by Paige North
“You could’ve done it without me, too,” she says.
“But it’s more fun with you.” I smile. She smiles, too.
As she stares out the window with a wholly satisfied grin on her face, I get a call. I told the office not to bother me, that I’d be doing something important and couldn’t be interrupted, but I’m surprised to find it’s social services. I hadn’t expected to hear from them in a while. The woman on the other end begins to tell me something…
Bailey’s face turns back to me, questioning if I’m alright.
I hold up a finger as I listen.
Noelia and her boyfriend have done it again. Except it’s much worse than fraud this time. She’s really gone off the deep end, full-fledged into drugs, and while they were hoping she’d recover and fall back into her role as mother, it seems she’s gone and committed armed robbery this time.
“Quite a tragic situation,” the woman says, “and so we’re going to need you to come in and sign some papers, Mr. Hawthorn. I’ll follow up with your lawyers in the morning, but considering the baby’s mother will be in prison for a very long time, it would appear that Olivia will be residing with you indefinitely.”
“Not a problem,” I tell her, my chest expanding with a new type of fear and exhilaration I’ve never felt. I’m going to be a full-time dad. Olivia’s going to come home. “I’m ready immediately, so please let me know if there’s anything I can do to speed up the process.”
The woman explains that they will be moving as fast as possible to have Olivia transferred—yet again—one last time.
Back where she belongs…
Hanging up, I sigh and Bailey asks, “What was that?”
“Olivia’s coming home for good,” I say, and my voice is hoarse with unexpected emotion.
It’s hard to decide if a shriek is loud or not when your eardrums are getting blown out by your fiancée’s happiness. Octopus arms encircle me, and my face becomes a blank canvas for a new type of lipstick kiss art. Which I’m good with.
I explain the whole situation to Bailey, and we both agree that while it’s tragic, it’s the best course of action for Olivia. Hopefully, she’ll never remember this back-and-forth custody thing and she can begin a normal, healthy and full life.
At the bed and breakfast, first thing I do is take Bailey back to the small but cozy bedroom and rake her into my arms. Between the happiness and stress, we kiss, tumbling over our feet, shoes, and clothes, and I swear, it’s like coming home and checking my stress at the door. I’ve been away at war.
At war with myself, that is, but the war is over.
I need this woman by my side forever—to kiss, to ravish, to play with, to raise Olivia with, to care for, to buy things for, to spoil, and spoil I will, because she deserves it. Anyone who can completely change my life course deserves a fucking medal, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she gets it.
But for now, she’ll be getting something else.
Wherever she wants it. However she wants it.
Because I love her, love making love to her, and want her to come at least three times before we head back out into the world.
Laying her down on the comfy bed, it’s hard to delve into foreplay and wait before the hardcore action, but luckily, she doesn’t want to wait either. It’s been too long for both of us. She pulls me into her body, wrapping her legs around me and holding me tight, like she’s afraid I might get away from her again, and I plow into her.
As always, she’s wet and ready, her sweet core flowing, inviting me into her world. I fall into it whole-heartedly. I’ve missed her. I’ve been existing, not living. I’ve been working, not enjoying life. This. This is the final piece.
We fit perfectly together. We always did.
Our love is different this time—it’s purposeful, possessive. It’s like what I imagined wedding-night sex used to be in the old days—more of a ritual for the purposes of consummating the marriage. Well, we’re consummating this alright, making it real and official, and it feels amazing.
“You’re mine, sweetheart,” I tell her over and over. “Mine. I love you so much, Bailey.”
She throws back her head, arching her body into me, as I drive into her, claim her, and make her come hard against my hip bones. “All yours,” she says, surrendering. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you….” Her muscles grip me tightly, drawing me in deeper.
I hold onto the headboard with one hand and drive deeper into her. “I won’t let you go again. Ever.” She feels so good around me, like the earth grounding me and the air allowing me to fly all at once. No flight in no airplane ever felt so right.
“I won’t let you,” she says, gripping my hair.
Hearing her voice again in my ear drives me crazy, and I slam my hips into hers, building up my longing to a fever pitch. It doesn’t take long. My body’s been calling out to her since the night she left, I’ve been holding my breath ever since she left me in the dark, and now it finally gets to see the light again.
I look into her eyes, kiss her cheeks and eyelashes, beautiful eyelashes of my woman. My Bailey. I could cry but I won’t. Instead, I come into her, wave after wave of spilling my seed into her, and I don’t care if she’s on the pill, and I don’t care if I’m not wearing a condom anymore. If we make a baby, I’m good with it. And if we don’t, because her body inherited her mom’s disorder, I’m good with that, too. Somehow, we’ll figure it out. Because it’s Bailey. My Bailey. My woman. We’ll talk about it and take whatever steps we need to succeed.
I lie beside her and breathe in our energy in silence.
Our breaths are in unison.
Together with Olivia, we’ll make a family. We’ll erase the past. We’ll create a new future, because guess who’s in control? We are. We get to decide. Ghosts are just ghosts. They can’t hurt us. I mourn the life I used to have, sure, but it’s not here anymore. We are. We’re here, and we get to decide. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure my girls are happy.
