Fall In Love Again (Serendipitous Love Book 3)

by Christina C Jones

  “I’ll concede that,” she said, reaching forward to run a hand over my hair. “Are we good now? You’ve found your peace with it?”

  Shrugging, I looked up to meet her gaze. “I guess. I mean… I was at peace with not having a dad, until I found out that I did. Now… it just kinda… is what it is. I already made nice with Lorenzo, so we’re good.”

  “Good. He’s been a great secret father to you,” she laughed. “Where do you think the money I gave you to help open Pot Liquor came from?”

  I sat up, surprised. “He did that?”

  My mother nodded. “Sure did. Made sure you had great birthdays, made sure you could pay your tuition…you can consider him something of a… silent partner in your parenting.”

  “Wow.” I shook my head. “So… it seems like if he was so… secretly involved, you two would have spent a lot of time together. So why was he always asking me “where ya fine ass momma?”

  She smiled. “Oh, sweetheart. I may have communicated with him, but I made sure to not be around him when I could avoid it.”

  “Why?”

  Leaning forward, she kissed my forehead, then patted me on the shoulder as she stood. “Sweetie… your daddy could sweet talk the panties off a first lady. Once I got delivered from the voodoo dick on that man… I was not interested in going back.”

  — & —

  I woke up to kisses on the back of my neck more often than I liked.

  Not that I minded getting kissed on the neck. I actually loved it, but kisses on the neck in the morning meant that Nixon was taking the quickest possible path to get me aroused, so that I was already wet when he put his fingers between my legs, which meant it would only take a few strokes before I was ready for him to be inside me.

  For yet another quickie.

  Nothing against quickies, but damn… quickies was all we did anymore. With everything going on, the website, the rebuilding, the food truck, the pregnancy… between the two of us, no matter what time we tried, it seemed like neither of us ever had the time or energy for more than that. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d made the kind of slow, intense, sheet-scorching love that had gotten me pregnant in the first place. I missed that.

  But under no circumstances would I complain.

  Not when Nixon was doing so much, working so hard, so he could provide for me and these babies. I wouldn’t dare open my mouth to ask him to do more, when what he was doing was already more than enough. He was more than enough.

  Every once in a while, that conversation from after the fire would ring in my head. Him reminding me that he did and sacrificed so much for me… it wasn’t a request for a pat on the back, or a suggestion that I crown him king, or bow at his feet, nothing like that. He just needed me to recognize that he was willing to work his fingers to the bone to make me happy… and I did.

  So… no, I wasn’t gonna complain. Even when in the middle of dinner, he stopped eating and stared at me over his plate. “Baby… are you okay?”

  Quickly — maybe too quickly — I nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired. The formal divorce decree came in the mail today. So, it’s official now.”

  His eyes lit up. “Good. I didn’t want to have to fight anybody about it.”

  Shaking my head, I ran my fingers down the condensation on my water glass. “You know I hit eighteen weeks today?”

  “Yeah,” he smiled. “I get the updates on my phone.”

  I grinned at that. Just like last time, Nixon was so into this pregnancy. He’d fallen asleep with his head pressed to my belly more times than I could count, and kept up with appointment dates and such better than I did. Then… my smile dropped. Just like last time, I was concerned he was going to work himself into an early grave.

  “Baby…”

  When I returned my gaze to his face, his expression was concerned, and his shoulders were tense, like he was ready to spring out of his seat and attack danger at any second.

  “Nix, I’m fine. Finish your dinner, and I’m gonna go run a bath.”

  Before he could respond, I’d maneuvered myself and my baby bump away from the table. The landlord had installed new, wider bathtubs just a week ago, and I hadn’t taken a long soak yet.

  When I came back from filling the tub, the kitchen was clean, and Nixon was sitting down in front of the computer, undoubtedly to work.

  “Uh-uh,” I said, pulling him back up. “You’re gonna come and get in the bathtub with me instead.”

  With a regretful smile, Nixon leaned forward, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry, babe, but I have to—“

  “No you don’t.” With a pointed look, I closed the laptop, then tugged at his arm. “Whatever it is… it can wait. You need to relax.”

  “Charlie, seriously. This expense report needs to get done.”

  “Or what?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean or what?”

  “Exactly what I said. What, exactly, is gonna happen if you don’t do that expense report, or the dozen other things you were going to do tonight?”

  Tipping his head to the side, Nixon considered my question, but it took him too long to respond.

