by Young, Luke
“Maybe,” Jillian replied then she, Jim and Victoria headed toward the lobby of the hotel as Brian went to track down the waiter.
64
In the luxury hotel suite, Brian woke suddenly in the darkened room and upon reaching over to Jillian’s side of the bed discovered she wasn’t there. He looked to the clock and it read 9:33 a.m. He sat up and glanced around the room, rubbing his eyes and whispered, “Jillian?”
He opened the door to the living area and found her sitting on the sofa wearing a frown. She replied, “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“What happened last night?” He plopped down next to her. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”
She scoffed. “You did drink a little too much.”
“I remember we did it, but after that I don’t know.”
“We did it then you passed out.” She rolled her eyes.
“Sorry about that.”
She swatted her hand at him. “I don’t care about that.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You were snoring away and I couldn’t sleep. I picked up my phone and noticed Rob called at some point last night. He left me a voice mail.”
“What did he say?”
“Bridget is pregnant. She’s about as far along as I am.”
“Wow, that’s… wow. Is he happy about it?”
“He sounded happy.”
“So what’s the problem?” He raised his palms in the air and gave her a look.
“I’m, uh… I’m going to be a grandmother.” She shook her head, frowning. “I’m not ready to be a grandmother. I’m only forty one for God’s sake.”
“You’re going to be the hottest grandmother ever.” He smiled cheerily.
“Yeah, that’s great.” She sighed. “I never should have gotten knocked up in high school.”
He shrugged. “But hey, we’re going to have a baby too, so how cool is that? I mean, when we visit them the baby will have someone to play with. They’ll be the same age.”
Looking at him horrified, her jaw fell open. “Oh my God.”
“What now?”
“I just realized my life is like a not-so-great movie sequel.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you see Father of the Bride 2?”
“I think.”
“I’m Diane Keaton… But her, if she had divorced Steve Martin and married one of her son’s best friends.” She shook her head. “Shit… Jerry Springer will be calling us any day now.”
“It’s not like that at all.” He shook his head frowning, then his expression changed slowly to one of realization. “Okay, it’s a little like that. Maybe, just a little.”
“You see.” Lifting her legs up on the sofa, she grabbed a pillow and held it to her chest clutching it tightly.
“I think you’re making a little too much out of this.”
“Oh, you do. Do you? Well, you’re not going to be a grandmother.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to be a step-grandfather and you don’t see me losing it.”
“That’s not the same thing. Not even close.”
He shrugged then took hold of one of her feet and brought it to his chest, massaging it with both hands.
She put on a sour face. “Don’t try to cheer me up.”
“This does feel good doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” She shook her head then when he slid his hands up to her calf and worked it hard her eyelids fluttered closed and she moaned.
“Hey, in Father of the Bride the son in that movie was like ten or something.”
She replied sarcastically, “Yeah, so were you when I met you.”
“Okay.” He shook his head. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“I don’t care. My hormones are going nuts. I’m getting fat, I’m—”
“You look adorable.”
“No I don’t.”
“You do. Your breasts are getting bigger and you look amazing. You’re glowing. Isn’t that what they say about pregnant women?”
“I’m tired. I feel sick to my stomach half the time and I’m just depressed.”
His eyes brightened. “I would just think of it this way. You’re going to be a GILF. That’s pretty cool right?”
“What the heck is that?”
“Well, you know what a MILF is?”
“Yeah…” As the gears turned in her head, her confused frown changed into a look or horror. “So now I’m a grandmother creepy guys would like to… I’m a GILF!”
“Not creepy guys— just me!”
She looked at him cringing. “Perfect.”
He curled his lip. “Sorry, maybe that was the wrong thing to say to cheer you up.”
“You think…” She widened her eyes.
Guiding her foot higher, he took her big toe into his mouth and sucked it for a moment as his fingers worked the heel of her foot. She sighed. “That feels good. I mean, not the toe in the mouth thing, but your hands… My feet hurt. Uhhh… those heels yesterday were cute, but they killed my feet.”
“I know baby. Just relax. Shhh…” Rubbing her harder now, he went to work on her toes, one by one.
“You have magic hands,” she whispered with her eyes closed.
“How about I give you a rub. Like a whole full body deal. We’ll play naked masseuse.”
“We haven’t done that in a while.” She perked up.
“I know.”
“You’ll sit on me and everything?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I love naked masseuse.”
“Me too, because you never know when something might grow and slip into something else.” He flashed her a sexy smile.
“I just got a chill.” She made a face and shivered. Looking to his lap, she spotted the bulge in his boxer shorts. “Looks like something’s already growing a little.”
“Yep.” He glanced down then gave her a wink. “It might just be a short massage.”
“Noooo… I want a real rub first. Not some two minute thing. You know you’ll be too tired after we do it.”
“Okay,” he grumbled.
Pulling her foot away from him, she sat up, faced him and gave him a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Rising up, she grabbed his hand. “Now, let’s go masseuse boy.”
