Endorsed

by Marni Mann

  He wanted my daughter.

  He wanted me.

  He wanted us.

  I was getting everything I’d dreamed about, and I couldn’t hold it together. There were tears, spit, and even snot.

  I was a mess.

  But he looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  He squeezed me harder and said, “Samantha, come to me.”

  I felt myself moving.

  I saw the distance between us close.

  I heard his breathing as his body was suddenly pressed against mine.

  “It’s your turn to tell me what you want.”

  Since I’d left his condo, I’d only thought the worst. My mind had returned to the pain I’d felt eight years ago, and I’d begun to go through it again until all of that changed a few minutes ago.

  “You,” I whispered through tears, several of them falling over my mouth. “Just you and Lucy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  He lifted my chin, so I was now looking at him. “I want to kiss you.” He exhaled, and I smelled the spiciness of his cologne. “But, because Lucy is in this apartment, I’m asking for your permission.”

  He’d kept every promise he’d made when he called me from downstairs.

  My lids shut, and I felt more wetness on my face. I took a breath and opened my eyes again. “Kiss me, Jack. Please. Make all the pain go away.”

  His lips didn’t smash against mine, nor did he grip me with the kind of power that he normally used. Instead, he was gentle, completely in tune with what I needed, giving me the softness I craved from him tonight.

  His tongue teased mine, his hands rising until he finally cupped my cheeks, swiping the tears with his thumbs. Then, he used his palms to wipe the rest of it, eventually pulling away to press his nose into mine.

  He breathed.

  My eyes stayed closed as I was filled with his scent again.

  “Her first word was cat,” I told him, my bottom lip starting to quiver even harder.

  “Cat,” he repeated, as though he were trying to hear her voice. He kissed down my neck and stopped underneath my chin. “Because you had one?”

  “No.” His mouth felt so amazingly good, it was hard to hold in the moans, yet there were still tears, plenty of them, streaming down the sides of my face. “Her favorite book had a cat in it, and I read it to her every day.”

  “Samantha…” He continued to kiss my neck until he reached the other side where he went up to my cheek and stilled. “Let them fall, baby. I’ll lick every one.”

  It was too much—his tenderness, his touch.

  His love.

  His tongue flattened, and he swiped up several. Then, his hands held my head back, and I felt his lips press against my collarbone and gradually work up until he reached my mouth. “I want to make love to you.”

  Since Lucy was born, I’d felt him inside my apartment. Every time I gazed into my daughter’s eyes, it was like staring directly into his.

  And, now, he was here.

  In my bedroom.

  He wanted me, and I wanted him.

  I’d heard everything he’d said to me, but I needed to feel those words. I needed his touch to make me whole again.

  “Jack,” I said, tasting a tear as it fell onto my tongue, “I need you.”

  He dropped to my chest, caressing and licking the spots not hidden under my tank top.

  When I finally looked down, my eyes connected with his. Goose bumps spread across my body as he breathed into my skin.

  “Her favorite color is blue.”

  He breathed again. Deeper this time. “Titans blue?”

  “Yes, that exact one for that exact reason.”

  His hands went to my ass, and he lifted me into the air, wrapped me around his waist, and carried me to the bed. He placed me in the middle of it.

  With my lips still on his, I said, “Her favorite food to eat is Italian.”

  “Just like her mom.”

  As he kissed me, he took off my tank and pulled down my shorts. I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. The only thing that covered any part of me was my glasses that shielded my eyes.

  If I took those off, I wouldn’t be able to see him.

  He tossed his polo shirt onto the floor, finally showing me the body I’d been thinking about since I last ran my hands over it. He had broad, muscular shoulders and a well-defined chest that sprouted a thin layer of dark hair. A set of abs followed, each one indented and outlined, and toward the bottom of his torso, a V cut across his sides and disappeared under his waist.

  He was perfection.

  Once his shorts were off, he pulled a condom out of his wallet and climbed back over me. When he kissed me, it was so soft. A subtle touch of his lips. The gentle brushing of his skin on mine.

  I felt him place the foil in my hand, and then his mouth went to my chest, moving across each breast. He spent much more time with my nipples, grazing those with his teeth, sucking them against his tongue.

  “She was born at three ten in the morning,” I said as he went across my navel. “And Anna, my best friend, was in the delivery room with me.”

  He kissed the very bottom of my stomach. He kissed the center. He kissed over the right side and left, covering the entire section where Lucy had lived.

  My tears leaked onto the comforter, and I said, “Jack, I was huge when I was pregnant with her.”

  “But I bet you were beautiful. I wish I could have seen you.”

  He moved in between my legs, spreading them apart, resting them over his shoulders. Then, his lips pressed against the top of each thigh, going as far as my knees and back up, never getting near my folds. He was taking his time. Tasting, loving. And I was taking in every kiss that he pressed against my body, letting them fuel my emotions, the tears falling even more freely.

  Slowly, he moved closer, and I was ready for it. He licked around my lips, pointing his tongue as he rose through the center, eventually flicking the spot at the very top that I liked him to touch the most.

  The pleasure spread across my throat and to my breasts and throughout my whole stomach.

