BLISS: A Wedding Enemies to Lovers Alpha Bad-Boy Billionaire Romance

by Marr, Maggie

  “Tara,” I step toward her. I swallow. All my Wonderfuck knowledge is gone. It feels useless, and I don’t know what to say or how to read her or what’s the best way to tell her what I’m thinking. So I don’t look for an angle, I don’t try to think of an approach. Instead, I simply start. “I’m sorry.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and rips her gaze from me. Her cheeks flush red. I know that her emotions aren’t going to stay hidden.

  “I . . . you were right. I do need you. I want you. I want you more than anyone I’ve ever met. You were right, I was afraid, and now . . . now I’m not. Now I know that I have to be with you.”

  “Now? You know that now. After you left me in Malibu and then didn’t call me for weeks. You show up here, and I’m just supposed to accept your apology and fall all over you and say ‘Okay, Jake,’ or Wonderfuck, or whatever name you’re going by now?”

  I stand there and I take it. I deserve it. I actually deserve more anger than that. “You’re right,” I say. “I have no defense, absolutely none. The only thing I have is a wing, a prayer, and the hope that you feel as though you can’t live without me as much as I feel like I can’t live without you.”

  Her mouth drops open and her eyelids flutter. Whatever she’d intended to say is lost to her now, so I keep going. “I love you,” I say. “And that fucking terrifies me.”

  “Jake, you can’t love me, okay? You can’t.”

  “But I do. I . . . I don’t want to be with anyone else . . . I . . .”

  She looks at me. At first her gaze is harsh, as though she doesn’t believe me, but then . . . then her eyes soften.

  “Please, Tara.” My eyes are hot and my throat is closing, but I don’t fucking care, because I can’t imagine a life without her. I grasp her hands, I look into her eyes. For a split second I see what I want, what I need. I step forward.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” she says. “You have to go.”

  Chapter 35

  And this is the community room.”

  Rachel and I follow Julia, the Alzheimer’s facility administrator, into a living room that doesn’t look too much different than Mom’s living room at home. Three older women sit at the center table with a woman in her twenties guiding them in a painting project.

  “We have painting three times a week. Also three-dimensional art, light yoga, and community outings.”

  “They go out?” Rachel is thinking of Mom’s escape.

  “Our residents are in varying stages, and we keep a strict ratio of two residents per caregiver when we’re on an outing. There are only eight residents here,” Julia says.

  “All women?”

  Julia nods. “Let me show you two of the private rooms.” Rachel follows Julia through the living room and into the hall. I walk behind them, but pause next to a woman who sits on the couch with an open book on her lap.

  “You’re awfully young to be considering a place like this,” she says and lifts an eyebrow.

  “Not for me,” I say. I nod toward her book. “Any good?”

  “Depends on who you ask.” She flips it closed. “Let me guess, you’re thinking about dumping your mom in this place?”

  My chest tightens. I nod.

  “That’s what my kids did too.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Do you like it here?”

  “The food’s good. I have my own bedroom, but the woman who lives next door to me likes to sing ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ in the middle of the night.” She shakes her head. “I’m not too keen on that tune at two a.m.”

  I smile. This lady seems to have her wits mostly together. “I’m Jake.” I stretch out my hand.

  “Rosalyn,” she says and shakes my hand. “Rosalyn Harris.” She leans forward and wiggles her eyebrows. “I bet you think you know me.”

  “I’m sorry, no, I don’t think we’ve met—”

  “Hmm. Really? You ever go to the movies?”

  “Sometimes. You?”

  “Not so much anymore. My husband, he used to make movies. Was a producer. He’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.

  “Don’t be. He was an asshole.”

  “Oh, well—”

  “Had a giant cock, though. Gave it to every actress he ever worked with. Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Elizabeth Taylor—he really gave it to Elizabeth Taylor.”

  “Wow, I—”

  “But he loved me and I loved him. That’s why we stayed together. Even while he was schtupping every actress in town. I left him for a while. Stopped him. Put that damn schmeckel away after I left for six months. It’s always good for a man to realize what he has. They forget sometimes. Men forget.”

