The Culmination (The Club Series Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  Sunny spontaneously giggles again, making us both laugh—which finally makes Luna join in wholeheartedly with a deep belly laugh.

  “There it is,” Sarah says. “So hard to elicit, but so freaking rewarding when she finally gives it up.”

  “I pity the poor guy who tries to win Luna’s heart one day,” I say. “He’s gonna have his work cut out for him.”

  “Are you kidding? The guys are gonna be all over Lu like a cheap suit. From what I hear, men love a good challenge.” She winks.

  “Any self-respecting man does, anyway.”

  Sarah makes the slightest face at Sunny and she squeals with glee. “And then there’s gonna be Little Miss Sunshine, gleefully wearing her heart on her sleeve, throwing her love into the sky like confetti.” Sarah makes an exaggerated sad face. “And getting it crushed into a trillion tiny pieces.”

  I feel like she just punched me in the stomach. “Why would you say that? Even thinking about Sunny getting her heart broken makes me want to beat him up, whoever he is.”

  “Who?”

  “Whatever future asshole is gonna break my daughter’s innocent little heart.”

  “Oh, Jonas.” She shakes her head. “Both of our daughters will get their hearts broken. It’s unavoidable.”

  “Why is it unavoidable?”

  “Because the future Jonas and Josh Faradays of the world are out there, and they’re gonna break a lot of hearts before they finally figure themselves out. It’s just the way it is.”

  I pause, considering. “Well, maybe Sunny and Lu will be the girls who help the future Jonas and Josh Faradays finally figure themselves out.”

  “Maybe.”

  I look down at Sunny’s smiling face. “I’m gonna kill the bastards.”

  Sarah laughs. “I can only imagine how some poor sixteen-year-old is gonna crap his pants when he shows up to take Sunny to the movies and the Incredible Hulk answers the door.”

  “Oh, well that I can assure you will never happen because our daughters will never be allowed to date.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really. And certainly not at sixteen.”

  Sarah chuckles. “Well, good luck with that, Daddy. You do realize you’ve just guaranteed they’re gonna sneak out their windows in the middle of the night?”

  “I’ll put bars on the windows and doors, then.”

  “Ah. Well. Problem solved. That’s why they pay you the big bucks, Mr. Mogul.”

  “I’ve got to do something. Just look at them. They’re already knockouts.”

  We gaze at our daughters for a long minute, both of us sighing. I slip my hand into Sarah’s. “I know everyone says this about their own babies, but the objective fact is that our girls are the cutest babies ever in the history of time.”

  “Truth.”

  “If they’re this beautiful at five months old, I can’t even imagine how off-the-charts gorgeous they’re gonna be when they’re teenagers,” I say.

  “But you’re not biased or anything.”

  “Sarah. Look at them. This isn’t bias. It’s purely mathematical.”

  Sarah grins at me, and, just like that, I’m overcome with an all-consuming happiness. I pull her face into mine and kiss her deeply.

  “Zowie,” she says.

  “You’re the only human who says zowie.”

  She shrugs. “Bugs Bunny says it.”

  “Case in point.” I kiss her again, and my cock springs to life. “What do you think about us finally taking a weekend away?” I ask.

  She looks anxious.

  “I’ll plan everything. Rosario and your mom will stay with the girls. You won’t have to do a thing.” Shit. I’d meant to sound cool and collected, to lull her into a sense of calmness with my words, but I’m suddenly rambling with uncontained excitement.

  She considers for a minute. “Kat’s gonna pop any day now. I don’t wanna miss Jack’s arrival.”

  I try to breathe naturally. “We’ll go two weeks after Jack’s born, whenever that is. It’ll be Jack’s birthday present to us.” I put on my ‘Jack Faraday is a fucking beast’ voice. “When Jack Faraday celebrates a birthday, he gives his beloved aunt and uncle the best fuck of their life.” I laugh, but Sarah doesn’t join me. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, obviously filled with anxiety.

  “I dunno, Jonas. I’m not sure I’m ready to leave the girls overnight quite yet. Why don’t we go to a nearby hotel for an afternoon?”