  My body was melting from him.

  And, with every swipe of his tongue, I released a little bit more of the heaviness that had been weighing me down for so long.

  With every press of his lips, I felt us moving past the anger.

  Because of that, I could start forgiving myself.

  Suddenly, my body was more sensitive than it had ever been.

  So, when he slipped his face away and his beard scraped my inner thighs, I groaned so loudly.

  “Someone’s not being quiet,” he said.

  I gripped the blanket between my fingers, wiping the wetness from my cheeks. “I’ve just missed you so much, Jack.”

  “Baby…” he said so softly again.

  He continued to feast until I tugged his locks so hard, he was forced to work his way back up, his beard tracing the path on my skin. When he reached my chest, his hand went to my face, and it rubbed in the droplets that had fallen in the last few seconds.

  He was healing me with his body, the same way I wanted to heal him with my words.

  I had to give him more.

  I had to give him the moments he’d missed.

  I nuzzled my face into his hand and said, “Her favorite sport is swimming.”

  “Swimming?” he said as though he were surprised. “I can’t do anything with swimming.” He smiled, and it was so beautiful. “Maybe I can get her a full scholarship, but the potential of going pro is—”

  “She’s seven.”

  “We need to start her young.”

  I laughed through more tears.

  His mouth went to mine, and he turned us, so he was sitting by the pillows with his back against the headboard, and I was kneeling in front of him.

  He nodded toward the condom, so I ripped the corner of the packet and pulled it out. I positioned it over his tip and rolled it down until the latex reached his base. Then, I c
limbed on top of him, slowly working him into me.

  He was holding my face steady, his thumb on my lips, so he could feel every exhale that came out of my mouth.

  The words I was about to say would vibrate over the pad of his finger.

  They would hit him the hardest out of everything I’d told him so far.

  I closed my eyes, I slowed my movements, and then I connected our stare. “Her full name is Lucy Jacklyn Cole.”

  He looked at me with so much adoration in his eyes. “Jacklyn?” he whispered. At first, it sounded like a question, but then his expression told me it had sunk in, hitting him the way I thought it would.

  He wrapped me up in his arms, holding me so tightly, and the both of us started trembling.

  “Jack, I—”

  “I am, too.”

  My mouth crashed into his, and I breathed him in as I moaned.

  He made the same noise, holding my cheeks like he couldn’t let go, and I knew we were coming together.

  When we finally stilled, when it was only our panting that filled the silence, we were still clinging to each other. Our hands and our mouths were so desperate to be close.

  “One last question,” he said, each syllable tickling my face as his nose leaned into mine.

  I pulled back a few inches to get a better look at him before I placed my hand on his beard. He gave quick, tender pecks to the sides of my fingers, and then his eyes closed just briefly. When they opened again, they were full of tears.

  “Do you think she’ll love me?”

  A sweet sigh escaped my lips, water pouring from my own lids.

  My heart was so full of love for this man.

  I ran my hand under his eyes, catching each drip before they fell. Then, I leaned my face into the side of his, hugging him with everything I had, and I whispered, “How could she not?”

  28

  Jack

  Me: I listened to all of your advice, and I went over to Samantha’s place tonight.

  Brett: Did you meet Lucy?

  Scarlett: That’s exactly what I was just going to ask.

  Me: She was sleeping. It’s better that she was. I wasn’t ready to tackle both girls in the same night. First, I needed to smooth things out with Samantha. The plan is to meet Lucy on Saturday.

  Max: How smooth did you make things with her?

  Me: I want to be with her, and I told her.

  Brett: And?

  Me: And she didn’t kick me out. Well, shit, she eventually did because she didn’t want Lucy to wake up in the morning and see me in her mom’s bed. We didn’t think that would be the best introduction.

  Scarlett: I’m proud of you. I’m proud of her. Now, I think I speak for all of us when I say, we want to meet Samantha and this gorgeous niece of ours whose eyes I’m going to eat up.

  Me: Samantha first. Lucy will come soon, but she needs to get used to me before she meets all of you. Let’s get together—James, Eve, and Vince, too.

  Max: Eve is coming to Miami next week. Pretty sure she’s flying with James.

  Scarlett: I’ll talk to Vince, but I’m certain we can make something work for next week.

  Brett: I’m so fucking happy for you, brother. Long time coming. This girl’s the right one.

  Scarlett: I second that.

  Max: Third.

  Me: Much appreciated. I’ll see you guys when you get back. And, Scarlett, I’ll be in the office tomorrow. I don’t need any more time off.

  29

  Jack

  “Jack Hunt,” I said to the doorman as I reached the front entrance. “I should be on the list to see Samantha Cole.”

  He checked his tablet, and then he opened the door for me. “Do you know her unit number?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I replied over my shoulder as I walked in and went over to the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor.

  I’d been thinking about this elevator ride for the last few days. How it would feel when I reached her hallway, when I knocked on her door, and when she let me in.

  That was because I wasn’t just meeting my daughter today. Samantha and I were also going to tell her that I was her father.