  “Jake.” Julia stands beside me with Rachel. “I see you’ve met Rosalyn. Rosalyn, didn’t you want to paint today?”

  “Today? Not today. Today I’m meeting Paul Newman for lunch.”

  “Oh, right.” Julia smiles. “Maybe you should head toward the dining room. I think they’re going to begin serving soon.”

  Rosalyn stands and glances toward me. “Tell Mr. Redford I’ll see him next Wednesday.”

  “Will do,” I say and watch Rosalyn walk away.

  “She does pretty well,” Julia says. “In and out of reality. Not angry. And usually pretty content to be dating some of the biggest stars of the sixties and seventies.”

  Rachel sighs. Her face is ashen. The idea of putting Mom in a permanent place that both of us know she won’t ever move out of, even in a place this small and this nice, is the pits. Plus, soon what’s left of Mom’s mind will be gone.

  “It’s very difficult for the family members,” Julia says. “Have either of you gotten involved with any of the Alzheimer’s support groups?”

  “I have,” Rachel says. “Just recently.”

  I look at Rachel. I had no idea that she’d started going to a group.

  Julia smiles at Rachel. “I found it tremendously helpful when I went through this with my mom.”

  Rachel eyes are watery and she turns away.

  “We were going to look at the bedrooms,” Julia says and steers us both away from the couches and down the hall.

  * * *

  “I hated it.”

  Rachel doesn’t look at me. She stands at the kitchen island with a glass of red wine and watches Mom and Lily play Go Fish at the dining room table. So far Mom has put down four mismatched pairs, but Lily is too sweet to say anything.

  “Right, there’s nothing to like about any of it.” Rachel sips her wine. “But it was nice, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Julia said she’ll call if a spot opens up. I put Mom’s name on the wait list.” Rachel bites her thumbnail. “This is our decision, right?”

  “Right,” I say. “We’ve decided together, and while it’s not what we want for Mom, it’s what we need.”

  “Richard?”

  I look over at Mom and Lily. They both smile at me.

  “Richard, is the nice lady with the dog coming over again tonight?”

  “What dog?” I ask.

  Mom looks at Lily. “Rachel, honey, what is the doggie’s name? The one that comes over to visit?”

  “Jango,” Lily says as she puts down a pair of swordfish cards.

  “Jango?” I ask and look toward Rachel. She has now stuck her nose into the refrigerator and is pretending like she can’t hear what anyone is saying. “Jango comes to visit?”

  “Jango and Tara,” Lily continues. “Jango does tricks.”

  “It seems Mommy does tricks too.” I walk to the refrigerator and stand just beside my big sis. “Have you seen Tara?”

  She pulls her bottom lip beneath her top teeth. “There’s no rule that I can’t be friends with your neighbor.”

  “Nearly former neighbor, and when did you see her?”

  “She came over the other night,” Lily offers from across the room. “Jango can roll over now. She’s been working on it.”

  “How long—”

&n
bsp; “Not long,” Rachel says in a way that seems to indicate I have no right to be irritated. “Look, I desperately needed a sitter one night and you were MIA, so I called Tara and—”

  “She’s babysitting for you now?”

  “No, she came over that one time. And then we had her and Jango over for dinner the other night.”

  My heart jackknifes. I’m uncertain if I should feel happy about this or betrayed. Rachel doesn’t know the depth of my feelings for Tara, so I’m thinking betrayal isn’t part of the equation. “Did she . . . did she say anything about—”

  “You?” Rachel asks.

  I nod.

  “No. Sorry. The only thing we talked about was her new job and her move.”

  “Where—”

  “San Francisco.” Rachel’s lips thin. “And it’s soon.” She grabs the top of my arm.

  Maybe she does know how I feel. Maybe I’m not nearly as stoic as I like to believe.

  “How soon?”

  “Next week.”

  “That doesn’t give me much time.”

