“Skyla, are you feeling OK?” Mia sounds genuinely concerned. “Is the baby all right?”
Mom grabs a chair and pushes me into it. “I’m going to have you checked out first thing next week. I have a specialist in Seattle, Honey—he’s nothing but the best.” She pulls me into a death grip of a hug and sniffs back tears. “Where were you?”
“I was—” I look to Marshall for help.
“Don’t be afraid to admit you ran away,” he encourages. “It’s not important now, here you are, safe, and with family.” His lips turn up on the side as he gives a secret smile.
“And friends,” Brielle adds with apprehension.
I glare at her openly.
“I don’t see any friends,” I snipe.
“That’s right,” Darla, Brielle’s mom is quick to reply, “these girls is like family. We’s all family.” She holds up a martini glass to salute the motley crew.
Figures. She’s ripped enough to believe her own lies. I wonder what Logan’s excuse is? I shoot him a hard look. How dare he violate me like that, right in front Gage and the world like it didn’t even matter. This is either a case of amazingly complex love, or he’s certifiably insane. I’d bet money on the latter.
I’ve got plans for Logan—a gift of my own. I hope he feels just as violated when I give it to him right in the balls.
His eyes round out as though he heard me.
“Skyla?” Mia sweeps over to me. “You’re the best gift I got all night.” She wraps her arms around me and buries her head in my neck. She’s really back.
***
I bring Gage upstairs with me to clean up. It feels like I’ve been gone a million years, two lifetimes—as though my whole existence on Paragon had been a dream and now I’m in it again. It would have been a nightmare without Gage—wholly impossible. Mom insists on following us up, pointing out the new cherry stain on the handrail, showing off a large family portrait from her wedding in a new gilt frame that she hung in the upstairs hall, then the grand finale, the unblemished mirror in my bedroom.
I’m not sure whether Tad opened his wallet to comfort her or celebrate my absence.
“You fixed it. Thank you,” I say, catching a glimpse of myself for the first time in ages—mud encrusted hair and dress. My face looks pale with large circles under my eyes, red like lacerations. Scary.
“Skyla,” she whispers, taking me in. “Please don’t ever leave like that again. I swear, Tad’s not sending you away,” her eyes close for a moment. “I’ve made it really clear you weren’t going anywhere if you came back. If it weren’t for Gage, I think I would have gone crazy.” She takes up my hand. “I knew as long as he was near, you’d come back to us.” She squeezes my fingers before heading into the bathroom. The pipes twist, and the shower starts to run.
“Get comfortable,” she emerges, pulling out a pair of pink sweats and a t-shirt from my drawers.
“I want to talk to you about some things,” I say.
“I know. We have everything to discuss. I’m sure you have a million questions about the baby.” Her hand glides over my hair.
“Not that. I want to talk to you about the fact I’m an angel.” I can see Gage recoil from the corner of my eye.
“Just because you found yourself in this position does not make you a bad person. I get it.” She presses a soft kiss against my forehead. “Gage and I will wait for you downstairs.”
“He stays,” I say it so quick, there’s a hint of defiance in my tone.
She gives a circular nod, and for the first time I note the glittering tears in her eyes. She’s glad I’m back, and in a way it’s the best gift I could receive from her. She closes the door before heading downstairs.
“I wanted her to believe me,” I say, pulling Gage in.
“So I see. But I’m a little relieved we didn’t go there. I think she needs time to adjust to the fact you’re back.”
“Oh, I’m back alright,” I try to seduce him with my voice.
I pull Gage towards the shower, run my fingers through his mud-soaked hair.
He shakes his head, resisting the offer.
I lure him into the bathroom by way of a smile, raise my arms, and let him pull off my dress. It’s seductive watching Gage undress me, feel his eyes rake over me filled with lust. My fingers fly back to unhook my bra, but he won’t let me. He catches my wrist like he’s done so many times before, and his dimples tremble from the effort.
