Restored Dreams: more romance for the over 40 (#sexysilverfoxes)

by L. B. Dunbar

  “No,” I grunt. “Call Midge.”

  “What about Brut?” Ester asks, her large dark eyes opening wide. She’s scared, and I try to smile, but the pain ripples through me again.

  “He’ll only worry. No. Call Midge.”

  “Midge is on the phone,” Julia says, lowering my cell phone to me on the floor.

  Oh God, I groan as another wave of sharp pain ripples through me. My hand clutches at my belly. Come on, Lima Bean. Be a good girl.

  “We have too much testosterone in this family already,” Brut proclaimed one day, declaring Lima Bean must be a girl. As if it worked like that.

  “What’s going on?” Midge asks on speakerphone.

  “My stomach. The pain.” I’m gritting my teeth.

  “Lily, honey. Call the doctor.”

  “But is this normal?”

  “Lily, call the doctor.” Midge’s voice rises.

  “Midge, just tell me.” Panic sets in. I’m way too early for Braxton Hicks. Fear grips me, and I start crying. Oh my God, am I losing Lima Bean?

  Ester takes the phone and scrolls through my contacts. The doctor’s next on speakerphone and suggests I come into the office. Ester helps me up from the floor and escorts me to my car. She barks out an order that Julia’s in charge, which doesn’t make me feel better.

  Ester drives like she’s in the Daytona 500, and all I want to do is close my eyes to the pain. I’m clutching the door handle and my belly, keeping my eyes forward as each time I shut them, I feel dizzy.

  “This is normal, right?” I mutter.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Ester groans, determination in her tone although she seems as panicked as I am. I can’t lose this baby. What if I lose the baby? Tears flow again, swimming with my fear.

  I’m so sorry, Brut, I whisper in my head.

  I love you, Lima Bean.

  + + +

  “Thank fuck,” I hear muttered after heavy boots stomp up the staircase to the loft above the bakery. I’m back in the apartment, lying on my bed. I have a clear visual of Brut as he crests the staircase. I just stare at him. Brut, the beautiful man with his golden tan, bright blue eyes, and that white hair. He falls to his knees beside the bed and brushes back my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have been here.”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, my throat dry. “I’m okay.” He looks down at my belly, which is covered both by my knees pulled up to my chest and the light blanket over my legs.

  “Lima Bean?” he whispers.

  “She’s fine.” Brut exhales and lowers his head to the edge of the bed, rolling it back and forth on the mattress. He stands abruptly and paces away from me, his back to me.

  “I just…just give me a second.” His shoulders fall forward as his hand comes to his face. His movements show he’s pinching his eyes. Is he crying?

  “Brut,” I call out softly. He responds by wiggling his head again. He holds up the back of his hand. He needs another second.

  I slowly press up to my side, and the shift turns his attention. He’s at the edge of the bed once again, gently pushing me back to the mattress.

  “Just relax. Rest.”

  I lie back but keep my focus on his glistening eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  His brow pinches. “What are you sorry for?” Tender fingertips brush over my forehead. “What happened?”

  “The doctor said dehydration…and stress.”

  “Lily pad,” Brut admonishes. “You’re working too hard.”

  I hold his eyes. “This is what I do.”

  “I know, but you need to let me take care of you. You need to let others help.”

  “You sound like Ester.”

  Brut makes a funny face. “Shhh, don’t let her know I agree with her on something.” Brut’s still stroking back my hair, and I smile weakly at him.

  “Look, I know we have a lot to discuss, and I don’t want to upset you, but I have a few things to say now. Maybe it will take the stress away.” He takes a deep breath. “We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to.”

  “I do, I just—”

  “Let me finish, okay? You laid a lot out on me yesterday morning, and I didn’t have the chance to defend some of it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I interrupt again, and a finger comes to my lips.