As long as they’ll have me.
Epilogue - BAILEY
When you have two little girls and another baby on the way, your third store location opening up in the City, and a cookout to get to at your parents’ in Connecticut, it can feel like your breath has been taken away. But that’s how it’s been ever since Zayden came back into my life—busy, busy, busy.
CEO of the ever-growing JetFlash and other new companies, Zayden still lives in the fast lane, is super driven and uber successful, and we go along with him everywhere. We fly, we drive, we move around with Daddy, and every so often, Daddy stays home for a month or two. Daddy is never too far, because Daddy adores his family, as I knew he would.
I love Zayden so much. He’s everything I could’ve ever hoped for. And more.
Home Sweet, my chain home goods store, caters to the average working family clientele and has taken off like I never would’ve imagined. We offer stylish and unique kitchen, bedroom, bath, and living room items, all in modern colors and styles at affordable prices. I don’t make the same income as Zayden, but hey, he’s been doing it longer, and wait ‘til all these kiddos are in school together—then I’m really going to give him a run for his money. I’m going to rule the world! It’ll be interesting to see who’s more successful—me or him.
Not like I’m competitive or anything.
Granted, it’s easier to own a business when you have the money to invest, and for that I’ll always be grateful to Zayden, but I’ve still had to put tons of hours of work, all while raising two little girls, and being a kickass mom. In case you’re wondering—no, I don’t use a nanny. Not that there’s anything wrong with hiring a nanny, I just love being a full hands-on mom too much. I love the challenge of trying to balance it all. I’m a perfectionist that way. Sometimes I recall how I almost took a teaching job in Perrysbug and told Zayden “no” to this beautiful life. One inch to the left, and life works out one way. One inch to the right…
I often think about what made me
change my mind that day, and I’m pretty sure it was instinct. Pure instinct. I just knew he was a good man in his heart. I knew he was telling the truth that day in my parents’ driveway, and most importantly, I knew he was ready for change.
Anyone looking back at our situation five years ago would’ve told me, like my mom tried to warn me, that Zayden wasn’t for me, that he was a tortured man who had to figure himself out first before he could be anyone’s knight in shining armor. That we were co-dependent in our ways, and sometimes we still are. Life’s not perfect; we still get into arguments, but we always solve them together.
Zayden’s been attending therapy every week since that day and has never missed a session. Sometimes, I’ll sit in—just because. It’s good to understand what he needs, so I can try and be there for him. He can’t do it alone. But holy crap, is he dedicated. That’s the word to describe my husband—dedicated. To his work, his wife, our family, my family, our beautiful daughter, Olivia, the precocious five-year-old who stole my heart almost five years ago, our three-year-old, Brooke, and now our little boy, Rain, on the way. Seven months pregnant and dying to see my precious boy already, I cannot believe my good fortune in life.
The landscape zips by, as Zayden drives, the backseat filled with giggles of two silly girls. I sit here smiling, because I can’t believe it. Sometimes, I’m fully in the moment with ketchup stains on my shirt while two little girls hover in the bathroom doorway singing Moana songs while I try to pee. Other times, I sit in the passenger seat of our Lexus and stare at my life, wondering, How did this happen???
Zayden glances at me and smiles. “What? What’s that goofy face for?”
“We did it. Look at our life, babe. We did it.”
He nods, hands on the wheel as we pull into my parents’ driveway. They moved to Connecticut to be closer to us and their grandchildren, and like us, never looked back. “It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
“It is.” It’s not just awesome. It’s miraculous that we’re even here. There was so much going against us.
We get out of the car, and I unbuckle Brooke while Zayden gets Olivia. Our children even look alike, with striking blonde hair and Zayden’s blue eyes. Olivia knows she has a mommy who will see her again one day, but right now is “away.” No more, no less. She knows I’m her stepmom and calls me Mimi, because it sounds like Mommy but with a twist.
“Yay, Nana and Pa’s house,” Olivia sings and runs to the front door of the white colonial with the red door. She wears her Moana tapa and pandana skirt complete with her Heart of Te Fiti shell necklace. Though she looks nothing like Moana, try telling her that. With the way she sings her heart out daily and ties her hair into a knot, she thinks she is Moana.
Already, we smell the BBQ smoking up the backyard. My dad’s left the garage open to showcase his beautiful handmade furniture to passersby, and the front door is, of course, open.
Olivia strolls in like she owns the place. “Nana! Pa! I’m home!”
Zayden and I laugh. Each of us holding one of Brooke’s hands, we walk up to the house and enter to the joyous sounds of my mom cracking up as she lifts Olivia into the air and hugs her. “There’s my little girl!” Mom smiles. I love how she’s never treated Olivia any differently than she does her own flesh-and-blood children and grandchildren. “Where’s my other princess?”
“Brooke’s the princess,” Olivia corrects her. “But I’m the chief!”
“Oh, how can I keep forgetting?” Mom pretends to be forgetful, and the girls laugh. Brooke runs up to Nana and hugs her legs then together, then my little girls run to the back of the house. As we follow them and Mom talks to me about the food and the weather and how she thought it was going to rain but thank goodness it didn’t, it quickly becomes apparent that we’re not just here for a BBQ.
