by Tia Louise
“Come, Melissa.” It’s a low order I don’t need.
I’m riding him as the pleasure lifts me out of myself. A quivering little wail comes from me as he clutches my thighs so hard, I’m sure he’ll leave a mark. We ride our orgasm to the end, moaning and trembling, then holding each other, breathing hard.
“I love you so much,” he exhales against my skin, yet even in the sparkling afterglow, that tone is still in his voice.
My chest clenches. I don’t understand. “I love you more,” I whisper back, stealing his usual line as I tighten my grip on him.
He doesn’t speak. His arms never loosen their hold. His lips touch the back of my neck, followed by the scratch of his beard. Derek’s arms are always a safe place for me—they have been since our first night in the desert. He’s sexy, wildly passionate, and deeply safe, the most erotic combination my guarded heart could desire. Whatever’s bothering him, I know we can fix it. Our love hasn’t changed. The thought comforts me as I drift to sleep again.
Sometime before dawn, my eyes open and he’s still holding me. My back is against his chest, and I’m tight in the confines of his strong arms as if I might slip away while he sleeps. I’ve become so used to it, I practically have to relearn how to sleep alone when he travels, which is rare nowadays.
A more insistent squeal from Dex brings me back to the present. It’s time to start the day. Dragging myself out of bed and staggering down the hall, I catch a glimpse of my fiancé in the kitchen already dressed and talking on his cell. His brow is lined, and I can tell we’re back to where we left off. With a sigh, I enter our son’s room.
He’s standing in his crib, holding the side. When he sees me, his blue eyes sparkle and he starts to jump. My worries about his daddy fly away, and I can’t help laughing.
“Good morning, pumpkin,” I coo, lifting him over the rail. His legs pump against my waist as he struggles to get down, out of my arms. “You want to walk, big boy?”
A week short of his first birthday, and he’s already tearing through the house. We’ve had to move all small items to the top shelves in every room as his favorite thing is pulling whatever he can reach down on his head.
“I can drive to Raleigh if I need to.” Derek’s voice is low as he speaks into his cell. That makes my brow crease. Raleigh hasn’t come up in more than a year.
When he sees me, he smiles, but it’s not his usual flood of appreciation at my presence. It’s that tight smile, the one accompanying his subtle mood-swings. He gets an impatient smile from me in response.
“We can talk more at the office. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He disconnects and walks over to pull me into a hug. “Sorry I was late last night. I hope I made it up to you.”
I press my nose against his chest and inhale the warm, slightly woodsy scent I’ve come to associate with the greatest love of my life. I feel him kiss the top of my head. “Still working on the Nikki situation?” I ask.
Releasing me, he picks up a leather portfolio and grabs his keys. “I’m heading to the office to meet Patrick and talk to Stuart. Are you working today?”
“Later,” I say, walking to the coffee maker. I drop in a small, plastic pod, slide my mug in place, and hit the button. “Elaine and I are taking the boys to do their fittings this morning.”
His expression is confused, and I’m ready to have it out with him. I knew he hadn’t been listening to me on our drive home yesterday. “Their tuxes? For our wedding?”
“Oh, right.” He steps back to me and kisses my forehead before heading to the door. “Don’t let Dex knock over the mannequins.”
I give him a little growl, but his comment still makes me smile. Our toddler is a menace to anything in his grabbing space. Derek’s gone, so I grab a baby breakfast bar and a sippy cup of milk. Dex is in front of the flat-screen television attempting to turn it on when I return to the living room.
“Come on, little man, I’ll put on your show.” Scooping him up, I deposit him in the pack and play in my bedroom, pulling up his show on the Internet television. “Be sweet while Mommy showers!”
My shower is fast, and I listen for any changes in the bedroom as I step into jeans and pull on a loose, charcoal tee. I tie my hair in a low, side ponytail, and drop a few necklaces over my head as I step into black ankle boots.
