“They tried to revive her,” he continues. “But it was too late. She—She’d lost too much blood.”
“Jeffrey,” I say, reaching my hands up to touch his face, smoothing his tears away with my thumbs. His pain is palpable, reaching deep within my bones.
He doesn’t say another word. Just stares into my eyes. I’m experiencing a connection the likes of which I’ve ever felt before. It’s as if I can finally really see this man. Truly see him, right down to his soul, and it terrifies me just how much I like what I see.
I’m a little unsure if it’s the right move to make when I pull his face down, bringing his lips to mine. I kiss him softly. Tenderly. It takes Jeff a moment to respond, and I’m afraid he’s about to push me away, but his lips part and his tongue brushes against mine. It’s velvety soft and tastes of whiskey. Jeffrey takes his time savoring every stroke, every breath, every touch.
Knotting his fingers into my hair, he holds me close, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. “I need to get you upstairs,” he rasps against my lips, and my heart damn near convulses in my chest.
It takes me a moment to come down from the cloud I’m floating on. “Lead the way.”
The ride in the elevator up to the twenty-sixth floor is excruciating. I don’t know which is fluttering faster, my heart or my nether region. I want another taste of what we started downstairs, but the elevator is packed, so I have to settle for discreet touches. A brush of his hand on my backside. The feathering of his lips at my temple. His warm breath on my neck.
When we finally reach our floor and make it into Jeffrey’s hotel room, I’m all wound up and overly emotional.
“Gina,” he growls, backing me up against the hotel room door. His hands are on my face, his thumbs tracing my jawline, my neck, my collarbone. “Thank you for today,” he rasps, hitting me with another one of his soul-deep stares. “I needed this.” His head shakes, and he lets out a resigned breath. “I needed you more than I realized.”
“Jeffrey,” I mewl, unsure of how to respond to such declarations. My heart is racing, my pussy throbbing, and there’s something else—something foreign—and it’s making me all warm and tingly. “I still need you.”
He chuckles as I rub myself up against him, and I’m glad I can lighten his mood a little. I hate seeing him hurt. “You really have a thing for my dick, don’t you?”
“God, yes.” I reach for his button, unfastening his pants, and they fall to the floor with a thud.
“Slow down, babe. My wallet is in my pocket. I need a condom.”
I don’t know what comes over me in that moment, but I want to do something with him I’ve never done with another man. He’s shared so much of himself today, and I want to give him something in return. “I want you to fuck me bare,” I say, lifting my dress over my head and tossing it to the floor.
His jaw drops, “Gina, I don’t...I mean, I obviously have, but not since...”
Panic wells in my chest, and I press my finger to his lips. “Please, don’t go there. Not now, Jeffrey.” If he says her name in this moment, I will run home crying like a horny-ass baby. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I just thought...Well, I’ve never done it before without a condom, and it was just an idea.”
He worries his lip between his teeth, his eyes roaming up and down the length of my body. “Are you sure?”
Nodding, I rub my hands over his chest. “I had a hysterectomy, Jeff. It’s impossible for me to get pregnant, and I swear I’m clean.”
“You trust me?” he asks, incredulous.
“You’re the most responsible man I’ve ever met, and the only one I’ve ever trusted enough.”
My words seem to flip a switch in him. Jeff scoops me into his arms, carrying me over to the bed where he gently lays me across the middle. Before joining me, he removes the rest of his clothing. The bedside lamp is the only light in the room, and it’s on just long enough for me to get a glimpse of the light spattering of hair on his chest that runs down to a mouthwatering happy trail, pointing straight to the promised land, before Jeff switches it off on his way into bed.
“You’re so beautiful, Tink, lying in my bed with your hair spread over my pillow like that,” he says, crawling in to rest beside me. He trails one finger along the bend of my neck, over the tops of my breasts, down the center of my tummy, finally skimming the waist of my suit bottom.
My entire body comes alive beneath the tenderness in his touch. “No one’s ever touched me like that,” I admit, squirming a little.
