Forever Us

by C C Monroe

“You got that right. Kingston is such a massive thing, just like his dad,” she refers to Tom, and I see a little sparkle in her eye. I don’t want to say anything to her about it, but I’m convinced they have something going on. Besides the obvious flirtation, they have been spending a lot of time together, especially before Kathy made the move from Portland to Seattle.

  Tom said he is thinking of getting a place closer, and it all just seems a little—plotted. I don’t know how Trey, Shay, or Kings would take it. Especially Trey. That’s his mom, and he just lost his dad not even two years ago. Hell, maybe I’m overthinking this and they are just looking for friendship in their lonely state.

  “But anyway, we are having a barbecue at our place this weekend. My parents will be in town and we would love to have you there.”

  Clapping her hands in excitement, she nods. “I would love that. I’m getting a little bit of cabin fever in this place.” As she gestures to her blue cottage style home with white shutters, I agree with her.

  “I know the feeling. I was like that for the first six months with Prince. Getting back to work has helped a ton.”

  I see the pride dance across her rosy cheeks as she reaches to rub my arm adoringly. “I’m so happy to see you getting back out there. Shayla was really worried. She cried to Trey and me a few times about it. She missed you.”

  I feel the sting of guilt prick at me, but it quickly passes, because Dr. Moore has told me not to dwell on the past. It’s better to change and fix my future, and with each passing day, I am doing just that. Mending fences, patching up holes I caused in people’s hearts, and nursing myself back to health.

  “I missed her too. We’ve been having a great time together, getting back into the swing of things.”

  “So she says, but any-who, I won’t keep you long. Who wants to spend all afternoon talking to the kooky grandma when you have this cute little monkey to hang out with?” Leaning in, she alters her voice to sound comical, and I chuckle.

  “We love talking to Gam-Gam Kathy, huh, big boy?” I bounce him on my hip and admire his face as he beams with a smile. “Yeah, that’s Gam-Gam, huh?” Kathy and I both chuckle as he lets out a guttural laugh.

  “All right, I’m gonna head out. But I will see you Saturday. Thanks for watching Prince! Love you, Mama Kathy.” We say our goodbyes and I get Prince settled in the back of my Jeep. I’m ready to get home and spend some time with him and Kings.

  I stir the pasta and add some peppers to the meat, cooking dinner as Prince makes little noises in his sleep next to me in his portable crib. Kingston let me know he was going to run to the gym before coming home, and I want to have dinner ready.

  I’m humming along to some light, low music of The Roes coming from our kitchen sound system, when my phone chimes. Placing the spatula down, I pick up my cell and see a message request waiting for me on Facebook. Without thinking, I open the app and go straight for the message. When Hilary’s name shows, my blood instantly boils and my hair stands on end.

  Hey, just thought you should know Kingston and I are talking again and I feel like it’s the womanly thing to do to let you know. Sorry, but I can’t help how I feel and how we feel about each other.

  I roll my eyes at how delusional this girl is—yes, not woman, girl, because that’s how she is acting. I saw the messages, and Kingston and I worked through it. I know for a fact he has cut off contact with her, and this is just a failed attempt to try and hurt me. Some people just don’t know how to let go of high school. I debate not saying anything. The better, mature part of me is screaming not to, but the same girl willing to stoop to her level for a hot second is overtaking me.

  I see you haven’t changed. I know about the messages and your attempt to get Kingston back. Sorry, it didn’t work, and I really feel bad that you had to send such nasty, desperate pictures to him in hopes it would get his attention. I will only say this once, so listen good and well. He and I are happy and you need to move on. Stay the hell away from Kingston, Hilary. I’m serious.

  I put the phone down, assuming that’s the end of it as I stew on it more. I can’t believe she is trying to talk to me and convince me otherwise. I saw the last message Kingston sent to her, and it was hands down the biggest subliminal “fuck you” message, in more eloquent words.