Running down the hall, I stop at Dex’s room and grab his little jeans, long-sleeved polo, and an extra diaper. He can still wear the cowboy boots we bought him for Elaine’s Christmas wedding in Montana. He wasn’t walking yet, and we intentionally bought them a few sizes too big. He’s adorable in them.
When I return to the room, he’s engrossed in his favorite train show, and just like a little man, he doesn’t even look at me when I enter. “Okay, mister. Time to get dressed.”
“May, tank,” he says, twisting and pointing over my shoulder as I scoop him up and carry him to the living room.
“Yes!” I nod. “A blue tank.”
Flipping on the flat screen, I’m about to sit when I hear banging on my back door. “Guess who it is, Dexy? It’s Aunt Elaine and Laney!”
That sends him wiggling again, and I let him down, following him to where they’re smiling and waving at the back glass. Shouts and squeals fill the kitchen as the boys greet each other and my best friend and I hug.
“I tell you,” Elaine says, stripping off her coat and dropping it on the back of a kitchen chair, “After how cute they were in my wedding, I can’t even imagine how they’ll look surrounded by the guys in their dress whites.”
“Blues,” I correct. “Derek told me in spring it’s blues.”
“Are you sure about that?” Elaine has a sour straw hanging out of her mouth. “I think you have it backwards.”
“Hell, you’re probably right. I’ll have to double-check. Properly addressing the invitations was enough to drive me crazy.”
She follows me into the living room where Lane is sitting in front of the television making engine noises as he moves his ever-present truck back and forth across the rug.
Dex is parked in his tiny leather armchair with matching ottoman—identical to his daddy’s right behind it. Love spills through my veins as I pause to study his baby profile. He looks so much like Derek.
“So? How was the weekend getaway?” Elaine drops onto the couch.
“It started out amazing, but then...” I’m trying to figure out how to end that sentence when she cuts in.
“Stop! Don’t say you had a fight. I’ll lose all my faith in happily ever after!”
“You’re so freaking dramatic.” I flop on the couch beside her. “Give me a sour straw.”
“Am I the worst mother or what?” She digs in her purse and pulls out two—one for me, and another for her. “Lane loves these things, and I’m completely addicted.”
That makes me laugh. “I’m sure you only give him one a day.”
“It’s true! But only because I’ve eaten all the rest!” She falls back on the couch, a fresh straw hanging from the side of her mouth. “I’m going to get a cavity, I can feel it.”
“What does Kenny think?” Lane’s birth mother, a young artist Patrick was involved with briefly before he met Elaine, keeps their two-year old one weekend a month.
After a rocky beginning, she and my bestie bonded last fall over a situation involving Kenny’s boyfriend Slayde. Kenny is also how Stuart met Mariska—in a crazy twist of love and fate.
“She’s the one who started it! He came back from Bayville demanding sour straws and Coke floats.”
“Oh, wow. Coke floats.” I try to remember the last time I had that creamy, bubbly deliciousness. “So old-school, and so good.”
A sharp kick to my thigh makes me yelp. “I’m trying not to gain a hundred pounds! I’m convinced Kenny has a worm. It’s impossible she can stay that skinny with all the crap she eats.”
“She’s a fitness instructor,” I snort laughing. “A worm. You sound like my grandma!”
“I’m not lying. She eats the
worst shit!”
Lane’s towhead pops up at once. “Mommy, bad word!”
“Good grief.” My friend flops back against the couch. “Don’t tell daddy.”
Lane goes back to engine noises, and I chew on my sour straw. “I thought Kenny was lactose intolerant.”
“Goat’s milk doesn’t bother her. It’s been life changing, apparently. She eats goat ice cream and chévre nonstop now.” I exhale a little laugh, and Lainey’s green eyes blink to me. “So what the heck could’ve spoiled your romantic getaway?”
Leaning beside her on the sofa, I straighten my legs and rest my heels on the coffee table next to hers. “I’m probably overreacting.”
She kicks my leg again. “Spill!”
“Ow!” I cry. “You’re so violent.”
“Mel.”
With a loud groan, I just say it. “He’s keeping something from me again, and it’s kind of making me crazy.”