  I sigh. Our sex life has returned to almost normal—which is pretty fucking awesome, I must say. But I’m ready to take it to a whole new level—a new normal—and I’m damned sure we have to get the hell out of Dodge, to a place where Sarah can lose herself completely and not think about whether one of her daughters is hungry or needs a nap, to get there.

  “Soon, Jonas. Okay?” Sarah says. “Really soon. Just give me a little bit more time to get used to the idea. The girls are still nursing so much.”

  I kiss her again. “Okay, baby. We’ll take it slow. Whenever you’re ready. You just let me know.”

  I glance down at Sunny and she giggles at me. “This is all your fucking fault, you know.”

  Sunny sticks her entire fist into her mouth and squeals.

  I lean down and nuzzle my nose into Sunny’s neck and she giggles. “All your fucking fault, my precious baby,” I say softly. “Do you know that? All. Your. Fucking. Fault.”

  “Gaaaaaahbuh,” Sunny replies.

  “That means, ‘I sowwy,’” Sarah says.

  I shift my face to the left and nuzzle Luna’s cheek. “Hello, my precious baby number two. It’s all your fucking fault, too.” I pull back to look into Luna’s dark eyes and she crinkles her nose at me, totally unimpressed. “Oh, really? How the hell did I piss you off this time, Lu?”

  Sarah laughs. “I wouldn’t take it too personally. I think she’s just pooping.” She picks Luna up and sniffs her butt. “Yep.” She scoops Luna off the blanket. “Come on, Lunatic. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  I scoop up Sunny and follow Sarah. “I tell you what, love. How about I work out while you and Rosario get the girls changed and fed? And when I get back, we’ll have Rosario take the girls out for a nice, long walk in their stroller.” I grin. “A nice, looooong walk to the park, perhaps? Long enough for me to take my hot wife to bed and make her howl like a monkey. No hotel required.”

  “Hmm. That sounds like a fantastic idea to me,” Sarah says, her eyes sparkling. “I never would have guessed it, but hanging out laughing with you and the babies makes me horny as hell.”

  I press myself into her and kiss her again. “I love you, Sarah.”

  “I love you, too, Jonas.” She touches the tattoo on my bare chest—something she does quite frequently, actually. “Todo mi mundo.”

  Chapter 40

  Jonas

  Fucking finally.

  She finally said yes.

  Thank you, God. I owe you one.

  I’ve got Uncle William’s private jet waiting for us at the airport.

  I’ve reserved a five-thousand-square-foot private villa for us in San Diego, atop the beachside cliffs in swanky Del Mar, at the top-rated luxury resort in all of California, complete with a private butler. And, of course, I’ve got Sarah’s bondage sheet and box of toys packed up and ready for action, along with a whole bunch of lingerie I bought for Sarah to wear tonight. We’ll be in San Diego for just two nights and I bought her ten night’s worth. I think I’m a bit excited.

  Tonight’s the night.

  Tonight’s the fucking night.

  I love my girls—God knows I do—but tonight I’m gonna forget they were ever born. Tonight we’re gonna fuck like we don’t have a care in the world. Fuck yeah.

  It’s been five months since the babies came home from the hospital. They’re seven months old... And, by God, that’s old enough to survive two fucking nights without Sarah personally putting them to bed. Rosario is a trusted member of our family by now, for Chrissakes—and Jack was born s
ix weeks ago. (And, damn, that boy sure lives up to his epic name.) There are no more excuses. No more reasons to wait. Tonight’s the night. I’m gonna fuck my wife like she’s never been fucked before. I’m gonna scramble her brain and confuse her muscles and break her long-established habits. And I’m gonna make her squirt like a fucking geyser, all by her little self. And she’s gonna fucking love it.

  The babies are taking their morning nap in the nursery. We said goodbye to them before putting them down.

  I check my watch. “Come on, baby. The limo’s probably already out front.”