“With a finger?”
“With their heart.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JEFFREY
I WAKE FROM a dead sleep with vomit rising in my throat. The smell of alcohol seeping from my pores only increases the urge to hurl. Swallowing hard, I pull in deep breaths—a weak attempt to ward off the inevitable and inhale a mouthful of hair.
Hair? What the fuck?
“Mmm,” an unmistakably female voice moans, shifting her naked body further on top of mine. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close, but it feels all wrong. My Jess was tall and curvy, with hair that stopped at her shoulders. The locks I just pulled from my mouth extend well past the too-small tits resting against my chest. She stirs again, and I get a whiff of strawberries and tequila. Tink. The day before flashes like a movie reel in my mind. The party at Dillon’s house, brunch, the strip club, the sex. More sex. Incredible fucking sex. The psychic—what a fucking disaster.
I reach for my phone, bringing it to my face to check the time. Just after 6:30 in the morning.
She stayed the night.
Son of a bitch. Whatever progress I’d made at pushing down the bile in my throat is gone. I throw her off me, tripping over our discarded shoes and clothing as I feel my way through the dark, unfamiliar hotel room to the bathroom and fall to my knees, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
“What the fuck, Jeffrey?” I hear Gina shout from the bed. “You almost tossed me right onto the—oh. Oh, are you all right?” Day-old booze sprays from my mouth and nose with violent force. I can’t stop myself to answer.
Tap. Tap. Tap. I feel her presence lurking in the doorway. “Do you need anything?” There she goes, trying to take care of me again. I told her I didn’t want a girlfriend. What happened between us last night meant nothing.
“Out. Get. Out!” I manage to roar between retching.
“Whatever,” the very embodiment of regret grumbles from behind me, still naked. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Out!” I shout, as my heart twists up into knots.
Gina gasps, loudly, but I can’t bring myself to turn around and face her. “Are you kicking me out? Like out, out?”
My eyes burn with unshed tears as a wave of guilt threatens to suffocate me. I haven’t spent the night with another woman since my wife. And what we did—what I remember of last night— was so much more than fucking. “Please, go.”
“You know what? Fuck you, Jeffrey. Fuck you for treating me like a fucking whore.” She spits a string of curses that I more than deserve as she rushes around the room, throwing on her clothes and collecting her belongings.
“Jessica,” I moan into the bowl. I can’t remember ever feeling this awful.
“Newsflash, CEO,” Gina shouts as she walks past. “She’s dead!” The door slams shut.
§§
After a few hours, a steaming hot shower, and a cruise around town to clear my head, I’m parking my gray Tundra in Gramma Betty’s pea-pebble drive.
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Jessica’s elderly mother observes, not even trying to hide her amusement. “I take it you had a good time last night?”
With a shrug of my shoulders, I place a kiss to her cheek and step inside. “It was okay. How were the girls?”
“They was just fine. Like always.”
“Daddy!” Willow shouts as she comes barreling through the house, her bare feet slapping on the wood floor. She wraps her arms and legs around
my calf, sitting on the top of my foot, and I give her a ride, dragging her along with me to the kitchen. Her peals of laughter brighten my mood considerably.
“Did you have fun with Gramma, baby girl?”
“We haded a tea pawty and Nina and Becky came sweepover too.” Nina and Becky are their cousins on Jess’s side. Her brother Jacob’s kids. They don’t see each other near as often as they used to, and I feel bad about that, but I just couldn’t bring myself to continue living in a town where I see my wife at every turn.
“That sounds amazing.” After untangling her from my leg, I lift my mini-me into my lap and brush back her mass of blonde curls with my hand, raining kisses along her forehead and cheeks. “I missed you, princess.”
“You didn’t tell me Evangeline was seeing someone.” Betty’s tone is accusing.
“They met on the cruise last month and talk on the phone. That hardly constitutes dating.”