“Oh, shit.” Elaine’s eyes narrow.
Lane’s little head pops up again. “Mommy, bad word!”
“Mommy said spit,” my best friend casually corrects him.
I can’t help noting the obvious. “Lane’s pretty good at spotting the swear words all of a sudden.”
“It’s Patrick!” she shrieks, slapping her leg. “I said he swore too much, and now all he does is point out when I drop a bomb. I’m ready to kill him!”
That makes me grin. “I love him.”
Her bottom lip goes under her front teeth, and she wriggles out an arm to squeeze me. “I know. Now finish telling me what happened.”
With a sigh, I lean back. “Derek is wonderful and attentive and sexy... and I can’t take how he hides things. It’s like this invisible shield or something, and it’s too... It reminds me too much of living with Sloan. I lived so long in his house of secrets and lies. I just... I can’t do it again, Lainey.”
We’re both quiet, and in my peripheral vision, I see her chewing a sour straw as she thinks. “I get that,” she says quietly. A few more moments pass and she adds, “but you know, the grass isn’t really greener. Now that we’re married, Patrick wants to tell me all this sh-spit he’s working on. You know, because wives can’t testify against their husbands?”
“Yeah?” I can’t hide the eagerness burning in my chest that she might know something.
“I don’t. Want. To know!” She waves her hands over her head. “I’m married to the master of pushing the limits. He’s driving me crazy with worry!”
That gives me pause. I sit back and think a moment. I remember my request from Patrick—the promise I’d asked him to make to keep Derek from doing anything “hazardous or potentially life threatening” as Patrick put it.
“I guess that makes sense,” I say quietly.
“We both love Patrick, but oh my god. He takes too many chances.”
Shaking my head, I catch her hand. “It’s not like that. Derek and Patrick are different people, they have different styles.” Searching for the right words, I just say what’s eating up my thoughts. “Derek’s hidden stuff from me before, and it hurt when I found out. It hurt badly.”
My friend’s eyes are round as she turns to me, all teasing gone. “Derek loves you, Melissa.”
“I know that. I know.” Pushing up I go and pull Dex out of his baby chair, ignoring his complaints as I strip off his pajamas. “I’m not a little girl, Elaine. I don’t want a daddy. I want a partner. I want someone who views me as an equal, not someone who keeps things from me—even if he does believe it’s for my own good.”
The best part about having the same best friend since childhood is sharing a deep understanding of each other. Her expression is serious as she watches me. “Have you told him that?”
“No,” I confess, standing my son in front of me and pulling his jeans over the puff of his new diaper. He’s content to let me change him so long as he can see his trains. “He should know how I feel by now. We’ve already been through this.”
“Wait.” My best friend holds her hands up. “Are you saying a male should know how you feel? Is that what I’m hearing you say?”
“Lainey.” I can’t suppress my irritation. “This is Derek.”
She shakes her head, her light blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. “Who happens to be the most manly male we know? Except for maybe Stuart?”
“Patrick’s pretty manly. And stop defending him!” Dex is dressed, and I grab the remote. “We’ve got to go.”
Once the TV is off, both boys get restless, and I can’t help wondering about that Y chromosome. We scoop them up, grab our bags and head out the door. They’re secure in their car seats, and we’re heading to town when Elaine grabs my forearm.
“Stop at the office for a sec.”
My eyes narrow at her. “We don’t have time for a quickie.”
“Just... it’s not that.” She grins, and I can’t help it. I have to know.
“What is it, then?”
“Mel.”
“Lainey.”
She lets out an exasperated breath. “I visited Patrick at the office Friday, and... well... you know, and I forgot a personal item.”
“Do you have a checklist? Shit! Where have you not done it?”
Lane pipes up from the back seat. “Aunt Mel, bad word.”
“Lane!” I cry, defensive. “I said spit!” Narrowing my eyes at my bestie, I grumble. “You’ve got me lying to babies now.”
“I blame Patrick.”