He followed after her. “Hey, how come I never get a massage?”
“You know my hands get tired very quickly.”
“Oh, yeah I forgot,” he grumbled.
A phone rang on the coffee table. Brian picked his up and shook his head. “Must be yours.”
Grabbing her phone, she looked at the screen. “It’s the doctor. I’d better take it.”
She put the phone to her ear. “Hello… Yes this is… oh…”
Brian moved next to her and mouthed, “What is it?”
She swatted him away with her hand. “Really? Are you sure?” Her mouth opened and she turned to look out the window. “Wow… Um, okay. I’m out of town now, but I’ll call in two days and make an appointment.”
He got her attention and mouthed silently, “What is it?”
“Thank you for calling. Bye.” After ending the call, she returned to the sofa in a zombie-like state and sat down.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He asked with his concern growing exponentially.
“They didn’t see it on the first ultrasound,” she said slowly. “He said sometimes it hides even as late as twelve weeks.”
“What hides?”
Her eyes glazed over and her mouth fell open.
“Jillian, what hides?”
“Twins.” She placed her hand on his arm, her expression unreadable. “We’re having twins.”
“Wow.” He plopped down next to her.
“That’s what I said.”
“How did they find it?”
“He said some of my blood tests results were strange so they took another look at the ultrasound and confirmed it. The tech missed it origina
lly, but it’s definitely twins.”
“So that’s like two of them.” He stared straight ahead, dumbfounded.
“Yeah… two.”
Glancing down to his lap, she giggled. “You seem to have lost your, um…”
“What?” He looked down then shrugged. “Oh, yeah. I guess he’s a little embarrassed for getting us into this mess.”
“Mess?” She looked at him, insulted.
“No, I mean, um, I didn’t mean mess.”
She got up from the sofa and pulled off her night shirt. “Now I really need that rub.”
She headed toward the bedroom and he followed after her in a trance like state. Standing beside the bed they each removed their underwear.
“Two might be fun,” she said semi-convinced.
“Yeah, sure.” He smiled, nervously. “One for you and one for me.”
“They’ll each have someone their age to play with and not six thousand miles away.”
He raised his palms up and nodded. “There you go… there’s a plus.”
“Uh-huh.”
They each took a deep breath then after a few more moments their eyes met.
“So you still want to do the masseuse thing?” He asked.
“Only if you do.”
“We’re already naked and everything.”
“We are.” Her eyes returned to his lap. “And look, he’s growing again.”
“What’d you know…” Pointing to his groin, he smiled. “… he’s back in business. I took a look at your gorgeous breasts just now and that got him all worked up again.”
“That’s sweet.” She climbed on the bed and shook her rear end in front of his face.
His eyes widened. “And… I think I just shot.”
“No way.” Craning her neck back, she took a look.
“Just kidding, but you look so cute doing that.”
“Well, climb aboard Sebastian.”
“What?”
“That’s your Swedish masseuse name.”
“Uh, okay.” He made a face as he moved into position over her, sat down with his growing erection lying between the cheeks of her adorable ass.
She shimmied her hips. “That feels cute.”
“It looks even better.”
He squeezed some oil onto her back and started to work it in. He made his way higher and rubbed her shoulders. She moaned softly as her body melted away into complete relaxation.
Suddenly alarmed, he stopped rubbing her and sat upright. “The doctor didn’t say anything about the possibility that it might be triplets did he? I mean, if the second one were hiding, could there be a third one popping out at some point?”
Lifting her head off the mattress, she craned her neck to look at him. “What? No…”
“You sure?”
“No way. If it had been three, he would have told me, right?”
“Yeah…” He stared straight ahead glassy eyed. “Probably.”
She lay back down. “What happened to my rub?”
“Sorry.” He sighed biting his lip pensively, then got back to it.
THE END…
I hope you enjoyed this book and I love hearing from fans of the series. Feel free to email me with any questions, to maybe share a scene that you enjoyed or just to say hi at [email protected]
A prequel telling the story of how Jillian and Victoria meet along with the sixth book in this series is planned for 2014. Please help spread the word about this series by posting a review online, telling friends or simply by liking my facebook author page by clicking here.
If you are a big fan of this series, want more Victoria and don’t mind a little more spice in your reading, you will want to check out the series prequel released under my Ian Dalton pen name. DESPERATE THOUGHTS details Victoria’s back-story— the super erotic, mostly tragic tale of how she moved on with her life after the death of her husband.
I’ve included an excerpt below for my new novel Chances Aren’t.
