by Laura Carter
When my clothes finally reach the floor, I’m wet with desire and aching for more. Desperate to feel him on me, in me. He rises to full height and takes my vest over my head. He strokes my hair and drops the top to the floor, kissing me as he unzips me from my sports bra. Everything about his touch is tender, gentle, loving.
He hooks me up, my legs bending around his hips, then turns to place me down on the bed, lifting my feet to the mattress. The look he gives me as he bends to kneel between my legs is one I’ve never seen on him, on anyone. A look that makes me feel adored, cherished. It builds pressure in my throat and behind my eyes. In this moment, I can see, feel, and think nothing but him.
The emotion makes me cry out when his tongue dips between my folds. As he licks and sucks me, I go to another place. A place where nothing has ever felt as intense, as incredible. I fist the bedsheets in my hands as he holds my hips, pinning me down as he takes me to my climax. My mind goes black and I see bright spots as the most profound orgasm I’ve ever had takes over. I feel it in every part of me, every limb, every cell.
I am vaguely aware of the sound of foil tearing. When I open my eyes, and my heart rate calms, Brooks is above me, naked, his weight on his arms. I reach up to his face and stroke the coarse hair around his jaw, the soft crinkles at the sides of his eyes, the straight line of his nose. When I touch his lips, he opens his mouth and takes the tip of my finger, rolling his tongue around the point in the same way he just brought me to orgasm.
I watch his expression change as he pushes himself inside me, filling me completely, elevating me right back to the peak I just came down from. He moves slowly, purposefully, in and out of me, taking my breath with each thrust, watching me like he’s never seen me before.
I can’t take more. He fills me, makes me feel like an extension of him, overwhelms me. Breaking our stare, I wrap my arms around him and pull him to me, chest to chest, every part of us that can be touching fused together.
“Izzy, come with me. I need you with me.” There’s a tremor to his voice. His words are breathless, despite our going slow.
“I’m here with you, Brooks.” I want to always be with you.
With another deep roll of his hips, he lifts us both to orgasm. For me, an orgasm I know I will never come back from. The orgasm I will never forget.
He collapses onto my chest and I hold him tightly to me, feeling his heat, listening to his every breath in my ear, my heart beating with his.
Chapter 26
brooks
Day 12.
“Why have you stopped here?”
Izzy looks through the windows of the truck at our surroundings, on the edge of the cul-de-sac where I usually pick up Cady.
“She lives just down there. This is where I pick her up.”
“But it’s raining, Brooks.”
Her words irritate me. This is the routine. This is what we do. “She’ll have an umbrella, Izzy. It’s only water. Here she is.”
Cady runs with an umbrella over her head, her brown bob bouncing. Her usual skater dress has been replaced by skinny jeans, but the staple black leather jacket has made the cut. She makes for the front passenger door, then remembers we have company today and jumps into the backseat, dumping her overnight bag next to her and the umbrella in the footwell.
“Already relegated to the backseat. Fast mover, Dad. Next you’ll be shipping me off to college.”
“Or telling you to drive yourself into the city,” I say, turning to look at her.
“I’m working on that. Too many things happening at the same time. You know I’ve never been coordinated. So, you must be Izzy.”
Izzy peers between the seats. I can tell from her tentative smile and the way she fiddles with her fingers in her lap that she’s nervous. “Hi, Cady, it’s really nice to meet you. And, erm, before we go anywhere, I just want to say, I’m really sorry about the blog post.”
Cady shrugs. “It was a shitty thing to do, but he shouldn’t have pretended I don’t exist. So, now that’s over, where are we going for lunch? Are you two going to be all lettuce leaves and shakes, because I would love a burger.”
Izzy and I look at each other, then back to Cady and we all smile, the tension in the car fading in an instant. “Izzy is definitely allowed a burger.”
Izzy sucks in a breath and pouts, as if she’s struggling with a conundrum. “You can have a chicken burger. No bun, no skin. And sweet potato fries.”
“So, basically chicken breast and sweet potato?”
“Right.” She chuckles as I shake my head.
“Burgers it is.”
I dump the truck at home and we walk to a secret burger joint down a side alley in the city. It’s not actually secret at all because it’s always packed. But I figure it is a cool place to take Izzy, and Cady and I love the burgers.
After shouting our order above the music and chatter, we take a seat in a wooden booth—Izzy and Cady on one side, me on the other. The inside of the place looks like a huge garden shed—wood walls, roof beams, and furniture. Izzy checks out the art decorating the walls—old music and movie posters, handwritten graffiti. She leans her head to the side as she reads two notes by my shoulder.
Mel was here ’13.
Sarah & Mitchel 4ever.
“You see that Rolling Stones poster up there?” I ask, pointing. “Check out the writing to the left of it, in purple felt pen.”
She finds the words and reads aloud: “Cady and Dad 2008.”
“I drew the stick men,” Cady says, smiling across the booth at me.
Izzy’s lips curve up, but there’s something else about her expression that I can’t read. Something behind her outward smile. “That’s pretty awesome,” she eventually says.