  * * *

  My place doesn’t feel like my place anymore. I’m tired of The London and I’m tired of hiding. I can’t let the ghosts of my past determine the trajectory of my future any longer. I walk through the condo toward my bedroom. There’ve only been two women who’ve slept in this room; one is dead and the other wants nothing to do with me. I sit on my bed and glance toward the new Frederika on the wall.

  The girl with the green eyes and the brown hair, facing the ocean. She’s so similar to what I saw in Malibu when I stood watching Tara. A perfect moment that will stay seared in my memory until I die or I lose my mind. One is a definite. With my genetics, the other a real possibility.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I walk through my place and open the front door.

  My heart jolts in my chest.

  “This is yours.” Tara holds up a nondescript wine key. I don’t know if it’s mine or if it isn’t mine, because I don’t fucking care. What I do care about is that she’s here, standing at my door, in front of me.

  “Thank you.” I take the wine key, and I fucking hope beyond hope that the wine key is only an excuse.

  “You . . . uh . . . you went to my parents?”

  I nod.

  “My dad, he said you seemed . . . ‘distraught’ was the word he used.”

  I look into Tara’s eyes. And the emotions are there, I see them, she can’t hide them or even pretend that she doesn’t have them, although I’m betting right now she wishes that she didn’t.

  “I’d say ‘in love’ is a better description.”

  Her mouth drops open but this time I don’t hesitate, I don’t pause, I don’t let this instant of shock and surprise and whatever the fuck else she’s feeling pass. This time I pull her close and press my lips to hers.

  I kiss her. I kiss her with every emotion I’ve got. I don’t hold anything back. I’m not Wonderfuck, I’m not even Jake, I’m just a guy who is madly in love with a woman who might leave him forever next week. A guy who didn’t believe he could ever love again, so he did everything in his power to make damn sure that he wouldn’t and that no one could love him.

  But he did.

  And he could.

  And I do.

  Tara kisses me back. I don’t pause. I pull her into my place and kick the door closed. I don’t know if this time is the last time we’ll be together as what we were, or the first time we’ll be together as what I want us to become, and I don’t care. All I want is her right now. In my bed. In my arms. With me.

  I sweep Tara up into my arms, and without letting her lips leave mine, I carry her down the hall to my bedroom. I set her on her feet beside my bed and pull her shirt over her head. My hands slide over her skin. I unhook he r bra and it drops to the floor. I lean forward and pull her nipple into my mouth.

  “Oh Jake,” she whispers.

  All I want, for the rest of my life, is to hear her use that voice, filled with desire, and say those words. My hand slides down and slips her pants over her hips. I release her nipple and kiss down the front of her, down her belly to her panties. I pull them over her hips, down over her legs. Her sex is in front of me. I use my thumbs to gently spread the lips of her sex and my tongue strokes over her. She’s wet for me. I press a finger into her as I suck.

  Her breathing is short. She grasps my hair. Her panting turns me on.

  “Jack, oh my God, Jake, I’m going to come.”

  I clasp one arm around her legs and keep sucking her sex. Her entire body is rocking now and tensing. I gently push her back to my bed and spread her thighs, and just as she’s going over the edge, her entire sex is open to me, a gorgeous flower. I suck her clit and thrust two fingers deep into her sex.

  “Fuck, yes.” Her sex tightens around me and her hips buck up and push into my face even harder. I suck until the rolling of her hips stops and only tiny soft sounds come from her lips. I pull my face away from her sex. She lays on my bed, her eyes heavy-lidded.

  “I want you,” she says.

  I reach into my bedside drawer and unroll a condom onto my cock. I pull her body so that she is laying on my bed with the covers beside us. I lean over her and she opens her legs for me. I press my lips to hers, the gorgeous taste of her still on my lips, and she tastes her own sex.

  The tip of my cock presses forward against the muscles of her sex. I edge into her and she grasps my shoulders, her gaze on mine.

  I want this for forever. I can do this. I know I can. I can be hers and she can be mine, because I am no longer afraid.