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To find out more about the author and his work, see http://www.lukeyoungbooks.com/
ALSO BY LUKE YOUNG
SHRINKAGE
CHOCOLATE COVERED BILLIONAIRE NAVY SEAL
CHANCES AREN’T
The Friends With… Benefits Series:
FRIENDS WITH PARTIAL BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH FULL BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH MORE BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH EXTRA BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH WAY TOO MANY BENEFITS
Also Available:
FRIENDS WITH EXPLICIT BENEFITS BOXED SET (Books 1-4 with select expanded Ian Dalton Scenes)
Chances Aren’t
Opening the door to the house, the scent washes over me and I let out a deep sigh. Every week, for more than twenty five years, I’ve enjoyed this homemade family recipe spaghetti sauce and tonight is the night. I wasn’t expecting it, but it will be, by far, the highlight of my day, if not my week. It’s this secret recipe that’s been in my wife Emily’s family for generations. They don’t have it written down anywhere, they all just know it by heart. The mother, the three sisters, and hell, even the brother can make it, although his just isn’t the same as the girls’. I guess they don’t want anyone to steal it, so short of torturing one of the O’Brien girls to get it, I guess the rest of the world is out of luck. Don’t panic thinking that the Irish are now somehow masters of great pasta sauce— they’re only half Irish, the recipe is clearly from the Italian side of the family.
“Hi,” I say as I place my briefcase down.
Standing at the sink dumping the steaming pot of pasta into a colander, she says, “I made meat sauce.”
I was wrong; this will be the highlight of the month. “No way, and is that ziti?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Fuck yeah… I’m going to need to sit down. When one gets this excited over a meal, either it’s an indication that the person lives one hell of a pathetic life or the food is really just that good. Trust me it’s that good, but sadly, in this case, it’s a little bit of both.
I close my eyes and take another whiff. I’m salivating like crazy and starving, after having nothing more than a yogurt with granola all day, I’m ready for some real food. And this is my absolute favorite, her famous meat sauce over ziti. Because ziti is the gold standard of pasta, just the right size noodle with those little tunnels, which not only trap pockets of delicious sauce, but also allow the prongs of your fork inside for clean and secure lifting to your waiting mouth. They cook evenly, sans ridges like a rigatoni, which invariably ends up being partially over and undercooked and unlike spaghetti noodles, which are so messy, even an expertly spun forkful has the tendency to flop around launching sauce shrapnel everywhere. I say, give me ziti any day. In fact, they should really stop making all other forms of noodles, well, except for lasagna. Ah, lasagna— there’s a good chance I might be clutching my chest right now if she was pulling one of those out of the oven.
Shaking my head, I return from my pasta fantasy, frowning as I notice she’s not running the cold water while draining. I don’t say a word about it, even though we’ve discussed many times what running boiling water down the drain can do to your pipes. Why risk a fight when I’m about to get a plate full of heaven? I’ll save it for another noodle and another day.
“When’s the last time we had meat sauce?” I ask.
Turning to me, she simply shrugs.
I sit down with my heaping plate before me and dig in. Closing my eyes, I savor the taste moaning in pleasure. I cover my half full mouth with my napkin and mumble, “Oh man, this is good.”
She sits next to me and I notice her plate contains only a few dozen noodles barely covered with sauce, so I ask, “What’s the matter? You feel okay?”
“Just not very hungry.”
“Well, it’s amazing… as usual.”
After carefully sliding my three pronge
d fork into three noodles, I scoop under a pool of sauce full of meat, admire the sight for a moment, and then slide it into my mouth. She’s staring at me with a slightly disgusted look. I quickly chew, but not nearly enough, then swallow fighting to suppress my ‘What-About-Bob’ reaction to this mouthful. I catch her rolling her eyes a bit and give her a sorrowful shrug. “Sorry, I’ll slow down.”
“No, enjoy it.” She shoots me a slight smile and moves her noodles around her plate with her fork before skewering one and bringing it to her mouth.
Taking a slice of Italian bread, I drown it in sauce and take a bite, letting my lids close for a moment before forcing them open. “Sorry, I know you hate it when I have sex with your sauce.”
She shakes her head, curling her lip and either fighting back a laugh or the urge to stab me with her butter knife, but I’m not sure which. A memory pops into my brain and I smile. “Hey, you remember when we were dating that summer and your father would always be sitting in that chair in the living room while everyone was in the dining room? From that angle he looked like he was naked in that chair wearing only those little shorts.”
“Yeah…” She replies, disinterested, with not even a chuckle.
I’m convinced now she wants to stab me. “You’re not still mad about that show are you?”
“No, I’m—”
“Cause I must have set the DVR wrong or something, but I was able to download the entire video to my phone while I was at work. I figured you could watch it while we drive up to the outlets this weekend. You know your birthday is coming up and we could have lunch at that place you like.”
This seems to catch her off guard as she makes a face, so I ask, “You still want to go, right?”
“Um, I, uh… We’ll see.”
I shovel in only two noodles this time, and chew slowly while giving her a controlled smile as I swallow. “I watched some of that show at lunch today and I can’t believe we were at the bar the night that girl went missing. That’s just crazy isn’t it?”
“Yes, look Ben I think—”
“So you never met Jordan?”
“No,” she fires back quickly.
“He went to Towson too. Do you really think he killed her? I mean, they don’t have any real evid—”
“Ben, I need to…” Emily begins before closing her eyes and rubbing her hands over her face.