She shrugs. “Vangie seems to think he’s her boyfriend,” Betty singsongs with a small smirk. The woman loved to rile me up.
“Impossible.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and send Willow for her brush.
The old woman crosses her arms on her chest, tapping her slippered foot on the floor with amusement in her eyes. “Why’s that impossible?”
“Cuz I never said she could have a boyfriend.”
When my little girl returns with her bag, I fish out the brush and ponytail holders, working my lingering frustration out on the knots. Ignoring Betty’s chuckle, I begin parting Willow’s hair into two pieces and then put each side up into a high ponytail, just the way Vangie taught me. “There,” I say, swatting her on the bottom to send her off to play. “Much better.”
“What happened last night?” my mother-in-law asks, once Willow is out of the room. “Something’s bothering you, I can tell.”
“It’s nothing,” I lie, not wanting to get into how confused I am over my feelings for a woman who is not my wife—who is not her daughter.
“All she ever wanted was for you to be happy, you know?” Damn this woman for being able to read me so well. Guess that’s what happens when you’ve known someone for as long as we’ve known each other.
A wad of emotion rises in my throat. “I know.” And I do. We had the conversation multiple times during our many years together, about how we’d want each other to move on if anything ever happened to one of us. But when we said those things, I never imagined it would ever become my reality. It’s not like she and I parted on bad terms. I’m in love with that woman today as much as I ever was. That’s why whatever is happening with Tink has me all fucked up.
“She’s not coming back, Jeffrey.” Betty walks over, rubbing her hand along my upper back. “Whatever happened...it’s okay.”
“What’s wrong?” Vangie’s face is filled with concern as she walks in on her grandmother and me in a tearful embrace.
“Everything’s fine, baby. Come give Daddy a hug. I missed you.”
My big girl walks over hesitantly, still trying to figure out what she’s missing. When she wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me tight, she whispers, “He is so my boyfriend.”
“Is not.”
“Yep,” she argues, popping the p as she walks over to the counter and grabs an apple from the fruit basket. “He’s a great kisser, too.”
The urge to vomit has suddenly returned. “You’re grounded.”
Vangie glares at me then takes a bite and smirks. “Am not.”
§
On our way home, we make our routine stop at Guidry’s, the local flower shop. Willow picks out her usual bouquet of pink roses, and this time Evangeline chooses a spring mix. I grab the biggest bouquet of red roses I can find and drive over to the cemetery for a picnic with Jessica.
I know that probably sounds morbid. I promise that I haven’t fallen off the deep end. Before Jessica died, we used to take Evangeline to the park for a picnic every Sunday after church. On the day of her funeral, my little girl asked if we could come back here to have a picnic with Mommy since she wouldn’t be able to come to the park. It didn’t matter how creepy or weird it made me, my baby had just lost her mother, and there was no way in hell I was going to tell her no. Since then, without fail, one Sunday a month, we come out to visit Jessica. I think it’s been a positive thing for the girls—a way for us all to feel close to her. For Willow to have some form of relationship with her.
“Tum fine me Daddy,” Willow yells from somewhere in the graveyard.
“Willow, we don’t play around the graves. Come out and finish your sandwich.”
“Fine, den. I jus gonna stay hiding til Mom fines me,” she threatens.
Evangeline rolls her eyes. “She’s dead, sissy. Mom’s not coming to find you.” Ouch. There’s that word again. I feel like I’ve been beat over the head during the past twenty-four hours with reminders of the fact that my wife is gone for good. Someone definitely wants me to get that memo.
“It’s not fair,” Willow whines, coming out from behind a large tomb and making her way back to join us on the blanket. “I never get to pway wif Mommy. Vangie gotted to.”
“I’m sorry, princess. I’ll play with you when we get home, okay? It’s just disrespectful to play in the cemetery.” It takes all the strength I can muster not to fall to fucking pieces in front of my girls.
Godamn it. Does this ever get easier?
“I don’t wanna pway wif you again. I want my mommy.”