“So, Cady, are you looking forward to college?”
Cady nods as she slurps her Diet Pepsi through a straw. “Sure am. I’m going to NYU but I’m going to be living on campus. I get the best of both worlds. Dad and his wallet when I need him; Mom’s washing and cooking; a place where neither one of them can see me behaving badly.”
Izzy’s giggle turns to a laugh when she spots the scowl I’m throwing Cady. “You need to learn a few life lessons, kiddo. Dad’s wallet is paying your fees. You can get a job for the rest.”
She rolls her eyes and waves a hand through the air. She is saved from my addressing that damn attitude by our number being called at the counter. “To be continued,” I say, pointing to her as I leave the booth.
When I come back with our food, Izzy and Cady are talking about Broadway shows—their favorites and which they’ve seen recently. I dish out two mouthwatering cheeseburgers to them, while I try not to lose my shit over the plain chicken breast in front of me.
“I adore Wicked,” Izzy says, as they unwrap their burgers in unison.
“Oh, me too. That song. You know, the big one where the witch floats up from the stage?”
“Defying Gravity!” they shout together.
As I work my way through my bland meal—which ought to be outlawed in a burger joint this good—I watch my girls.
They both lift the lids of their buns and remove the pickle and tomato slices from the top of their meat, placing them on the side of their burger wrappers. They don’t stop talking as I reach out and take all four pieces of veggie for myself. Other than paying the check, I’m basically superfluous to this lunch.
The rain has started up again by the time we leave the restaurant. Given we’re so close to my apartment, we decide to make a run for it. We stop to pick up chocolate and ice cream, which I’ll have to watch Cady and Izzy eat later, and somewhere along the way, a decision is made to play Monopoly, then watch a movie tonight.
As much as I hate Monopoly because it usually drags on forever, I enjoyed sitting around the living room, the three of us playfully jibing at each other. My enjoyment was helped by the fact I won. An
other reason I don’t usually like Monopoly…I always win, which is boring. Today, though, it was a close call.
It’s after seven by the time we decide to wash up and put on lounge clothes for the movie. Unsurprisingly, I have no say in what we watch. Izzy connects her Mac to my flat-screen and Kate Hudson appears in some chick flick.
Cady curls her feet beneath her in the lounge-chair. I rest back into the L of the sofa and pull Izzy to sit between my legs. She’s reluctant, I can tell from her rigid body, but she eventually gives in.
Cady offers chocolate to Izzy, which she takes and eats, delighting in my growl against her ear. It pleases me to see how she has become more comfortable with food. Cady pops the lid on a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and dives in.
“I can’t believe you’re making me watch a chick flick,” I grumble.
“Shh…,” both girls say, putting me firmly back in my box.
I decide around a half hour into the movie, it isn’t so bad. Perhaps it isn’t the movie, so much as the company. I rest my chin on Izzy’s hair, breathing in her familiar shampoo, and tighten my arms around her. I watch Cady, focused on the TV, so much so her ice cream drips from her spoon back into the container.
It dawns on me that this is the life I always wanted. Just as quickly, I swallow the tightness that takes hold of my throat. I’ve always wanted this closeness with Cady and Alice. It’s broken my heart for eighteen years that I couldn’t have it. I’m not sure I could cope if it was snatched away from me again. My chest constricts as my heart rate speeds up. I try to breathe calmly, without drawing Izzy’s attention. But I’m panicking. I’m panicking like fuck.
I love her. I’m in love with Izzy.
I’m terrified.
As the credits roll, Cady stands and stretches her arms above her head with a loud yawn. “Well, I’m pooped. Do me a favor and don’t be loud when you’re doing sexy time? I don’t need to hear that.”
I feel Izzy’s intake of breath as she sits bolt upright. “We wouldn’t, don’t, I…”
“Cady, enough,” I say, raising my brows in a way that tells her she’s crossing the line. “See you in the morning.”
“Such a pooper! ’Night, Dad. ’Night, Izzy.”
When she’s out of earshot, Izzy buries her face in my chest. “Oh my God.”
Now, I laugh as I kiss her hair and stroke her back. “I thought you handled that well.”
She sits back and slaps a hand across my chest. “Shut up. I didn’t know what to say.”
“I. A-ah. Erm.”
She picks up a sofa cushion and throws it at me. I grab her wrists and pull her on top of me. “Seriously, Iz, thank you for today. I know it must have been…odd.”
She swallows so hard I see it in her throat and wonder what she isn’t saying. “She’s a great girl, Brooks. She clearly loves you.”
I wait for more, for the “but” that her expression seems to hold. It doesn’t come. “Shall we go to bed?” I ask.
“Yes, but I can’t, you know…”
Chuckling, I kiss the tip of her nose. “How would you feel about lying in my arms all night?”
She nods. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.”
Izzy’s breaths are slow and deep as she sleeps across my chest. I lie perfectly still, scared I’ll disturb her and that she might roll over, away from me. I need to hold her. As I lie here in the darkness of my bedroom, she’s the only thing stopping me from losing my mind. She’s going back to London. Back to a life full of designer labels, where her wealthy parents pay for her apartment. A life like Alice’s.