  “Just a sec,” Sarah says. She’s flitting around the house with Rosario and her mother, checking and re-checking supplies, reminding Rosario which stuffed animal is each girl’s favorite and which yogurt Sunny prefers and how to rub Luna’s back so she falls right to sleep. It’s ridiculous, actually. Rosario lives here, for the love of God, and she knows our babies as well as we do. Probably better than I do, actually, since I have no idea which yogurt Sunny likes or whether Luna likes the purple stuffed kitty or the yellow dinosaur.

  I look at my watch again, but it’s an act. When you’ve chartered a private plane, the crew waits for you. As they should. Because I’m a fucking god among men. And I’m gonna fuck my wife ’til she sees God. And when she does, she’s gonna say, “Oh, hi, Jonas.”

  One of the babies fusses through the monitor Sarah’s holding in her hand (of course) and she freezes, listening intently to decipher the nature of the sound. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Sunny rolling over in her crib.

  “No te preocupes,” Rosario assures Sarah.

  “Just go and have fun,” Gloria adds.

  Sunny’s agonized wail suddenly blares through the monitor.

  “That was Sunny,” Sarah says, panic seizing her face—and, actually, I don’t blame her. Sunny never shrieks like that.

  All four of us rush toward the nursery.

  “Maybe she’s hungry?” Gloria says.

  But even I know that’s not the sound Sunny makes when she wants to eat.

  “Maybe she knows we’re leaving? And she’s upset?” Sarah says, her voice spiking with concern. “Babies are little sponges, you know. Maybe she senses we’re going and she’s distraught.”

  When we get to the nursery, Sunny’s sitting up in her crib, red-faced and crying, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Luna’s still fast asleep, blissfully ignoring her sister. The minute Sunny sees Sarah, she reaches up to her with both arms, her little body jerking with violent sobs. Sarah clutches Sunny and kisses her forehead. “Oh my God, Jonas. She’s burning up.”

  “Will you get the thermometer, Rosario?” Sarah asks in Spanish.

  Sarah puts her hand on Sunny’s forehead. “Jonas. Come feel her.”

  I waltz over, words of assurance already on the tip of my tongue—but when I put my hand on Sunny’s forehead, a wave of anxiety streaks through me. “Yeah, definitely warm.” In truth, I agree with Sarah: little Sunny’s burning up. But I don’t want to freak Sarah out any more than she already is.

  Sarah’s face flashes with anxiety—and I must admit her face looks exactly the way I feel. I touch Sunny’s face again. Holy fuck. My heart squeezes in my chest.

  Chapter 41

  Jonas

  This is not the way I expected to be spending tonight with Sarah. After spending three hours with Sunny in urgent care, followed by coming home and bathing her in a cool bath, followed by bouncing her for two hours while she sobbed uncontrollably, we’re now sitting with Sunny and Luna in the nursery in the wee hours of the morning, rocking them gently, lit only by a dim lamp in the corner.

  Gloria went home hours ago and Rosario finally went to bed just before midnight.

  Poor Sunny’s fever is still raging, though she’s finally quieted down, and wild horses couldn’t drag either of us away from her side.

  Sarah’s clutching Sunny to her chest and I’ve got Luna pressed against mine. There’s really no reason for me to be holding Luna right now, actually—I should probably leave the poor girl alone and let her sleep in her crib—but tonight I feel a particular need to hold her and keep her safe.

  Sarah takes Sunny’s temperature again.

  “Same as before?” I ask.

  “Same. But, hey, at least it’s not going up. That’s a good sign. The doctor said it’s not dangerous unless it goes up.”

  “Should we put her in a cool bath again?”

  “If it doesn’t go down in half an hour, we will. She’s finally quiet—let’s let her rest.”

  “When can we give her Tylenol again?”

  “Another hour.”

  “Is she sleeping?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Out like a light. Poor thing. What about Lu?”

  “Asleep.”

  We rock in silence for a couple minutes.

  “It broke my heart to see her crying like that tonight,” Sarah says. “Sunny never cries like that.”

  “I know. I thought I was gonna cry right along with her. I’d rather cut off my right arm than see her cry like that ever again.”

  Sarah chuckles. “Well, jeez, at least cut off your left arm. You kinda need your right arm.”

  “I’d cut off whatever it takes not to see my baby cry like that again.”

