“I think you broke me,” she says, burrowing against the pillow.
After our little stint in the living room, I brought her to my bed, and this time I made sweet, sweet love to her. It wasn’t rough and frenzied like earlier, but soft and gentle, the kind of love she deserves.
“One more round.”
I’ll probably die if she agrees to another round, but I’ll take the risk if she’s game.
“Oh, no.” Lennon shakes her head, her eyes drifting shut. “I swear you’re trying to kill me.”
“Death by orgasm.”
“What a way to go.” She snuggles against me, her back to my front and, sure as shit, my cock stirs once again.
Lennon moans when I guide myself to her entrance, sliding my dick in as deep as her body will allow.
“Noah—”
“Shh…” I press my lips to her outer ear. “I just need to be inside you.”
“I need that, too.” Lennon yawns, her eyelids drifting shut. I sweep my eyes over her naked body, along the sensual curve of her hip, and my fingers follow. Goosebumps rise under my touch, and when I kiss Lennon’s bare shoulder, she shivers. The sensation of having her wrapped around me is almost too much. I’m tempted to pull out, roll over, and call it a night, remind myself that I don’t deserve a woman like her because I don’t have time for someone else in my life, but I’m too damn selfish.
This girl is mine.
And I have to take what’s mine.
Lennon doesn’t resist when I worship her body one last time, and when we roll over and her breathing evens out, her limbs go lax against mine, I realize for the first time in five years that I feel…content.
Truly content.
It’s as though she completes a part of me I didn’t know was missing.
Closing my eyes, I relish the feel of her soft body pressed against mine. It’s in this position, with her hair fanned out around her head and my palm gently cupping her breast, that I fall asleep.
Some time later, the sound of the front door slamming startles me awake.
The sun is starting to peek through the curtains, but it’s still dim, and a glance at the clock reveals that it’s only six o’clock in the morning. I yawn, lying there for a couple of seconds, wondering if maybe the door closing was all just a dream, and then I hear it: the faint sound of feet pitter-pattering around the living room.
“Shit,” I hiss, waking Lennon up.
“What’s wrong?” Wrapping the sheet around her chest, Lennon yawns. “You okay?”
“Nova’s home.”
“What?” she says, a bit too loudly. Quickly realizing her mistake, she covers her mouth with her hands.
Slipping out of bed, I tiptoe across the room and flick the lock on the door so Nova can’t barge in, because that’s something she would do. I’ve always had an open-door policy with her, but this is something she most definitely does not need to see.
“Daddy?”
Nova’s voice carries through the house, and I berate myself for being in a position that doesn’t allow me to go straight to her.
Lennon’s eyes widen, and she scurries from the bed, quickly slipping into her clothes from the night before.
“Daddy, are you up?” The knob on my door wiggles, and my stomach twists in a knot. “Daddy?”
Closing my eyes, I run a hand over my face. “I’m here, baby girl. I’ve gotta get dressed and I’ll be right out.”
“Noah?”
“Who is that?” Lennon mouths.
“My mother.”
Lennon’s face pales, and I reach out for her. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Just give me a second to figure this out.”
“This is not okay,” she whispers back. “Your mother and daughter are outside that door.” Lennon is watching said door as if the devil himself is about to barge in, and I have to admit, the look on her face is a little comical. If we weren’t pressed for time, I’d kiss the shit out of her gaping lips.
“My dad, too,” I add, unable to help myself.
Lennon’s mouth snaps shut, and she glares at me.
“Noah?” my mom hollers again. “Is that you?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mother, it’s me. Who else would be in here?”
“Just checking, sweetie. You’re usually up by now.”
I stride toward Lennon and nuzzle the side of her neck. “I would’ve been except someone kept me up late last night,” I whisper.
“Shhh,” Lennon says, giggling and shoving me away.
This girl.
I can’t get enough of her, and now she’s standing in the middle of my room in her rumpled clothes from last night with flushed cheeks, looking sexy as hell, and my cock is standing at full attention.
Clearing my throat, I grab my jeans off the floor and pull them on, along with a T-shirt. “What are you doing back this early in the morning?” I call, knowing my mother is still standing outside the door. She’s suspicious already, I can tell. It’s probably that mother’s intuition she’s always talking about.
“You know how your dad is.” Her sigh is audible from behind the door. “I’ll make breakfast and tell you all about our trip.”
“Sounds good, Mom. I’ll be out in a few.”
I hear her walk away, followed by the theme song to Nova’s favorite TV show.
Turning to Lennon, I try offering her a reassuring smile. “You okay?”
“Your family is here, Noah,” she says, glancing around the room as though she’s looking for a way to escape. “This isn’t exactly how I envisioned meeting your parents and your daughter. What are they going to think when they see me doing the walk of shame?”
She’s right. This isn’t exactly how I would want her meeting my parents—hell, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the notion that I want her to meet my parents. But ushering her out of my house like a cheap date doesn’t feel right either.
“How am I going to get out of here?”
Her eyes are pleading with me to fix this, to do something to get us out of this mess, but the only answer I can come up with is to walk her into my living room, introduce her to my parents and my little girl, and have her sit next to me at breakfast.
