Deliciously Obedient

by Julia Kent

  Sandy sighed. “We will, Mom. We hear you. Let’s just get you in bed and resting and then—”

  Madge made a rude noise. “I’m only going to bed with Ed. And it won’t involve resting.” Wink.

  Alex cringed as he walked with the group. Ed seemed not to have heard, his attention caught up in watching a little boy riding a bicycle across the street, streamers pouring from the handlebars, the boy a blur.

  “I remember teaching you how to rid a bike, Alex, when you were about his age,” he said softly, enraptured by the scene. Lydia admired his gentle wistfulness, and wondered if that was how Pete felt about her. Because Ed’s expression was a mixture of pride and sadness.

  “You did, Grandpa,” he answered as they reached the main door. Lydia caught his eye and the doctor smiled, then took out his phone.

  “We can take it from here if you have to work,” she said. “Besides, if you aren’t one of the anointed, Grandma might start throwing things to make you leave.”

  Alex laughed and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “Thanks. I do have to be somewhere, and it seems like Madge has more than enough company.”

  “Is Ed okay to be left alone? His Alzheimer’s, I know—”

  “Oh! No, he’s fine,” Alex interrupted. “It’s not that advanced. He’ll be a big help to her.”

  “In more ways than one,” she said under her breath.

  “I try not to think about that,” he said in a choked voice. They shared a sickly smile

  “Lydia!” Madge called out. “Come help me beat these weirdos off with a stick.”

  Alex waved as he trotted off to his car. “Have fun!” he called back.

  “Ha!” she shouted, then marched into her apartment.

  Er, her old apartment.

  Sandy, Pete and Miles were standing in an awkward formation in the kitchen as Madge sat on the couch, her tie-dyed quilt over her, with Ed sitting next to her, holding her hand.

  “Go to Jeddy’s and get a cup of coffee,” she barked.

  Miles rolled his eyes. “You’d think we were torturing her instead of helping her.”

  “This is Grandma,” Lydia said slowly. “You expected something different?”

  “Quit talking about me like I’m not here!” Madge snapped.

  “You know,” Miles said with a fake brightness that made Lydia’s hair on the back of her neck stand up. “I think Grandma’s got a point.” Bending mightily to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and extending his hand to shake Ed’s, Miles walked out without a word.

  Pete shrugged at Sandy, who sighed deeply and said, “Fine. If that’s what Mom wants.”

  “It is!”

  Sandy looked at Lydia with pleading eyes. “Take care of her?”

  “Of course.” A round of hugs and kisses galore and the front door clicked shut.

  “Thank fucking God they’re all gone!” Madge declared.

  “I heard that!” Sandy’s muffled voice came through from behind the thick door.

  “You were supposed to! See you next weekend, and I love you!” Madge practically screamed.

  “We’re the Brady Bunch. In Bizarro world,” Lydia snorted.

  Ed just smiled and looked like he was happy to be here. Lydia thought he was, likely, the sanest one there.

  Madge looked at Lydia with narrowed eyes. “Eddie,” she said without breaking her look, “would you make me a nice cup of coffee and some cookies?”

  He patted her knee and flashed Lydia a thousand watt smile. “Of course I will.” As he walked into the kitchen he touched Lydia’s elbow and whispered, “You don’t have to stay long,” followed by a flirty wink.

  Oh, dear.

  She was the cockblocker.

  Madge patted the empty seat next to her and scowled. “Sit.”

  Lydia sat.

  “Spill.”

  Lydia spilled, pouring out the entire story as fast as she could. Remarkably fast, as she heard Ed rifling through the refrigerator and cupboards in search of fulfilling his task.

  “...so I have two men who both want me, and want me at the same time, Grandma.” Boy, was that sentence all sorts of wrong.

  “The guy from the video is back and you slept with him?”

  Nod.

  “And the slacker manchild from Iceland—”

  “Not a slacker!”