We both snort as we laugh. “Oh my god.” I shake my head, turning into the parking lot of the long, one-story building where Alexander-Knight’s satellite office is located.
“Besides, we’re newlyweds! It’s our honeymoon period!” She climbs out of her side, and I call after her.
“That excuse might’ve worked if I hadn’t known you before the wedding.”
“Grab the boys. The guys will want to see them.”
I lean into the backseat unbuckling them before we all follow her into the rented space, but it’s empty. “We must’ve missed them,” I call as she heads to the back office.
I stand in the reception area while our little boys resume their usual positions—Lane is on his knees making engine noises as his favorite truck runs over the tracks on the rug, Dex is beside him watching. It’s hard to know how long that will last before my little wrecking ball is up and exploring.
“Hurry up,” I call to her as I pick up an issue of People magazine. “I can’t believe they subscribe to these. Who reads them?”
I flip through the magazine as Dex toddles to where I hear Elaine searching.
“Heads up!” I call. “Here comes my little wrecker.”
“I can’t find it!” My friend’s voice is a muffled reply.
Lane is content being the soundtrack for his truck as it follows the lines on the carpet. I’m scanning a movie review, when the monotony is broken by a CRASH! a shriek from my friend, and the slow siren-whine from my son.
“Dex!” I rush to the back.
My little boy’s heartbroken cries grow louder, and I drop to the floor beside Elaine who’s trying to comfort him. He’s rubbing his eyes, and I look around at the scattered photo prints and a large paperweight he knocked off the desk. I’ll have to clean this up.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, shushing him as he pulls my shoulders and buries his face against my chest. “He’s only scared, not hurt.” I glance up at Elaine. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“No,” she says, but her voice trails off. She’s on her knees collecting the photos and looking at them, eyes wide.
“What is it?” I reach out and take one of the prints from her. Turning it over, I have to blink twice to understand what I’m seeing. She hands me another, and my heart starts beating faster. My breath comes in pants as the images click together. I realize what I’m seeing, or rather who I’m seeing.
“Oh my god,” I whisper as my hands tremble. My stomach turns like I might vomit.
Dex is s
till clutching my arms, and I hold my lips, taking a slow breath and trying to calm down. Breathe, Melissa, breathe... Leaning forward, I pick up another photo and notice my hand is trembling.
The images are horrible—a dead man, his face a sick grey color and his neck bent in an unnatural angle, clearly broken. He’s lying on the floor in what appears to be a dark, hotel conference room.
“It’s...” But everything tilts. The room seems to move out, away from me, and I’m afraid I might faint.
I can’t finish my sentence. It doesn’t matter because my friend whispers it for me. “It’s Sloan.”
Lane makes a loud engine noise from the front, and Dex releases me, running to see what his friend is doing. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. I’m paralyzed and numb—and confused. I don’t understand why I’m reacting this way, why I’m so terrified.
My voice shakes like my hands. “Why do they have these?”
Clearly, he was murdered in some gruesome manner. No. I stop myself. I’m jumping to conclusions. Maybe he had an accident. Could he have fallen? But from where? And how?
This is why Derek has been so preoccupied. Rising to stand, my light-headedness almost makes me fall. Dropping all but one print, I catch the side of the desk.
“Melissa?” Elaine jumps up and holds my arm. “Are you okay?”
“I have to talk to Derek.”
“Of course.” Her face is lined, and she holds my arm as we head back out to the front. “Come on boys. Lane, get your truck. Dex, hold my hand.”
It feels like a thick fog is wrapping around me, clouding my vision. Derek doesn’t want me to know about this... But why? I’m afraid I know the answer without needing to ask.
We’re in Elaine’s car heading back to the beach, and I barely register her telling me she’ll keep Dex for the afternoon. When she stops at my cottage, I see his black Audi sitting in the driveway.
“Call me when you’re ready for me to bring him home,” she says.
Nodding, I glance back to check on my little son before I go. He’s happily chattering baby-gibberish at Lane, unaffected by the sudden change in my mood.