  “That’s a twisted game of Would You Rather right there: Would you rather cut off your right arm or see your baby cry?”

  “Cut off my arm.”

  “Would you rather cut off your penis or see your baby cry?”

  “Why you gotta go there, Sarah?”

  “Well, you said whatever it takes.”

  “I’m not gonna answer that question.”

  We rock in silence again for a minute.

  “Would you rather be born with no penis or have one and have it cut off?”

  “What’s with you and cutting off penises?”

  “Would you rather.”

  “I’m not gonna answer any question that involves cutting off my dick.”

  “So you’d rather be born without one?”

  “Yeah. Then I wouldn’t know what I was missing.”

  “Good answer. But what if you got to have a lot of sex before it was cut off? You’d rather be born without one and never get to experience sex?”

  “If I was born without a dick, I wouldn’t know what I was missing. I’d be the shackled man in Plato’s cave. Blissfully ignorant. There’s something to be said for blissful ignorance.”

  “Okay. Would you rather have no penis or five?” Sarah asks.

  “Five,” I answer quickly, and she laughs. “That’s an easy one.”

  “You could use a latex glove as a condom. Would you rather have no elbows or no knees?”

  “Um. No elbows.”

  “Me, too.” She chuckles.

  “We’d just hug each other all the time.”

  “Aw. Another greeting card for your collection. ‘Darling, if we were born without elbows, I’d hug you all the time. Happy Valentine’s Day.’”

  I laugh.

  “Would you rather crap your pants in public once a year for the rest of your life or crap yourself in private every single day?”

  I’m laughing too hard to respond.

  “Come on. Answer.”

  I can’t stop laughing. “You’re so fucking weird.”

  “Answer.”

  “Once a year in public,” I finally say.

  She belly laughs. “Me, too. Why?”

  “Because I’d just fly to some foreign country, crap my pants, and fly home. Not that big a deal. One day of my life.”

  She laughs for a good long minute. “You’re so good at strategizing. I never would have thought of that. Can I come with you and crap my pants in some exotic locale with you?”

  “Sure. Sounds kinda romantic.”

  Sarah laughs. “Seriously, baby, you gotta call Hallmark.”

  “It’s on my to do list.” We rock the babies quietly for a moment. “What country?” I ask.

  “What country w
hat?”

  “What country should we pick to fly to and crap our pants together?”

  “You can pick, love. Surprise me. Just make it a place where I couldn’t understand the exclamations of disgust being hurled at me.”

  “Okay. How about Bhutan?” I ask.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Then it’s perfect.”

  “Okay, book it. Jonas and Sarah’s Craptastic Adventure,” Sarah says.

  “Another round of delicious anticipation.”

  Sarah chuckles. “Okay, another one. Would you rather have a time machine that only goes back in time or a time machine that only goes forward in time?”

  “That’s easy. Forward. Always forward.”

  Sarah smiles. “You wouldn’t want to go back to Athens and hang out with Plato and talk about the meaning of life?”

  “No. I’d want to visit Sunny and Lu as old ladies. I’d want to sit and talk to my girls and ask them about their life.”

  “Aw.” She’s clearly moved by that answer.

  “Plus, I’m dying to find out if we ever cure cancer or invent flying cars and find out if global warming obliterates the planet like they say it will. What about you?”

  “Oh, future all the way. Fuck the past.”

  “Fuck it.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Motherfucker.” I laugh. “Okay. Ask me a really good one. Something that’d be really hard to choose.”

  She thinks. “Would you rather have to listen to One Direction or Justin Bieber every single time we engage in any kind of sexual act for the rest of our lives?”

  “Oh my God! Are you Satan?”

  She laughs. “You have to choose.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. You can’t play the game and not follow the rules.”

  I scowl.

  “Pick.”

  I shake my head.

  “Jonas Faraday. Yes. No pussing out.”

  I exhale. “One Direction.”

  “I knew it!” She hoots with laughter. “You secretly like my boys as much as I do.”

  I try to suppress my smile. “They’re okay, actually. Except for that one with the douche-y hair and the butterfly tattoos.”