  I was jealous, over-the-top possessive when I saw those messages, and believe me, they hurt, but I have to trust Kingston, and I made a choice to forgive him for simply talking to her. It was not innocent on her part, but he didn’t take the bait, and for that I trust him and I forgive him. My phone dings again, and I add an annoyed growl to this one.

  Oh honey, is that what you think? Is someone still insecure with herself? I’m sorry that I was trying to follow girl code and respect you, but you must have not seen our private text and heard our late night calls while you made him sleep on the couch. If you only knew the things he said he wanted to do to me. How you couldn’t please him, how you’ve gained weight and your body isn’t like it used to be. It’s not my fault he wasn’t happy and had to step out to find better. But you can keep playing delusional house with Kingston until he admits how it really is with me and then leaves you and that accident baby behind. So sorry you don’t make the cut anymore, Lana. Guess the men in your life ALWAYS come to me to find better.

  My fist grips the phone violently and my body begins to shake with tremors, and not the kind when your hurt, but more the kind when you have so much rage and nothing to take it out on. It’s one thing to put me down and ridicule me, but when you threaten my love, Kingston, and talk ill of our child, I cannot contain nor stop from losing any bit of restraint I have.

  Almost leaving my body, I close my eyes and relax my shoulders, reigning myself in.

  You stay the hell away from my family, Kingston included. He and I are happy, and you are nothing but a sad, lonely, desperate home wrecker. Get a life, Hilary, and stop trying to whorishly live mine. I will not warn you again.

  No need to. You’ll regret that, you jealous bitch.

  Doubtful.

  Without another word, I block her from my account and take a minute to calm myself down. She really has no shame. None whatsoever. What kind of woman holds on that long? What is she really hoping to get out of this? Better yet, she has no idea who Kingston is anymore. He is not the young guy she was in love with. He’s a father, a business owner...a taken man. How can she claim to still want him when she doesn’t even know who he is anymore? It’s like loving someone you never knew.

  My thoughts trail away and I start to feel what feels like...remorse. I get it; I would hold on that long too. For years, we did hold onto each other. We still are, so I guess it makes sense. A woman holds on that long when the man is worth grasping onto forever, and that is my Kings.

  But regardless, she didn’t need to go about it that way. She should have listened to Kingston, accepted there is nothing there, and bowed out, save her self-respect. But I guess home wreckers will always prey on the innocent to exist.

  “Lana? What’s going on?” Kingston’s voice surprises me, catching me off guard as I bring my hand to my chest.

  He’s next to me, his gym shirt still stained with his sweat and his beloved snapback covering his curly head of hair. Running his hands up and down my back, he locks eyes on me, his face looking uneasy.

  “Oh, nothing, I just got lost in thought. That’s all.”

  “Okay, with what?” He pulls on my hip and drags me into him.

  “It’s really nothing. Don’t worry.” I want to avoid a fight that we have already fought and overcome. I forgave him, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin this streak of calm waters.

  “No, don’t do that.” He sees right through me. “Talk to me. We agreed to always communicate. Come on, baby.”

  Closing my eyes and taking one long breath, I release the negative and reserve the calm in me.

  “Hilary messaged me and just said some things that really bothered me. That’s all.”

  “Wait,
what?” Looking surprised, he turns my body to face him.

  “Yeah, she did. I just don’t feel like talking about it. Can we drop it?”

  Kingston doesn’t let me off the hook that easy. “No, what did she say? You know what? I’m gonna message her and tell her to fuck off.”

  “No!” I blurt out, stopping him. If he does that, then she’ll know it affected me, and then she will have the attention of Kingston, which is the opposite of what I want.

  “Lana, she needs to back the fuck off, and believe me when I say there is nothing going on between us. There never was.”

  “I know.”

  “Besides, you know I love you and we have worked on this— Wait, what?” His face reads as shocked, and I smirk. “Did you just say you believe me?”

  The old me wouldn’t have—the Lana who believed everyone and everything was just a means to a letdown.

  “Yes.” I put my hand on his chest, tilt my head, and bring my body into him. “Don’t look so scandalized. We are working on us, and I made a choice to forgive you and believe you.” I chuckle a bit over the fact he looks so aghast.