The moment we step out the back French doors, everyone already here yells, “Surprise!” Blue streamers fly our way and blue balloons bounce in the September breezes. It’s a baby shower…for us!
Dad comes up and gives me a bear hug like I’m not even pregnant, then everyone else follows suit. My aunt and uncle are here, Grandma’s here, cousins I haven’t seen since last Christmas, our friends from the City…everyone. I’m overwhelmed with emotion. Even though it’s not my first baby shower, it feels like it. Everyone’s so excited that we’re having a boy, it may as well be a brand-new experience.
Zayden hugs and talks to everyone like they’re his family. Like they’re his own family. You’d never guess that he married into mine, because he blends in like nobody’s business. He gets along better with my cousins than even I do. My dad and uncle spend the entire BBQ baby shower chatting it up with Zayden, while I hang mostly with my mom and college girlfriends.
“I love the cowboy theme,” I tell Mom even though Zayden and I decided on a Noah’s ark theme for the baby’s room. But I still love it because she put so much effort into it.
“You like it? Grandma helped me. So did Vero.”
“Vero’s here?”
Zayden’s maid from back in the day no longer works for him, but from the moment I came back to live at the house, she was by my side, helping me with everything and even became one of my best friends. I haven’t seen her since she moved to LA to pursue her acting career.
“Yup. Right over there.” Mom points to a svelte, sexy woman hanging out in the corner surrounded by her husband and some of Dad’s friends. She’s always been a man magnet, that one.
I head over to say hi, and she gives me a big hug. I don’t know why I ever felt threatened by her. She was always so nice. It was just me in those early days, scared of my surroundings and insecure around all of Zayden’s women.
There are so many reminders of how far I’ve come—Zayden talking to my family, beer in hand, red and blue cushions from my very own store dotting the outdoor furniture, me and Vero talking like old friends, my own baby Brooke chasing her sister all around the yard…
To think we almost lost Olivia five years ago. To think she could be living a life of uncertainty and maybe even pain had she stayed with her mom while her mother goes through tough times. Never do I want to eliminate Olivia’s relationship with her mother. Never do I want to completely replace her either, but it finally became important enough to Zayden that we keep full custody of her, that we give her the best life we possibly can.
And so here we are.
I watch it all unfold like I’m behind a sheet of glass.
Life could not be better. Inside of me, Rain wriggles around, a sweet reminder that life goes on.
I cannot believe I found my soul mate in the weirdest of ways. Who knew, when I walked into that MetroLife Building, that it would yield me this? That five years later, I’d be married to my boss and we’d have three beautiful children. Who knew that my parents would live closer to me, and that Zayden and I could ever be this happy?
Glancing across the yard, I see him watching me. Zayden. He knows I’m thinking about it all, because this happens to me a lot. I get emotional, especially during this pregnancy. I fade away, step out of myself, and contemplate it all with childlike wonder. His smile tells me he feels the same. His eyes crinkle with dusty blue, and I know that if he had to do it all again—the pain, the loss, the heartbreak—just to reach me and the girls again, he’d do it.
‘Cause that’s what you do when you adore who you’re with.
You walk through fire time and time again just to meet them again.
And once you have them close, you hold on tight and never let go.
THE END
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And now, continue reading this ebook to find the excerpt from Devil In A Suit by Ivy Carter.
Excerpt: Devil In A Suit by Ivy Carter
Chapter 1
E
veryone wants to fuck Jared King.
It’s all I’ve heard about for the three weeks I’ve worked at King Advertising.
My co-workers talking about how they want to sink to their knees beneath his desk, be pressed up against the back wall of the elevator, or frisked against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. There was even a particularly dirty conversation involving what they imagine he might do to them with his expensive silk ties.
That one made me blush so bad I had to run to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
Not that I blame them. Jared King is probably the sexiest man on the East Coast, and a billionaire to boot. He’s dark and broody, with smoldering brown eyes and broad shoulders.
But as I’ve also learned while covering for his assistant, Jared King is cold and calculating, a complete and total jerk.
Every day from noon until 1pm (when Alec is at lunch) I answer phones, take messages, and pray that Mr. King doesn’t return from lunch before Alec can relieve me.
“Jared King’s office,” I say now, only half-achieving the smooth-as-butter professional phone voice that I’ve been practicing since I started at King Advertising. Of course, I was hoping to use that voice with my own clients or in pitch meetings, not answering the CEO’s phone. But as the lowest level copywriter, I’ve been tasked to take all the jobs no one else wants, and that includes covering Jared King’s assistant’s desk when he’s out of the office.
I doubt even the women who want Mr. King to ride them like show ponies would want this assignment. But as a newly minted business school graduate with only two suits to my name, I can’t be choosy.
I can’t just take opportunities, I have to make them.
Of course, I didn’t account for the fact that Jared King would barely look at me, much less speak to me.
I’ve been here three weeks and the only word he’s said to me so far has been, “Messages?” And not in a friendly tone that said he was grateful for my service. More in a cold, distant tone, somewhat irritated tone that implied that he wished he could just train a Labrador to do my job and be done with me entirely.