I’ve never done anything like this, not since Kim, and the thought terrifies me. But something about it just feels right. Every single time I’m around Lennon, I have this intense reaction. My heart races, my palms sweat, and I get this insane urge to touch her and be close to her. I’ve never had a connection like this with another woman, and that right there should tell me something. It does tell me something. I want her to meet my parents.
I want her to meet Nova.
I hold out my hand, knowing that if she takes it, if she trusts me enough to do what I’m about to do, we have a real chance of making whatever this might be between us work.
“Noah.” She slips her hand in mine, and I pull her close.
“Stay.”
Her eyes widen.
My legs are restless as I wait for her to say something, anything, half expecting her to dive out the window.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Three letters.
One word that solidifies our connection.
She blinks and then smiles, and it’s enough to bring me to my fucking knees. This woman is going to ruin me for anyone else. I just know it.
“Okay.”
Lennon’s hand is trembling in mine. I squeeze it as we step into the kitchen. “Hey, Ma.”
“There you are. I threw in some cinnamon rolls,” Mom says, opening the door to the oven and peeking inside. They must not be done because she shuts the door, turns toward me, and takes one step forward. When she sees Lennon, she stops.
Her lips fall open before tilting upward in a tentative smile that grows as the situation sinks in. Then she rushes past me and heads straight for Lennon.
“Mom, this is Lennon.”
Untangling her fingers from mine, Lennon holds her hand out toward my mother. “It’
s a pleasure to meet you.”
Mom grips Lennon’s hand and tugs her in for a tight hug. Lennon squeaks, but quickly obliges.
“She’s beautiful,” Mom mouths over Lennon’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get cleaned up,” Lennon says. “If I’d known I’d be eating breakfast with you, I certainly would have.”
“Hush.” With both hands on Lennon’s shoulders, Mom pulls back. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
Lennon glances back at me when my mom leads her toward the table and motions for her to sit down. “Lennon, what a beautiful name.”
Lennon beams. “Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham.”
My mother scoffs, waving her off. “Please, call me Diane. Mrs. Cunningham was my mother-in-law, and she wasn’t nearly as cool as I am. Now, tell me about yourself, Lennon. Where are you from? How long have you and Noah been seeing each other?”
“Come on, Mom.” I urge her away from Lennon. “Can we save the third degree for another time?”
“I’m not giving her the third degree,” she admonishes, propping her hands on her hips. “It’s been five years since you’ve brought a woman home. Excuse me if I’m curious about the stunning lady my boy is having relations with.”
“Mother, please!” The woman has no damn filter whatsoever. She’s a grown-up version of Nova.
Lennon laughs. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“Daddy!”
Leave it to Nova to barge in at just the right time. She barrels into the room and wraps herself around my leg. Bending down, I scoop her up. Burying my face in her soft curls, I hold her tight.
“Are the cinnamon rolls ready?” she asks. “I’m hungry.”
“I missed you, hungry.” I assault her with a barrage of kisses, and Nova giggles, wriggling in my arms.
“I missed you too, Daddy.”
Nova is growing up way too fast, so I hold on a few seconds longer, enjoying this moment. One of these days she won’t throw herself at me and let me hold her, and I don’t even want to think about what I’ll do then.
When I open my eyes, they instantly find my mother’s. She’s watching us with a gentle smile, likely remembering a young me doing this exact same thing. My father picks that moment to walk into the room. He flings an arm around Mom’s shoulder and kisses her on the cheek, and I’m all but forgotten as they lose themselves in conversation.
This is all it takes. This one moment shines a much-needed light of clarity as I turn to look at Lennon. I will always put Nova first, always, but that doesn’t mean I have to put me last. I want what my parents have. I want someone to stand by me as I raise my daughter, someone to share these moments with me, someone to love. One of these days, I want to sit on my front porch and watch my grandchildren play in the yard, and I want my wife sitting next to me.
I’m not sure if Lennon is that person, but I’d sure as hell like to find out.
Lennon smiles softly, and my heart flips over, but I don’t have long to analyze the feeling because Nova squirms out of my hold and walks straight to Lennon.
“Who are you?”
I take a step forward to intervene when Mom throws an arm out, stopping me. Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head, and I take a deep breath as I watch the little girl who owns every piece of my heart slowly give a tiny chunk of it to Lennon.
“My name is Lennon. What’s your name?” Lennon places her elbows on her knees so she can get down to Nova’s level.
“Nova. I like your skirt.” Nova reaches out and rubs the material. “It’s soft.”
“Thank you. I made it.”
Nova’s eyes widen. “You can make skirts?”
“She sews,” Mom whispers, elbowing me in the side. “Not many girls sew these days, Noah.”
“Yes, Mom, I heard her.” Shaking my mom off, I watch Lennon to see what she’ll say.
“I can make just about anything you can wear.”
Nova’s eyes widen. “Really?”
Lennon nods.
“Can you make princess dresses?”
“I make the best princess dresses. The kind with lots of sparkles and a skirt that flares out when you twirl.”
“Those are my favorite kind,” Nova says, twirling on the kitchen floor. “Can you make me one?”