  “—you slept with him. Now they both want you. Together. Threesome and all that.” Her grandma didn’t bat an eyelash. She might as well have been talking with a calm Krysta. How Madge managed to maintain such equanimity in the face of sexual extremes gave Lydia pause. Her grandma made it seem so normal. Not the threesome part, but the emotional grappling. The subject happened to be unconventional, but the emotional process just was.

  “Advice?” Lydia asked.

  “Do I look like Dan Savage?’

  “Hell, no. He’s waaaaay cuter.”

  Madge hacked out a laugh. “If I have any advice to give, Lydia, it’s don’t have a heart attack. I taste metal and it burns when I pee. Who knows what those people did to me. Aliens might have probed my ass.”

  “That was just me copping a feel!” called out a lovely baritone voice from the kitchen.

  Madge laughed at Lydia’s crumpled face. “Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we don’t get turned on,” she said kindly.

  “Do you have to talk about it so much?”

  “Do you talk about sex with Krysta all the time?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Do whatever your clit tells you to do.”

  “GRANDMA!”

  “Oh, did I say ‘clit’? I meant heart. Whatever your heart tells you to do.”

  “The last time I did that, I got on camera and a billion people saw my ass.”

  “I said ‘heart’ this time, not ‘clit’.”

  Lydia chortled. “I think I followed both that time.”

  “Try just the heart for a change.”

  Ed entered the living room with two cups of coffee and a plate of cookies. Subtle cue for her to leave and let love flourish in whatever way Madge and Ed wanted it to take form.

  Three days of not seeing Lydia. Three nights of sleeping on Mike’s couch. Three long stretches of time to fill. Not enough coffee, gym time, Netflix or portfolio management to fill the hours.

  Jeremy needed Lydia. Not time.

  Mike had flown back to Indiana for a visit with his mom, an act that Jeremy couldn’t emulate. His dad had died about a year before his mom, leaving him completely alone. Two aunts and an uncle stayed in contact, and for big family holidays he always had somewhere to go, but that had wound down to an annual appearance somewhere at Christmas. That was it. And, as time passed, he’d become the eccentric cousin/nephew no one really understood.

  Which was fine with him.

  Because it was true.

  Alone was fine when it was his choice, but this wasn’t what he would have selected for himself. Lydia’s absence made him ache. Not just his southern brain, either. All of him. Every fiber wanted to be with her, even as his rational mind knew that giving her space was more important than slaking his thirst for her.

  All that needed to be said had been said by both him and Mike. Leaving space and time for Lydia to figure this out for herself meant dealing with uncertainty.

  Which sucked.

  Sucked bad.

  Bzzz. A text from Mike:

  Took an earlier flight. Want to take a drive up the coast with me?

  Jeremy looked around the apartment, all grey and black and sleek, so different from how he would decorate a place.

  First, he’d start with a cabin with exposed beams...

  Yes, he texted back.

  Meet me outside—driving up and already packed, so let’s just go.

  What if she wants more space?

  Pause. Jeremy jumped up and grabbed a couple shirts, some pants, boxer briefs and—with a heaping dose of optimism—threw in Mike’s unopened twelve pack of condoms and some lube.

  Then we tur
n around.

  Reading the reply as he stormed out of the apartment and down the hall, bag banging against his hip, he didn’t know whether to laugh or wince.

  How about both?

  Mike tapped his toe against the accelerator, other foot firmly on the brake, completely pumped with adrenaline and the constant motion of being in action.

  Finally.

  Three days back home had given him space and time that was different from his stretch at the campground. Spending time with his mother, visiting old haunts, and just regrouping—checking in with the man he’d been long before creating his public persona, and deciding how the next phase of his life needed to unfold had given him a sense of purpose.

  And urgency.

  Flow.

  Jeremy practically tackled the car door and flung himself in the passenger’s seat, to the extent that a six and a half foot form could. Breathing hard, he twisted into a pretzel to dump a gym bag in the backseat, whipped around for his seat belt, clicked in and turned to Mike with eyes as excited as Mike’s.