He takes off his shirt, drops out of his jeans, his shoes, his socks.
“Boxers,” I whisper, ending the mystery.
Gage steps into the steaming shower with me, lets me shampoo his hair—douses me with kisses as the water cleanses off the dirt and debris, melting in a milkshake puddle at our feet. He opens the door, gives one more slow kiss before leaving me alone.
I memorize the way he looks with water beading off his body, steam rising all around him as though it were honoring him with its vapors. Gage and all of his sexual restraint. You could race around the globe with the pent-up frustration he must have. His ability to stave off the pain of his physical needs is staggering.
Then a light goes off in his eyes. He was asleep and now he’s awake. His affect changes from aloof to smoldering. A wicked grin spreads across his face, and he heads back in the shower, raises both my arms up over my head, and presses me against the icy tiles as he gives a kiss that resonates through my entire being.
The water beads off our bodies, pushes into us with tiny angry bites. Gage reaches around and unhooks my bra, lands his hands square on my chest before slipping up and down the landscape of my body. All I can think about is the crowd of people waiting for us downstairs, wondering what we might be doing with the shower running, alone. It’s like having an invisible audience, and it ruins every good intention streaming from Gage—although, a small part of me can appreciate the irony of Logan standing somewhere just beneath my feet. Losing myself to Gage while standing over Logan brings a devilish smile to my face, surges me beyond delirium.
A rash of heated kisses that seem to last forever overwhelm me until my skin goes numb from the steady stream of water. Gage shifts gears, lets his tongue travel along my neck, my shoulder—a line straight down my chest. It would be easy to dissolve under the weight of his lust for me—to give in and love Gage with my body, fierce as a riot.
He hitches his thumbs on either side of my underwear and gives a productive downward tug.
It’s time to commit or quit.
Chapter Seven
The Gift of Life
OK—I did not anticipate having to stave off Gage in the shower.
We dry off and dress, me in the closet, and he in the bedroom.
Traditionally it was me who was the aggressor in our sexual relationship, but after that hot and steamy scene with Gage, I think the shoe is clearly on the other foot. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have liked to have had sex with Gage in the shower, clearly the offer was on the table, clearly his body was one hundred percent able and willing to perform all of the necessary functions as evidenced by the constant hard prodding against my thigh, but, oddly, this time around, it was me who was the voice of reason, and I managed to convince him that another time might be more appropriate.
I mean, both of our families are downstairs waiting to shower us with love and affection, waiting patiently for us to wash the mud off our bodies, not exchange them with one another for the very first time. I cannot even imagine what it would have been like walking downstairs to face Mom and Tad even though they are one hundred percent positive we’ve already done the deed. It would have felt beyond awkward.
Logan pops in my brain, him I would have gladly flaunted my deflowered status to, in fact, I would have painted him a picture, wrote him a poem about how much I enjoyed it, how I was eternally grateful that he was nowhere in the vicinity.
Gage and I make our way downstairs and come across Mia and Melissa on their way up.
“It’s really good to have you back.” Mia hugs me
at the waist. “Maybe we can go shopping at the mall this week? I got some Christmas money. I wanna to buy you something, you know, for the baby.” She looks up at me glassy eyed, tearing up at the thought.
I gape at her soft features.
“Yeah, OK, sure.” I say goodnight to the two of them and hold Gage close as we head into the family room. “I’ll deal with her later. She’s totally delusional.” They all are. It’s all Mia’s fault that anyone believes I’m with child, which I’m totally not—but no matter how hard I try to deny it, I can’t seem to convince my mother of the fact. It feels rather pointless.
Marshall is gone, and so are Drake, Brielle, and her mom.
Tad and Mom are seated at the table, along with Emma and Dr. Oliver. They all seem to have lost their, we’re-so-happy-to-see-you expressions and exchanged them for the shit has officially hit the fan demeanor. It’s a far more sinister atmosphere if you ask me.