Me too, pumpkin. Me too.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GINA
“WELL, HELLO THERE, sunshine.” Cooper welcomes me with a huge grin that’s just oozing sarcasm when I burst through the front door of their house.
“Don’t start with me,” I warn, pointing my finger at him. “Spencerrrrrr!” I shout. “I need you. It’s an emergency!”
“She’s upstairs investigating a drive-by shaving.” Coop’s eyes roll when her voice echoes down the stairwell.
“Oh, shit,” I groan. “I’m going in.”
A soft chuckle follows. “Good luck. I’m gonna hang down here and watch the babies.” He gestures to the sleeping infants in the bassinet, making air quotes. “And maintain safe distance away from that.” His eyes point upward.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush over to see what my sister-wife is screaming about. How dare she have a crisis coinciding with mine? Doesn’t she know I need her?
“Which one of you did it?” she asks, pointing to the rug of pubes lining her tub—her sanctuary. “And don’t try to blame Coop. It wasn’t him...I checked.”
Lake and Landon each point a finger at the other. “Wasn’t me.”
Oh, this is gonna be good, I think, bracing myself against the doorframe, ready to watch this thing play out.
“Don’t think I won’t make him come up here and check,” my deranged friend threatens.
“You can’t make me do it!” Coop shouts from the bottom of the stairs.
“You both know very well that I can make him do anything,” Spence grits between clenched teeth. “Fess up.”
Lake tugs the top of his basketball shorts down a fraction of an inch. “See, Mom? I didn’t do it. The trail of tears is still fully intact.”
“Uh, excuse me,” I interject, stepping into the room, finally making my presence known. “It’s called a happy trail.”
“Oh, no, Aunt Gina. One day when some lucky lady, whoever she may be, gets her eyes on what I’m packin’...There will be tears of joy, or pain.” He shrugs then smirks.
“Oh, God.” Spencer rolls her eyes with exasperation. “I don’t even know how to deal with this shit.” She waves her hand, gesturing to the teen boys who are doing their best to give my best friend a heart attack before they reach adulthood.
“Fine,” Landon pipes up, hanging his head in shame. “It was me.”
“Why the hell are you—you know what? It’s probably best if you don’t answer that. Just know this,” she says, getting up on her toes to get as close to e
ye level as she can manage. She’d be better off standing on the toilet seat at this point. “I have access to all of your text messages, and if your porno nuts pop up in the texts between you and Evangeline...I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”
“I’m no—”
“I don’t want to hear another word. Now find a way to get that shit out of my bathtub, and you’d better not miss a single one.” Spencer gags. “And don’t rinse it down the drain, or you’ll be the one explaining to the plumber why he’s pulling your pubes out of the pipes.”
“Never a dull moment around here, is there?” I ask, trying not to be an asshole and laugh. She’s really pissed. I’ll make fun of her later.
“Hey, Gina.” She walks over to give me a squeeze, and I can feel her heart racing from exertion.
“You need to calm down, Spence. You just gave birth five weeks ago. This can’t be good for you, Momma.”
“I know...they just make me so damn crazy sometimes, Gina. I mean, they know they aren’t allowed in my bathroom, for one.” She eyes the two delinquent boys.
Lake throws his hands up. “Hey, don’t look at me.”
“And you never asked if you could shave your balls,” she adds pointedly at Landon.
“Hey. You never said I couldn’t.”
Shrug. “The boy kinda has a point.”
“Traitor,” she whisper-hisses. “He at least could have cleaned up the fucking evidence. It’s like when they were little—” A huge grin lights her face. Squirrel! “Remember? When they first learned to write, and they’d graffiti the walls and furniture?”
Oh, how I miss those days. “And they always swore it wasn’t them,” I finish her thought. “But the little fuckers always wrote their own names.”
The twins’ cheeks turn an identical shade of red.
“They weren’t even smart enough to write each others’ names,” Spence adds, laughing.
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