  Since I’d left here a few nights ago, Samantha and I had been talking several times a day, and we’d weighed every option. She went back and forth on what would be best. She asked friends. She consulted with Lucy’s pediatrician. What she decided was to assess how the day was going. If things were all right, we’d tell her.

  I couldn’t describe what was happening inside my body.

  I just knew I was standing inside the elevator, staring at the numbers above the door, waiting for the goddamn thing to slide open. I knew my hands didn’t feel comfortable hanging at my sides or in my pockets or resting on my biceps as I crossed my arms.

  As I shifted between my feet, the number six lit up.

  The elevator stopped.

  The door opened.

  My eyes dropped down, catching the piece of art that hung on the wall across from me.

  I inhaled, and I let the air sit in my lungs for a few seconds before I blew it out.

  This wasn’t a meeting about endorsements. This wasn’t a negotiation. I wasn’t going to be sitting across the desk from a CEO or a professional athlete or a marketing team.

  This decision-maker was probably going to be the most observant and intuitive one I’d ever met.

  And she was only seven years old.

  I left my confidence in the elevator, and then I made my way down the hall, halting when I reached her apartment. I knocked gently, and my hand moved to my side again. It felt misplaced, so I hooked it into my back pocket.

  A few seconds passed before I heard the click of a lock and the twisting of the handle. As the door swung open, I expected my gaze to fall on Samantha’s gorgeous face.

  But her eyes weren’t the ones looking back at me.

  The ones I stared into were identical to mine.

  Blue.

  Sharp.

  And so fucking bright.

  “Lucy,” I heard myself whisper.

  She was a tiny little girl, wearing a pink dress, with long, dark hair like her mother’s and full lips and a small nose.

  Her smile was like mine.

  The dimple on her left cheek—Jesus, she had gotten that from me, too.

  “You must be the Mr. Jack Mom says is coming to hang out with us today.”

  Her voice.

  It was a little high-pitched and soft at the same time and so goddamn sweet.

  “I am.”

  “Then, it’s fancy to meet you, Mr. Jack.”

  She stuck her hand toward me, and I saw the blue polish on her nails and what appeared to be flour on a few of her knuckles.

  I delicately gripped her fingers. “It’s pretty fancy to meet you, too, Lucy.”

  Lucy.

  My daughter.

  “Mom’s taking cookies out of the oven. She says I’m too young to do that, so we’re on decorating duty.” She waved her hand in the air, as if she were welcoming me inside their apartment. “Would you like to decorate cookies with me and my mom?”

  I didn’t tell her that I never had.

  Because it didn’t even matter.

  Right now, I would do anything that little girl asked.

  “I would love to,” I answered.

  Her bare feet patted on the floor as she skipped into the kitchen. “Mom, Mr. Jack’s here. He wants to decorate cookies with us.”

  Samantha was standing in front of the open oven, reaching inside to pull out a cookie sheet. She gazed at me as I stood in the entryway and mouthed, Sorry.

  I was sure she was apologizing for not answering the door. As it turned out, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  “Hey,” I said and leaned into the wall, glancing from her to Lucy.

  She set the cookie sheet on the counter and took the mitts off her hands. “Hi.” With her eyes locked on mine, she said, “Lucy, did you introduce yourself to Mr. Jack?”

&nbs
p; “Yes, Mommy. We’re already friends.”

  I laughed, surprised by Lucy’s response.

  “Is that so?” Samantha inquired.

  “Yeppers.” Lucy came over to where I stood and put her fingers on my arm, tugging me deeper into the kitchen. “First, we wash your hands.” She took me to the sink and turned on the water, picking up the bottle of soap and squirting some onto my palm. “Lots of soap. That’s what Mom says.”

  I rubbed my hands together, and then I held them under the faucet, feeling Lucy’s eyes on me, positive that Samantha was watching me from behind.

  “Done,” I said, showing her my clean but very wet hands.

  She handed me a dishcloth. “Yay, let’s decorate,” she squealed.

  I smiled as I dried my fingers and followed her to the island. I’d been so focused on my daughter that I hadn’t paid attention to what was in all the bowls on the counter. There was frosting in several colors and different kinds of sprinkles and candies.

  “This is my favorite part.” She lifted a cookie off the rack and placed it in front of her.

  I watched as she spread the icing over the top with the precision of a surgeon. Her little tongue poked out as she carefully scattered the sprinkles.

  She had marvel in her eyes, scanning the cookie all over, and when her masterpiece was complete, she declared, “It’s done.” She took another, placing this one in front of her, too. “I’m going to do a blue one now.” She looked at me. “Mom says we can send some to Uncle Shawn ’cause he loves my cookies, and blue is also his favorite color.”

  “Lucy,” Samantha said, placing more on the rack, ones that she’d just taken out of the oven, “do you know that Mr. Jack works with Uncle Shawn? He’s his agent, which means he helps Uncle Shawn get deals with companies that want to work with him.”

  She glanced up from the frosting, her mouth open in awe. “Like the camera one?”

  “Yes,” I told her. “Just like the camera one.”

  “That’s sooo cool.”

  Samantha’s cell started ringing from the other side of the kitchen. She hurried over to it, lifted it into her hand, and stared at the screen. “Jack, I have to take this.”