Logan emerges from the kitchen with a giant slice of chocolate cake and raises a mug in our direction. He settles in at the far end of the table, ready for the show.
“Skyla, Gage,” Mom starts in a soothing tone that seems tailor made to reel us in rather than protect. “We thought since we were all here, it would be a great opportunity to discuss what the future holds for the two of you, well, three…of you.”
Oh, that. I inadvertently touch my baby deficient stomach.
Mom drops her gaze to my hand then sweeps back up again and smiles knowingly.
Great. I’ve managed to convince her further that there is a non-existent being floating around in my body.
Gage pulls a chair out for me, and we join them.
I can’t help feel like we’re in the hot seat. It’s one thing when you totally deserve to be in the hot seat, and it’s another when the accusations against your person are unequivocally false and so far from the truth it’s offensive.
See? Had I put out upstairs, I couldn’t even come close to feeling this self-righteous.
“Skyla,” Tad says my name with a heavy inflection. “Before we get started, I would very much appreciate it if you would give your mother and me a formal apology for withholding the truth of your sexual status, which will ultimately result in the birth of your first child.”
Holy shit. What planet is he from?
I open my mouth, then close it.
I’m not pregnant, and, of course, Gage knows I’m not. I’m pretty sure the Olivers are privy to our celibate little secret, but…
“I apologize,” I state flatly.
Gage gives my hand a squeeze. Deny it.
“Gage and I are both very sorry we acted out our hormonal desires.” I wink over at him. Gage looks horrified, blatantly bowled over by my response.
I look over at Logan sitting there with his fork midflight, frozen as though he might be wondering if this were actually true.
“Also, we just showered together,” I add.
“Jiminy Christmas.” Tad throws his hands up in the air, as my mother groans into her chest.
Emma pins me with a heavy look of suspicion.
“I doubt my son would have so little respect for both families present that he would act in such a manner.” Emma relaxes in her seat as though waiting to see what outlandish tale I would come up with next.
“No, that part’s true,” Gage adds.
Shit! My eyes bulge out at him.
It was cute in a cutting sort of way when I was doing it, but with Gage playing along, it feels outright dirty.
“We were fully dressed,” I say in a panic. God, my mother is going to think I’m nothing but a ball of hormones.
“Right,” Tad balks. “And I suppose an immaculate conception occurred while conceiving your child. Gimme a break.”
“Skyla, we’re trying to help you.” Mom gives a hard blink. “Look, I’m going to make sure you have the best prenatal care in the world. I don’t want you to be afraid. This is going to be a tough road, but somehow we’ll manage.”
“And I’m sure the Olivers are going to help with expenses,” Tad eyes the two of them as though they were scoundrels.
“We’d be more than happy to do whatever is needed.” Dr. Oliver gives a gentle smile in his direction. He’s so kind and nice I want to leap over the table and give him a hug. Of course, Dr. Oliver would help us if we needed it, he’s got a heart of gold. “In this case, however,” he gives Gage a stern look, “since you have decided to act like a man in more ways than one, I fully except you take on the responsibility of becoming a father and that means providing for your wife and child.”
“Wife?” My mother and I cry in unison.
“I’d hate to think my grandchild will be brought forth into this world without proper union between his or her parents,” Emma is quick to defend.
Mom and I sit with our jaws scraping the floor, staring at her as though she just sprouted two freaking heads. Of course, I’d like to marry Gage, and sooner than later, but not this soon, and, for sure, not under false pretenses.
“I have to disagree,” Mom quips. “I’m sorry, Emma, but just because your son couldn’t keep it in his pants, doesn’t mean my daughter has to alter her existence.”
I’m no expert, but those sound like fighting words.
Gage groans, squeezing my hand under the table. This is getting ugly—fast.
“Well,” Emma places her palms flat against the table. “I would love to point out the obvious, my son would not be in this predicament if it were not for your daughter and her stalker-like tendencies.”