  “Make me come, Jake,” she whispers.

  I thrust into her hard and pull back. Her mouth drops open with wild-eyed pleasure. She clasps her legs around me and we are one. My control doesn’t exist. The tingle throbs up my legs and gathers in my back. My balls pull tight. She licks her lips, her body spasms and tightens around mine, and I am over the edge, taking her with me. Her nails dig into the flesh of my shoulders as come throbs from my cock. And every part of me belongs to every part of her and I want her to be mine.

  * * *

  I wake up. Tara isn’t in my bed.

  My stomach tightens.

  “Tara?”

  No response. I bound from the mattress. Is she gone? Fuck. Why did I sleep? How could she leave? I didn’t get a chance to tell her all the things I need to say. I run down the hallway of my condo naked, like a wild man, in search of the woman I need.

  Not at the dining room table. Not in the kitchen. Not in the—

  The front door opens.

  She smiles. Her hands are full. Jango is at her side. Jango wags her tail and heads to me. I cover my cock with my hand, pretty certain I don’t want any part of me mistaken for a chew toy.

  “Afraid I left?” she asks with a wicked gleam in her eyes, part playful and part not. I deserve that.

  “Yeah,” I say. I pat Jango’s head and take my hand from my cock when she goes and curls up on the couch.

  “Go get dressed. I’ll make breakfast. We should talk.”

  I pull my hand through my hair and try to determine if ‘talk’ sounds like a good thing or a good-bye thing. I can’t decipher her intent. She’s already got one frying pan full of bacon and is cracking eggs into a bowl. But I don’t want to leave her, I want to talk to her now. I have things to say, and I need to know what is going to happen between us.

  “Go put on some clothes,” she says, without removing her gaze from the eggs she’s whisking.

  I turn back to my bedroom and get ready to face whatever this day will bring.

  * * *

  “My place just sold.”

  I pour two coffees. This is how we’re playing the morning, it would seem, as though we’ve not been separated for weeks, and I am not the former Wonderfuck, and that this is normal, her cooking eggs in my kitchen while I make coffee. But this isn’t normal. I wish it were, and I’ll do anything to make this the portrait for the rest of my life, but she hasn’t committ
ed, nor have we really talked about all we need to talk about.

  “I have a new job reporting for the San Francisco Post. They want me up there next week.” She’s finished cooking the eggs and bacon and put them on plates. She turns to me and leans against the counter. “I leave in three days.”

  I swallow. I look at Tara and I know that her face is home. Being with her is what makes me feel solid and complete.

  “Let me come with you.”

  “That’s crazy. You’ve got your sister and your niece and your mom.”

  “I can come back here and help. I can fly back and forth. I don’t have an office. I don’t have to be anywhere specific. I have business in San Francisco.” I walk to her and I slide my hands around her waist. “Please,” I say. “I want to be with you. Let me go too.”

  Doubt in her eyes, but beside it, hope too. I understand those feelings, the idea that something you want couldn’t possibly work out. Couldn’t possibly end up just the way you wanted from the beginning.

  “I meant it when I said it. I love you. You’re my future, and I want that future to begin now.”

  “Jake, I . . .” She takes a step back from me. “I . . . there are some things that you need to know, that I should tell you, that—”

  “Do you love me?” Because regardless of what she’s going to tell me, that’s the only fact I need to know. That’s it. If she loves me, there isn’t anything we can’t get through. I know it. I believe it. Even with my past, maybe because of it, I’m certain that this, what I have with Tara, is strong enough to withstand anything life can throw our way.

  “Yes.” Her gaze is locked to mine. “I love you.”

  I kiss her. She kisses me. We’re in each other’s arms. I pull back and look into her eyes.

  “Then I can go? Come to San Francisco with you and Jango?”

  A smile cuts across her face and she nods.

  “And we’ll be together? Just you and me?”

  She nods again and I pull her into my arms. This is what I want, what I need. My heart swells. I swallow and press my lips to hers.