  “This feels weird,” he admits with a similar humorous noise.

  “We are weird, but I’d rather choose to believe you than her.”

  “You should. I don’t fucking want her, Lana. I swear I don’t.”

  “Stop.” I lean up and kiss his jaw, now freshly shaven as of yesterday. “It’s in the past, and I don’t want her to get what she wants, and that’s you thinking about her, talking about her, or even whispering her name. She’s nothing to us.” I bring his hand to my stomach and look over at a sleeping Prince. Kings’s eyes drift lazily from my stomach to the crib.

  “You’re right. And once you feed your king and our little royalty, I’m gonna kick off my boots and love on my lady all night. How’s that sound?” In true Kingston Troy Donovan fashion, he erases her from the equation, further sealing my faith in trusting him.

  They say in life you really only ever have yourself, but that lie was made by someone who never had Kingston. Who needs only the love of oneself when you can have the entire heart and soul of Kingston, when you can have his love and every single ounce of his substance?

  “I want nothing more than to be lost with you tonight.” I melt into him more, molding my body to the contours of his.

  “Let’s run away then, get fucking lost forever.” With a wisp of a touch, he cradles my face and kisses me with a wanderlust feel. Like it will take us away, with a promise of new places and more journeys. “How about this?” Reaching around, he takes two handfuls of my ass and thrusts me into him, my feet lifting and leaving the ground. “You make the plates. I will go upstairs and run you a bath. Then I will eat, and then feed Prince and get him to bed. After that, I will come in the room and we will start our long night of reconnecting in that bathtub. How about all that?” Kingston bites my dimpled cheek, causing a whimper to strangle itself from my lips, his cock growing against my stomach.

  “Mmhm. That sounds incredible.”

  “Good, now finish my meal, woman, while I draw you a bath.” With a brisk kiss, he sets me down and slaps my ass.

  “Woman? Hmm, you must not want a blowjob tonight.”

  He almost clears the kitchen before turning back and quickly walking back to me, bent at his hips like a lion catching his prey. “Oh hush, you little shit.” Biting my neck and tickling me with his hardly-there scruff, it makes me sound off with a throaty laugh, forgetting the loud sound of our playing would wake up Prince. He stirs in his popup crib and tosses about for one of us to tend to him.

  “Oops.”

  “I guess he’s coming with me. I’ll watch him while you finish up.” Kingston moseys over to him and collects him into his arms, planting a gentle kiss on his head of hair.

  “Sounds good.” We share one more wink, something we do often, but still the tiny action gives me butterflies.

  Lana’s parents are coming into town this week, and I’ve been working on my manners and practicing ways to zip my trap. I don’t necessarily hate Jeffery; it’s just not always a cakewalk when he and I are around each other. Bickering, little glares when we pass, “Lana loves me more than you” battles hidden under plain-as-day insults—it’s always a trip.

  Lana and I decided this trip would be the opportune moment to announce our second pregnancy. She went to the doctor last week, and she is officially nine weeks. I’ve been up her ass and around the corner, being all over her when I get the chance, and tonight will be no different. I plan to spend our last night in our empty house, getting inside her, not just physically but mentally. Caress her with my look, penetrate her mind with my words, and stroke her gently with praise before I even start with my hands.

  Princeton is having his first sleepover with my sister and Trey tonight, on Lana’s choice, which was shocking to all of us. Lana has been going to therapy once with me and once on her own every week, trying to get ahead of the postpartum. She tells me she and the therapist discuss Joel a lot more in their private sessions, which could have offended me, but she is more forthcoming about it when we are alone, so I sit back and let Dr. Moore continue to work her magic.

  Lighting the candles around the bed to set the ambiance of romance, I step back and check out my masterpiece. It’s no work of Van Gogh, but I think it will be enough to sweep L off her feet. I’m a big goon, and I don’t have a clue how to be deep and shit, but Lana does. It’s something I want to delve into, a side of us I have yet to breach, and tonight is when I want to start.