“Emma,” Dr. Oliver closes his eyes as he says it.
“Stalker-like tendencies?” My mother is on fire. I’ve never seen her so rigid, so ready to attack, defend.
“You should have seen the way she threw herself on my nephew when she came to town,” Emma cuts a quick glance to Logan. “Then, when he wanted nothing more to do with her, she glommed onto my poor son who was left defenseless by her womanly wiles. We’re not used to fast city girls here on Paragon. She was like a novelty he couldn’t resist, and now look where it’s landed him.”
Holy shit.
“You’re right,” Tad agrees as though she had made a profound philosophical statement regarding the lack of my psychological wellbeing.
“OK,” Mom smoothes the red and green tablecloth with her palms. “I think I’m going to ask you to leave. I think all of this baby business is too much for us to handle tonight, and cooler heads need to prevail. We’ll try again another time.”
The Olivers and Logan are quick to exchange polite goodbyes, and head for the door.
Gage takes me by the hand and speeds after them, making me tag along while we follow them into the driveway.
“What was that about?” he hisses at his mother.
“So nice to have you home.” Emma smiles, and pinches my cheek. “I’m sorry if I came across harsh, but I wanted to test your mother’s maternal limits. It’s clear to me she loves you, Skyla. She has your best interests at heart. I needed to know that you were safe in this house.” She places her hand gently on my shoulder. “You will be my daughter-in-law one day. I won’t stand for anyone to mistreat you.”
“And what if you thought she didn’t love me?” I ask.
An arctic blast of wind cuts through my clothes, reminds me that the hair in the back of my head is still sopping wet.
“I would have insisted you come and live with us.” She brushes the back of her hand against my cheek, and I grab it and kiss it in gratitude.
“Thank you.”
Dr. Oliver takes her by the hand, and they hurry to the car. Logan stays back until they’re gone before coming over.
“You mind if I talk to you alone a minute?” He hesitates with his words as though a cliff waited on the other side of each syllable.
A blast of frigid air cuts sharp into my lungs.
I spit hard in his eye, and ignite a fiery slap against his cheek. When my hand connects I hear him say, I love you.
“Liar.” It speed
s out of me as the only truth I’ve said all night.
Chapter Eight
Welcome Home
“So, like, were you holed up in some cave?” Drake leans in secretively during breakfast.
I shake my head at him.
“Knew it,” he smirks. “Gage had you stashed away in some seedy hotel. What happened? Ran out of funds? Looks like you ended up with the cash strapped Oliver. Should have stuck it out with the one that owns the bowling alley.”
“I’d rather stick toothpicks in my eyes than saddle myself with him,” I say it mostly to myself.
“I know you’re ticked about him Frenching you in front of the fam, but the guy was worried sick. You would have thought he was the one with the missing girlfriend.” He dips his head into his cereal and drinks from the side of the bowl.
Yeah, well, Logan was probably worried about not getting me over to the Counts in time. There’s probably a stipulation that states he gets his balls chopped off at the next ritual if he doesn’t produce me before New Year. It’s no wonder he so suddenly loves me, it saves his ass quite literally. Bastard.
“We’re glad to have you back, kiddo,” Tad says, ruffling my hair.
I push back in amazement. He almost had me fooled. It’s Christmas, all that peppermint and mistletoe makes people say all sorts of stupid things. Plus, my mother was probably withholding her body from him the entire time I was gone, so, of course, he’s glad to have me back—and by the way—eww.
“Here.” Mom glides a plate with a myriad of grotesque looking leftovers from last night’s dinner at me.
“No thanks,” I push it back in her direction.
“It’s not for you. It’s for the baby. I’m doing it, too. You know, to help get my body ready for when it finally happens.” She pans over the twin plate set before her. “You need lots of protein to help that sweet little baby develop.”
Turkey and gravy with glibbery bits of cranberry dressing smeared over everything does not a Christmas breakfast make.
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