* * * *
Day 13.
Izzy comes with me to drop Cady home, both of them grumbling at how early it is but both knowing I have to get to the gym.
I stop the truck in my usual spot at the edge of the cul-de-sac. I can feel Izzy’s eyes on me. It must seem strange to her that I don’t drive Cady to the house. I get it. But how can I tell her this is what eighteen years of wishing looks like? How do I tell her it’s just too much for me to see Alice’s life without me in it?
“Well, back to Alice’s house arrest,” Cady says, getting her things together in the backseat.
“Alice?” Izzy says, staring at me.
“That’s Mom’s name,” Cady says, not registering the shift in mood in the front of the truck. “It was really nice to meet you, Izzy. Hopefully it won’t be too long before you come back from the UK.”
Wow, way to add to the awkward-as-hell moment, Cady.
“’Bye, Dad.” She leans through the seats and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“’Bye, baby.”
Izzy is still looking at me as I knock the truck into gear and head back to the city. I force myself to look straight ahead. But as we pull into line behind traffic, she asks, “Alice, as in Alice in Wonderland?”
I glance quickly at her and back to the road. “Yes.”
“Your tattoo.”
I nod. “It was the first tattoo I got, a long time ago.”
“Do you still… I mean, are you over her?”
“Am I over Alice?” I don’t know why I feel the need to repeat the question. “Izzy, Alice and I haven’t been together since Cady was born. We were seventeen.”
“Why don’t you drop Cady at home?”
I feel the muscles of my jaw tense and my nostrils flare as I breathe out. “Cady has two homes, and I just don’t, okay? Can we drop this now?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. Cady obviously has two homes. This is just all new to me.”
Guilt churns my stomach. I know it’s new to her. And I wish I could give her answers to her questions about Alice. The thing is, I don’t have them.
Am I over Alice? Will I ever be?
I know I feel different about Izzy from the way I’ve felt about Alice, or anyone.
Can I be in love with Izzy and not be over Alice?
Can I be in love with Izzy knowing that there is every chance she is going to break my heart?
Chapter 27
izzy
He has a child. Well, a young adult. Okay. I can handle the idea. We had a great day, yesterday. Cady is nice; she’s funny. She reminds me of Brooks in too many ways to count.
But she’s an adult, going to college, and I don’t even know what I want to do with my life yet.
Brooks tells her to get a job and be responsible but I don’t have a real job. My parents still pay for my apartment.
Does it really matter? Am I beating myself up over nothing because I would never be number one if I were to be part of Brooks’s life? I’m not just talking about Cady but Alice. Alice in bloody Wonderland. He couldn’t tell me he is over her.
Oh, Izzy, grow up. Of course, he isn’t over her, she is the mother of his child. She will always be there.
See, this is my point exactly. I need to grow up myself.
“Izzy? Does that all sound okay?”
I move my attention from my fingers to Kerry, as she and I sit with Madge and Brooks around a table in the gym bistro. “Erm, yes. The studio will send a car. Brooks and I will drive to AMTV together. They’ll ask about the results of the two weeks.”
Brooks puts his hand on my thigh and questions me with his gaze. I force myself to smile back at him.
“Great,” Kerry says, shuffling pieces of paper on the table in front of her. “Next, we need to go over a few details of your London promo events when you get back. Brooks, Madge, you guys are free to go if you like. You’re welcome to stay too.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Brooks says.
After saying their good-byes to Kerry—Brooks seemingly increasingly less offended by her—I watch Brooks and Madge move into reception. As Kerry starts talking me through three book signing dates in the UK, I can’t take my eyes off Brooks. He drags a hand back through his hair and across his chin. Madge
reaches a hand to his shoulder, as if she’s comforting him. Then she folds him into her arms and they linger there.
Sickness builds in my stomach. I can tell he’s nervous about the TV appearance tomorrow but I think it’s more than that. Has he realized I’m not right for him? Or, like me, is he dreading tomorrow because it is day fourteen, our last day together?
“You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”
I look at Kerry through clouded eyes. I don’t answer her question. There’s no need. I know the answer will be written all over my face. I’m in love with him.
“You can always come back, babe. You don’t have to stay in London forever.”
Right on cue, my mobile rings and “MUMMY” lights up the screen. I silence her—again. I know she will be freaking out after seeing my blog. She’s my mother; she’ll know there’s something going on between Brooks and me. And she’ll hate it. Since I already know that, what’s the point in hearing it from her?
A text message follows the call and I delete it after reading the words:
ISABELLA COULTHARD, YOU ARE IGNORING ME AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.
Kerry and I part ways and I go in search of Brooks.
“Are you ready to get some results?” he asks when I reach his office.
A distraction. “Yes, sure. Are we doing it here?”
He flashes me a sly look.
“Doing the tests here!”
He chuckles. The sound thaws the ice that is starting to build around my heart to protect me from what is coming.
“We can take a few measurements here. We’ll use the scales downstairs. I don’t think we need much, just something to talk about tomorrow. Do you agree?”