  “Go.”

  As he guided the rented Audi out of the garage, he said dryly, “Whatever happened to waiting until Lydia calls us?”

  “Pffft. You were right.”

  “Say that again.”

  “You were right,” Jeremy said louder.

  “Again.”

  “You. Were. Ri—oh, fuck off,” he added, laughing.

  “Just like to hear that.”

  Jeremy looked around the car’s interior. “What about your Tesla?”

  “The driving range is too limited on the battery.”

  “First world problems.”

  “.0000001 percent world problems. But then again, you’re the billionaire.”

  “Don’t you forget it.”

  Mike’s jaw ground down. “Don’t worry. I never will.”

  Aside from a quick delay at a donut shop for a pit stop, some sugar fuel and a few nasty coffees, they didn’t waver in their determination to get to the campground, making it there just as the lights to the registration desk went dim. In the darkness, Mike could appreciate the place on a different level, the campground lights marring the perfect ink with sparkles that made up the night sky.

  “Lydia in the same cabin you guys shared?” Mike asked.

  Jeremy gave him a funny look. “How would I know?”

  Oh. Yeah.

  “Then where should we look?”

  “We? You are about to completely reveal yourself to Pete and Sandy—who will shit bricks big enough to feed to lobsters older than you—and we’re surprising Lydia. I don’t think this is a we mission.”

  “This is a we mission.”

  “If you want to push her away, embarrass her in front of her parents, and destroy whatever shred of a chance we have at making this actually work out, keep it up. Your need for control certainly hasn’t changed.”

  “I own my actions. It’s time to step up.” More than time. He needed to be open and reveal all, then handle the fallout. Secrets weren’t cutting it any more. Let the people in his life sort themselves out by telling the truth. It was the ultimate filter.

  Too bad it took so long for Mike to figure that out.

  “Maybe for you. Maybe you need to reveal your deception, but step back a minute before you step up.” His heart was slamming and his breathing a bit labored as the full reality hit him. Urgency faded as Jeremy’s words sank in.

  “Then how? How do we do this?” he asked, his voice angrier than he wanted, hands gripping the wheel. The blood pumped so hard through him he could see the veins on his wrists throbbing.

  “Let me find her first, and then we’ll find a way for you to come into the picture.”

  “No!” Mike slammed his palm against the steering wheel just as a set of headlights came up behind them.

  “Move the car,” Jeremy ordered as Mike took the initiative and pulled up and into a parking spot by the registration desk. The car behind them turned off toward the a cluster of tents.

  “Mike, be reasonable. Let’s do this in layers.”

  “Layers.”

  “Layers. One step at a time. I’ll find her—”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “What about Pete and Sandy?”

  “I don’t care any more!” Mike shouted, exasperated. “I’ll take the hit! They’ll learn I’m Mike Bournham and not Mike Davis. They’ll find out I lied. I’ll apologize and then can we just fucking move on and quit living in suspended animation? My life feels like I’m caught spinning my wheels and I’d rather be in pain and moving forward than in pain and stuck in one place!”

  The look on Jeremy’s face was a mix of awe, confusion, and admiration. “Okay then,” he said slowly, reaching for the car door handle. “Let’s do it your way. You lead.”

  “Why the change?”

  “Because you have more to lose than I realized, but it sounds like you’re losing every minute we don’t do this. So why not just get it over with.”

  Just as Mike was about to respond:

  Tap tap tap.

  In the dark, the hooded character, wearing a dark sweatshirt, wasn’t recognizable. Mike lowered the window and a very familiar voice said:

  “Hi. Could you please move your car?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  What the hell were they doing here? Standing outside in the dark, wearing just a hoodie and sweatpants, her feet shoved in slip-ons as she’d run out to see what the late-arriving “guests” might need, Lydia shivered as much from the cold as from anticipation. Her night was supposed to involve an intimate encounter with her tongue.

  And a pint of Triple Caramel Chunk ice cream.