  “There’s no rush to marry. In fact, if you prefer to live together, that’s fine. I understand you’re a modern, independent woman, and maybe you want things differently than I do. I want you to be my wife, Lily pad. I’ve waited a long time, endlessly hoping I’d get a second chance with you, and I feel my prayers have been answered. But I understand you might not feel the same way, and I respect that. I want to respect whatever you think works best. I’d just like to say I think us together would be better than anything separate, but I’ll do what you wish.”

  What I wish. How I wish you’d say you loved me? How I wish you’d ask me to marry you and mean it? Instead, I nod.

  “I don’t want you to make any decisions right now or even tonight, tomorrow, whenever. I’d like you to come home, though. I want you to be in my house, to make it our house. Together. But I don’t want to pressure you.” He sighs. He’s been plucking at the blanket the entire time he’s spoken, but he reaches for my hand, pulling it to his lips to linger on my knuckles. “Just don’t say it’s the end of us, okay? Please, Lily pad, don’t leave me or tell me to leave you…”

  My heart patters to a halt. I don’t want him to walk away. I want him to run toward me. I want the beyond he promises.

  “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” I say softly, and Brut’s head shoots upward.

  “You’ll come home?” The hopeful strain in Brut’s voice breaks my heart all over again.

  “Tomorrow, yes. Tonight, I’m too tired to move. I just want to stay right here.”

  Brut lowers his lips to my fingers again. “Of course. We’ll stay right here.” He stands again, reaching down to unlace his boots and then climbs over me, curling around my body.

  “I don’t like sleeping without you,” he murmurs into my neck.

  “I don’t like sleeping without you, either.”

  “Wherever you want to be is where I want to be. I just want to be with you.”

  I feel the same and bring his hand up to my lips, kissing it. He kisses the back of my neck. Then his hand lowers to cover my belly, the expanse of his fingers covering from side to side.

  “She’s okay?”

  “She is.” Brut’s head rolls against the back of mine. I hold my breath for the admonishment I expect from him. Instead, he says something else.

  “I love her.” Tears prickle my eyes, and his fingers lightly press over my belly. Goddammit, no more tears. “I’m not used to saying such things, Lily pad.” He pauses as though he’s trying to tell me something more, hint at something deeper.

  “She loves you, too.” I have no doubt Brut will be an excellent father, and any child will worship him. Chopper already does.

  “If something had happened…” He blows out a breath, warm air tickling my neck. “We’d try again. And again. I’d give you anything, everything you want. I love you, Lily pad.” My heart stops, and my breath hitches. I twist in his arms to look at him over my shoulder.

  “You do?” I still, afraid to break the spell of his words, afraid he’ll realize what he’s said.

  “Of course, sugar.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” I reply, my voice lowering to no more than a whisper as my fingers tighten over his on my belly.

  “What?” Hot breath hits my neck before he shifts and presses me by the shoulder to lie on my back. He peers down at me. “How could you not know?”

  “You never told me,” I admit honestly.

  “Lily.” My name drags out with his exhale. “I loved you when you were nineteen, only I didn’t know how to tell you. And at twenty-four when I saw you in a grocery store, and at thirty-six when you opened the bakery. I’ve never stopped loving you, sugar.”

>   “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why didn’t you come back to me?”

  “And say what? Sorry I slept with your sister? Oh, and guess what, I got her pregnant and now I’m raising the son she abandoned to me. Want to join me? Want to date me?”

  “Yes,” I say, staring at him. He stares back.

  “Lily, come on. That’s not an attractive offer.”

  “But it’s one I’ve been waiting for.” My eyes lower to the collar of his shirt. His fingers tip up my chin.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I was hurt, crushed even, but I loved you.”

  “And now, Lily pad? How do you feel now about me?”

  “I love you even more than I thought possible.” My voice cracks as I bare my soul to him.

  “Let me kiss you,” he says, and I question his asking, but then I remember I told him not to kiss me yesterday.