“Nova—” I warn.
“I’d love to,” Lennon says, interrupting me.
“Can you paint my nails, too? Oh, and do my hair? But not like yours. Yours is messy.”
“Nova, that wasn’t nice,” I warn.
“It’s okay.” Lennon runs her fingers through her hair. “I did just wake up. I’m sure it’s a disaster.”
“Did you stay the night with my daddy?”
Lennon’s eyes open wide when she realizes her mistake. “I, uh…” she sputters.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother trying not to laugh. I elbow her in the side before pulling up a seat next to Lennon.
Shit.
How do you explain something like this?
I glance at Lennon for help, but she grabs a glass of juice off the table and takes a sip.
I swallow and turn to Nova. She’s watching me with big doe eyes, and I can feel the weight of Lennon’s as well. “Lennon and I had a little sleepover last night. Kinda like when you have Marybeth come over and play, except Lennon stayed the night.”
“But Lennon’s a girl.” Nova looks at me, then at Lennon. “And you’re a boy.”
Lennon nearly chokes on her juice, and I reach an arm out, patting her back several times. “Well, sweetheart—”
“Does that mean I can have Davis stay the night?” Nova asks, referring to a little boy on her soccer team.
“Absolutely not.” No way in hell. I hate to break it to Nova, but she won’t be having co-ed sleepovers until she’s at least twenty-five.
Nova frowns. “That’s not fair.”
The buzzer on the stove goes off, and my mother, like usual, saves the day. “Come on, sweetie. Help me put icing on the cinnamon rolls.” With a hand to Nova’s back, she guides her toward the oven.
“Do I get to lick the spoon?”
“Not if I get to it first,” Dad says, pretending to race Nova across the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry.” Lennon turns toward me and places a hand on my leg. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that.”
“It’s okay.” Lifting her hand, I kiss her palm before setting it back down on my thigh.
Lennon worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I feel bad.”
“Don’t.”
“Breakfast is ready.” Mom places two pans of cinnamon rolls on the table, and everyone else takes their seats.
For so long, it’s just been the four us at family dinners, or in this case breakfast, and I’ve never felt like anything was missing.
Until now.
Seated between Lennon and Nova with my parents across from us, the room feels full—whole. More than it ever has before.
Nova dives into her cinnamon roll with a fervor only a five year old can possess while my mom takes the opportunity to fill us in on the adventures of their camping trip.
With a fork in one hand, and Lennon’s fingers wrapped in the other under the table, I get lost in conversation and the quiet simplicity of the moment.
After breakfast, I unpack Nova’s bag from her weekend away and toss her dirty clothes in the washer. Then I walk into the kitchen and stop short at the sight of Lennon standing at the sink. Nova is perched on a chair next to her, and they’re both laughing.
Seeing the two of them together like this is overwhelming. In a good way. My feet and legs ache with the need to walk to them and wrap them in my arms, or just be a part of their conversation. But they need this time. If I want Lennon to be a part of our life, they need to get to know each other, and judging by the smiles, it’s going well.
Widening my stance, I prop my hip against the doorjamb and settle in for a little eavesdropping.
“What’s your favorite color?�
��
Lennon shoves her hands in the soapy water. “Purple. What’s yours?”
Nova taps her chin and holds her finger straight up in the air as though a light bulb just went on. “Pink. What’s your favorite food?”
“Definitely pizza. You?”
“Macaroni and cheese.”
Lennon nods, rinsing a plate before handing it to Nova to dry. “Good choice. Favorite princess?”
“Ariel.”
“I’m going with Elsa.”
Stacking the plate on the counter, Nova cocks her head. “Elsa? But she doesn’t have a prince. Every princess needs a prince.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t found her prince.” Lennon hands Nova another plate.
Wrinkling her nose, Nova contemplates and then shrugs. “Well, when I find my prince, he’s going to be handsome and smart and have lots of tattletoos, just like my daddy.”
Lennon chuckles. “Oh yeah?”
Oh, hell no, he’s not!
“What are you doing?” Mom whispers, walking up behind me.
“Shhh.” I point to Nova and Lennon.
Nova nods like a bobblehead. “And he’s going to love to clean.”
Lennon laughs. “Why’s that?”
“Because I hate cleaning my room. So if I marry a prince who cleans, he can clean up all of my messes.”
“I like the way you think.” Lennon pulls a soapy hand out of the water and Nova high fives her, sending suds everywhere.
Both girls giggle, and I find myself smiling along with them.
Wrapping her hand in a towel, Lennon reaches out and wipes bubbles off of Nova’s face. The way she does it, so gentle and caring, must catch Nova’s attention because her giggle fades into a hesitant yet hopeful smile.
“I’ve never seen that look on Nova’s face before,” I whisper to my mom.
“That’s the look you used to give me.” She taps my arm, and I follow her into the living room.
My mother sits down on the couch, dragging me along with her, and stares at me with that knowing look—the one she’s perfected over the years.
“What?”
“Don’t what me. You know what,” Mom says.
Here we go.
I lean back and look at my mom, silently waiting for her to get on with it.
The Truth About Lennon Page 9