cap onto the milk and put it in the fridge. Then I remember what I was supposed to be doing. “Let me grab that towel.”

  As she waits, I run to the hall closet and grab a fluffy white towel.

  “I don’t want to drip all over the floor,” she explains.

  “It’s okay,” I assure her. What do I care? It’s not my stuff and a housekeeper comes in every day here. It’s glorious.

  After drying off, Emma takes a tentative step into the living room. “She was good at the movie, for about thirty minutes. Then she wanted to get up and walk around. So we did. We ran around the lobby, played in the game section.”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t warn you.” I glance at Emma, who’s handing Paige the milk I poured a minute ago.

  My heart jumps into my throat. Ever since we kissed, I’ve been walking a tightrope between how I should act moving forward—boss or boyfriend. It’s not an easy decision, especially because my neglected cock thinks it should have extra votes. Seeing how great she is with Paige doesn’t help clear the fog, either. If I step into the boyfriend side, I run the risk of fucking everything up and losing an amazing nanny.

  “It’s okay. Seriously.” Emma waves dismissively at me. “I should’ve realized she’s still a little young for a movie. We went to a park afterward. That’s how we got drenched.”

  “I found a beautiful butterfly, Daddy!” Paige exclaims. Then she lowers her head. “But I hurt Emma.”

  I freeze. “What?”

  “No!” Emma assures me. “She squat down to look at a butterfly while I was running after her and I tripped over the poor girl. Almost landed on her, but I veered into the woodchips.” She laughs and brushes her palms against each other as if the memory brings the dirt back to her hands.

  “Why don’t you both go get some dry clothes on. I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

  “Come on, Paige. I’ll help you change. Do I get hot chocolate, too?” Emma asks with a sexy smile as she scoots p
ast me. It might be my aroused imagination, but I’m pretty sure she brushes against my crotch on purpose.

  “Of course.” I say out loud. As she passes, I hold on to her arm to keep her in place for a moment and whisper, “I’m going to like watching creamy, hot liquid slide down your throat.”

  A smile spreads across her face and pink floods her cheeks with each breath. She looks scandalized—but not offended. “I’ll be there in a minute, Paige,” she calls before hurrying to her room.

  Maybe it was a bit much, but at least she doesn’t have to guess when it comes to how I feel about her.

  As the girls change, I head to the kitchen, grab the milk and tin of hot chocolate mix, and get to work. Getting into any physical relationship with Emma didn’t cross my mind until very recently, but ever since the kiss, we’ve been trying to deny the obvious attraction.

  When she comes back, sexual tension permeates the air. She must feel it too. While I’m stirring the steaming mugs, she leans over my shoulder and presses her breasts against my back.

  “Looks delicious,” she whispers.

  Her sexy, hushed voice makes my skin tingle. I need to taste her again. I know I should stop myself, but I can’t. I turn around and slide my palm against her cheek. When she tilts her head into my hand, it gives me the permission I need to lean in and place my lips on hers.

  Kissing Emma sends all the blood to my dick and I feel like a teenager again. Back in the days when the only things that mattered were getting off and playing hockey.

  I haven’t gotten off with a woman in a long time. Some guys can do the hook up thing, but I can’t. Since having a daughter, I’m constantly thinking about how I treat women. And hooking up isn’t a thing I do anymore.

  Nik teases me because we both know Paige would never know if I had a one-night stand. But the truth is, people talk and things get published in the paper or on social media. If I were fucking everything that walks, that shit would get back to her when she’s old enough to do a Google search. And what girl wants to find out her dad was a fucking man whore?