  “Every day.” The words aren’t even fully out of my mouth before my lips are covered with his. He’s tender, loving, telling me how he feels. He loves me. He wants me. His soft kisses last a few minutes before he pulls back.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay and the baby, too. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you.” His fingers comb through my hair, and the earnest tone of his voice tells me the truth. He means what he says.

  + + +

  I wake alone, but I hear voices in the kitchen below. Brut and I slept in our clothes wrapped around one another. We cuddled. I laugh as I realize for once I did not beg him to take me. I wanted him just to hold me.

  I rise and decide to head downstairs before taking a much-needed shower. The voices disappear as I come through the door Brut insisted on installing to protect the upstairs from the lower level. I search the kitchen to find it empty despite the ingredient containers spread on the island, waiting for today’s baking. I cross the vacant room and enter the bakery itself. It’s early, darkness still filling the space, but the display case is lit. Inside it sits a kid’s plastic purple sand bucket. I look over my shoulders, finding no one else present although I swear I heard voices. I reach for the pail and remove it from the case. A Post-it note on the side reads Fulfill Me.

  I tip the bucket, puzzled at the meaning, until I see a velvet black box inside. My fingers shake as I remove the square. Under the box are seven Scrabble tiles. I set the bucket on top of the display case and hold the jewelry box in my shaky hand. Pulling out the tiles one by one, I try to arrange them on the check-out counter.

  A presence comes up behind me, and I don’t turn, though I know it’s Brut. Manly. Fresh. His scent surrounds me as does his arms. He rearranges the letters.

  Marry me.

  “We are getting married,” I choke, my eyes closing at the sweetness of all he’s arranged here.

  “I fucked up, Lily pad. My beautiful, romance-seeking Lily. Let me ask you properly. Let me give you the wedding you want. A dress. A party. Everything.”

  I shake my head. It’s too much. It’s everything…and beyond.

  “What?” he mutters behind me. “What did I say?”

  “You love me,” I murmur, and Brut spins me to face him.

  “Of course, I love you. I told you las—”

  “But you really mean it.” My eyes roam over his puzzled face. “You really love me. Not just because of the baby. Not because of some scare. You—”

  “I…my God, Lily, is this what’s been wrong?” Brut’s forehead furrows before relaxing. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” His mouth lowers to my forehead, my nose, my lips. Too briefly, my lips. “I loved you when I was twenty-three, and I love you at forty-five.” Brut stares at me, his expression shifting. “Shit, I guess I’ve waited long enough to tell you.”

  I laugh a little, feeling giddy at his words. I reach up for his face and tickle his scruff with my fingertips. “I love you, Brut.”

  “I wanted to marry you way back when, Lily pad, but I wanted to have it all together for you. I wanted it to be perfect. I would have given you babies when you were ready. I wanted to grow old with you, not wait until I was old to have you.”

  “You aren’t old,” I tease. His white hair makes him look distinguished and sexy.

  “Tell me I’m not too late. That’s more important to me. Am I too late to tell you how I feel? Am I too late to ask?”

  My head tilts, and I lift the closed box. Teasingly, I say, “Officially, you haven’t asked anything yet.”

  Brut takes the box from my fingers and lowers to one knee. He opens the case, presenting me with a solitaire diamond on a white gold band. Simple. Classic. Me.

  “Lily pad, love of my life, my heart, my soul, my everything. Will you marry me because I love you? Because I love us.”

  Turning for the tiles on the counter, I pick up three and hold them out to him in my palm.

  Yea. There is no S in this collection of letters. No H either.

  “Say it,” he pleads. “I want to hear it.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Brut’s lips twist into a sexy grin as he stands. He removes the ring from the case and slips it on my finger, kissing over it once it’s settled in place.

  “That might have been my favorite sound of all the sounds you’ve made.”

  40

  A new game

  [Brut]

  Lily and I are getting married, and I couldn’t be more excited. It’s officially happening on New Year’s Day. It’s become a trend, Lily tells me. Start the new year in a positive direction. I’ve waited years for her, so while I still would have rushed to a courthouse, I’m willing to wait a few weeks to begin years of being married to her. It turns out we have friends who married on the same date, and they gave us the idea of a destination wedding. We’ll be married at the beach house in Ocean Beach.