  She is due home from the boutique any second, and my work is almost done, all but the music. Walking over to the cherry wood entertainment center in our bedroom, I open the glass door and start up the sound system.

  First, I try classical, but that shit seems overdone and cheesy, like a soundtrack to every romantic comedy Lana has forced me to watch. Then I try country, and it feels like I should be lying her down on a bale of hay and making her ride me like a ‘stang, That was our last Saturday night; I need something fresh.

  “Fuck.” My hands start to shake and sweat, trembling as I play with the dial.

  “You could just let us be the music.” Lana catches me in a state of despair.

  “Shit, Lana, I didn’t hear you come in.” She stands there looking stunning like always, nearly knocking me on my ass in her tight jeans, silk tank top, and a curly ponytail winding down between her slim shoulder blades.

  “This is beautiful, Kings.” Taking little steps with the daintiest fucking feet tipped in dark polish, she makes her journey to me. I feel inadequate for a few brief seconds before I really get a better look at her face as she closes in on me. Her attendance becomes more aware in this room as her tiny form somehow overpowers the six-foot wall of muscle that is me. She’s wearing a beholden look on her perfect, round face, the light showing off her deep dimples as she slightly smirks at me.

  Once toe-to-toe, I still manage to find no words, caught in a moment where she is the one sweeping me off my feet just by her fragile aura. I pay close attention as her hands travel up my shirtless torso, making a detour stop on each tattoo with a trace of her fingertip. I swallow, watching her as she follows her hands up my chest and around the tops of my defined shoulders to the back of my neck.

  Her chilly hand cools the burn of my hot skin and her body lifts. Standing on her tiptoes, she closes the gap between us and her soft hits my hard. “You did this all for me?”

  Nodding, I mentally scold myself. What the fuck? Why can’t I say shit? How did this become about me, and her rendering me speechless? Dry swallowing, I croak out a pathetic, deep “Yes.”

  “Kingston, you’re on fire. Are you nervous?” Sympathetically, she worries about me, placing her free hand above my heartbeat raging against my sternum, trying to break free. Holy hell, she’s owning me like she always does, and like every other time, I don’t even stand a chance of claiming the token of ownership, because she holds all the cards just by simply fucking exi
sting in my world.

  A woman with the smallest of everything—small hands, tiny feet, little dimples, slim body—who I could wrap my arms around twice, meeting the middle of my chest at full height, holds the greatest power over the greatest giant she’s ever faced. This knowledge and realization has officially given me the title of an alpha. A man completely lost in a woman who he would lay his life down for and fight every war without an army just so he can prove his worthiness to his queen.

  “Baby, what’s going on?” The way her brows draw in and she looks all kinds of concerned messes with me.

  “I wanted to sweep you off your feet, but you are already a step ahead of me.” I chase my thoughts, trying to regain some control.

  “Oh, handsome, trust me. I think my legs stopped working, since you carry me through the day. You’ve been sweeping me off my feet since we were kids,” she admits, and I all but Tarzan-call. My hands set into motion, and I latch on to her curvy feminine form, gripping at the indent of her sides, where her small waist fuels my alpha.

  “You are so fucking small, delicate. Fuck, I want you. Do you want me, baby?” I know she does, but I want to hear it leave her pouty lips.

  “All day, every day. I will never not want you, even in my sleep.”

  “Show me,” I tell her, reaching one hand between us, and with little effort, I undo her jeans.

  Stepping back a few paces, her eyes stay lazy, opening and closing by way of pure arousal. We use our eyes and that familiar bond we have to connect. Like I said, I want to caress her with my gaze first, and I do.

  Removing her jeans without losing eye contact, I let mine travel the length of her defined legs, up to the bottom of the silky loose top that hides the rest of her from me. With a slight, effortless movement, she removes the top from her body and stays standing bare to me, naked in her beauty. Small breasts, with rosy tips hardening with my stare, a lean stomach with a small freckle just under her left breast. Her beautiful scar fading with more years of tender touches from me.