  These two men were far more delicious.

  “I assume you aren’t here to rent a cabin,” she said as the two just grinned at her, Jeremy like a golden retriever who hasn’t seen its owner for a few hours but acts like it’s been years, and Mike with a half-grin that made butterflies appear in her stomach.

  “You have one of your own?” Mike said in a low voice.

  “Yes, I do.” Oh, hell no. She wasn’t ready. Not. Ready. At. All. Besides, she hadn’t shaved in days. Sleeping with her would be the equivalent of a facial, her stubble an exfoliant better than sea salt scrubs.

  The idea of one of their cheeks against her legs...

  Or both.

  “But you two can sleep in there.” She thumbed toward the outhouse.

  “Only if you’re not planning to twirl any batons,” Jeremy said with a smirk.

  Silence. She let the joke hang in the air, completely paralyzed.

  “Well?” Mike asked, hand on the car door handle now, popping the metal door open.

  A halting step back and her body zoomed with adrenaline. “Well, what?”

  “Well,” Jeremy said as he unfolded himself from the car. “How about a cup of coffee? You in the same cabin?”

  “Yes. Your phones broken?”

  “Phones?” Jeremy stopped short and stared at her. God, she’d missed him. His hair was wild and loose, face eager, hands at his sides and a thick ski jacket covered him, navy and form fitting. He looked like a snowboarder, had the feel of a man accustomed to using his body with skill, and she held back from launching herself into his arms.

  Took a lot of self control.

  And then Mike got out of his car.

  Holy hell. She covered up the rush of arousal and her mind’s naughty thoughts as she looked at both.

  “Yes, your phones. You could have called.”

  Mike stared evenly at her. “If we’d done that, you’d have said no.”

  “I have a right to say no.”

  “You have a right to say whatever you want.”

  “And to feel whatever you feel,” Jeremy added, coming closer. If she took one step she could touch them both.

  “Lydia? Honey?” Her dad’s voice crackled in the inky night, making her jump. Jeremy’s face filled with panic with receded quickly, replaced with a determination that almost made h
er gasp. This was a reckoning, not between her and Mike and Jeremy, but between the Lydia she wanted to be and the people who loved her.

  It was time to show the world who she really was.

  But it was Mike’s turn, first.

  “Pete,” Mike said amiably, walking to him and extending a hand. Her dad shook it, a confused look on his face as his eyes caught hers, then Jeremy’s, and finally settled on Mike’s.

  “Mike? You back?”

  Mike gave Lydia a look of affection. Oh, he clearly wasn’t holding anything back. The butterflies in her stomach turned into Mothra. This was why they were here.

  To come clean.

  Two worlds were about to collide, Lydia at the intersection. She would come out of this crushed, or freed.

  Or crushed and freed.

  Suspicion filled Pete’s eyes as he stepped back from the handshake and planted his hands on his hips. Dressed in jeans and three layers on top, plus a ski jacket, he was far better equipped for the cold night than Lydia, who began to chatter uncontrollably.

  “For God’s sake, Lydia, get inside and warm up by the stove.” Her dad’s voice was commanding and rougher than usual. Involuntarily she responded, hopping back to the rec hall where they’d just been, dreading finding her mother and having to explain this.

  For the past three days all she’d done was contemplate this. Whatever this was, it was her—what she wanted and who she wanted to be. Countless phone calls and text sessions with Krysta solidified her understanding that the struggle inside her wasn’t real. Deep down, there was no conflict. She wanted both men.

  The torment came from the clash between what society expected and what her heart knew.

  And now that conflict was staring her in the face as she huddled under a blanket by the wood stove, Sandy’s curious eyes shattering Lydia’s soul.

  What came next would change her entire family forever.

  Forever.

  Leaving home had been hard. Losing Luke to war had been torturous. The Charles family had weathered many struggles, but this one was Lydia’s alone to live, yet the ripple effect of losing her parents’ love made the fear inside so much stronger than she’d ever felt in her life.