  In the meantime, our new kitchen table has finally arrived in time for Thanksgiving. It’s circular with four chairs, and I’ve decided Lily and I are going to play a game to christen this space.

  “Remember the game four squares as a kid?” I ask her as she comes into the kitchen after a shower.

  “I’m not as old as you, so I don’t,” she teases. I lunge for her, enveloping her in my arms.

  “Very funny, Lily pad.” I nibble at her neck as I wrap around her from behind. “We’re going to play four chairs.”

  “And how does this game work?” I feel the chuckle in her back as she rubs her ass against me. Little does she know, this is exactly how we’ll play.

  “First. I finger fuck you on one chair.”

  “Brut,” she teasingly admonishes, but purrs at the end of my name.

  “Then I’m going to eat you out on the second one.”

  “Oh my,” she mutters, curling her back so her ass finds friction against me. I’m hard as a rock just thinking about what we’ll do, and I haven’t even started. My fingers find the waistband of her leggings and dip inside. Lima Bean will be here in early June, and I can’t wait. We need more girls in this family.

  “We’ll move around the table where you’ll straddle me,” I say, slipping a finger into her and walking her to the first seat. I sit in a manner so that she sits in front of me with my legs on either side of hers. She’s gripping the table, white knuckled as her hips rock, forcing my finger deeper. A second finger joins the first, and Lily groans.

  “Then,” I whisper below her ear, my lips resting on her skin. “You’re going to reverse cowgirl me on the last seat.”

  “Brut,” she screams as I nip her neck at the juncture of her shoulder, and she comes instantly. Lily’s still hyped on pregnancy hormones, and I’m enjoying the side effects. Lifting her by the back of her thighs, I hoist her to the next seat. I remove her leggings and thong in one tug, and she yelps as her bare backside hits the wood seat. Lowering to my knees, I drag her to the edge of the surface and dive in, lapping at her. She’s extra sensitive with the pregnancy and produces more wetness than I remember. I love it. I love her being pregnant. I love her.

  She tugs
at my hair as I devour her, splitting her open with my tongue. She’s close, but I want to feel this one on me, so I pull back.

  “No,” she whimpers as I stand and rush to lower my jeans. I sit on the opposite seat and slip my boxers and jeans from my ankles.

  “Hop on Pop,” I say, patting my lap. Lily releases a snort-laugh, one of her many sounds I adore.

  “You did not just say that.” She shakes her head. “You’re going to ruin this for me.”

  I reach out for her wrist and tug her to me.

  “I promise to make it up to you.” I promise to make up everything, and I’ve told her this with my actions and my words. We had a long talk about what happened when we were young, and I praise all things above for her understanding and forgiveness. I also kick myself for not trusting in her enough to tell her what was happening with me and have the faith she’d stick around until I got my shit together.

  Lily lowers over me, straddling my thighs and the chair. She’s so wet she’s slippery, and I slide in without any effort. The warmth. The depth. This woman is all things to me. I’m inside her body, but she’s inside my soul. She owns my heart, and I want to own hers, giving her everything…and beyond.

  Her eyes flick down to the tattoo. On the day I bought her engagement ring, I inked my skin similar to hers. A small cupcake on my pelvis with a mini-cupcake next to it. It isn’t pink and purple like Lily’s, but it matches her design in black and gray. It represents Lily and Lima Bean, whose tattoo happens to have a lima bean on top instead of a maraschino cherry.

  Holding the back of the chair, Lily rocks her hips over me, holding me within as she rolls forward. We move in a rhythmic manner. I grip her hips but let Lily lead this dance. She’s getting into it—her head falling back and then forward. She’s going to come again, and I marvel at the miracle of her joined with me. My thumb slips down to tease her where she needs, pleasuring her until she makes another of my favorite noises.