  “See,” I asked, gripping fistfuls of his shirt. “If you don’t do it tonight… it just doesn’t get done. Right?”

  He scratched his head. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

  “You guess?”

  “Okay,” he grinned, grabbing me at the waist to draw me closer. “You’re right.”

  “Mmhmm. And… we should probably hire some help.” Nixon started to shake his head, but I reached up, stilling it. “Baby, listen to me,” I said. “We don’t have to run ourselves in the ground. The food truck is doing great. I have money from my savings. The insurance covered the rebuilding, and the restaurant will be finished and back open before we know it. We can afford it, Nixon. I can’t have you stressing and working yourself into a stroke or a heart attack before you’re even thirty-five because you won’t hire somebody to help us with all of this. These babies are gonna need you. And I’m not complaining, but… I need you too. Now. It’s not that I need you to do more, I need you to do…less. We barely spend any time together anymore, Nix.”

  Nixon sighed, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Babe… you know I’m doing this for you and the twins, right?”

  “I do,” I quickly assured him, with a smile. “I know that. But… you know the saying, work smarter, not harder? Listen to what I’m telling you I need from you, instead of doing what you think I need from you… isn’t that the whole purpose of this communication thing?”

  Pulling me close, Nixon enveloped me in his arms. “It is… you’re right.”

  “I’m sorry, if this feels like me nagging you, or like I’m never satisfied. I just… I guess I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.”

  “I get that, baby.”

  I smiled. “Good. So… come on. Let’s get in this tub, before the water gets cold.”

  Chuckling, Nixon gave in to my tugging and followed me into the bathroom, where we lowered the lights and climbed in together, with me resting my back against his chest. I’d put in one of my bath bombs, so we stayed there, soaking, kissing, touching, and caressing, until the water turned from hot to warm, and we climbed out.

  We let the tub drain, then got into the shower to rinse off. Once we were dry, I stripped the duvet and covers from the bed, then laid one of my bath sheets out.

  I directed Nixon to lay on his stomach across the bed, and I took my time to rub him down, warming oil between my hands before massaging it into his skin. His feet, legs, butt, back, shoulders, arms…. I lavished attention on my hard working man until I’d touched everything I could reach, then directed him to turn over.

  He did so lazily, and when he made it onto his back I straddled his legs, grinning down at him as I rubbed his chest and stomach.

  “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

  He grunted, then peeled his eyes open with a smile. “I’m not trying to, but this feels dam
ned good. Didn’t realize I needed it.”

  I paused over his chest, leaning to press a kiss against his lips. “I know.”

  I turned around, bending forward to rub oil into the fronts of his legs and thighs. The feeling of Nixon’s hands, moving over my ass, down to my thighs, up to my waist, then back down to my thighs pulled a little moan from my throat. I stayed in the position as he slipped a first, then second finger inside of me.

  “This is a sexy ass view,” he said. His voice was edged with fatigue, but his fingers were wide awake, and a moment later, I found out his mouth was as well. He eased me forward, onto all fours as he maneuvered his legs from between mine, putting his face there instead. I gasped as his mouth covered me, licking and sucking and kissing and biting and devouring me like I was a last meal before execution.

  “W-wait a minute,” I breathed, moaning again as his tongue slipped and slid between my legs. “This is supposed to be about you. I wanted… I wanted to…ah.”

  Shit.

  I couldn’t think straight with his fingers and tongue everywhere, and his — oh my God. His fingers were still inside me, mouth still full of me when my head went fuzzy, vision exploded into a sea of stars, body tensed, then released as I came. I was still throbbing, still wanted more, when I pushed him onto his back, eliciting a groan of pleasure when I covered him with my mouth.

  I curled my tongue around him, sucking hard, then again with lighter pressure as I moved over him, lifting my gaze to watch him watch me through half-lidded eyes. Gently, he gripped my hair as he raised off the bed in response to my attention, grunting a rough, “Goddamn, honeybun,” before he clenched my hair a little harder. The more he pushed upward, in gentle back and forth motions to stroke my mouth, the more those harsh grunts and whispers escaped his throat, the more aroused I became. I loved this, savoring the taste and feel of him in my mouth, knowing that I was the only one he allowed to control his body in this way.

  “Baby,” he groaned, and I knew what that meant, but I kept him in my mouth, pulling him deeper, and deeper, until he let go.

  Before I could wipe my mouth and catch my breath, Nixon had turned me onto my back again, propping pillows under me so I wasn’t flat. His hungry gaze raked over me, so intense that I felt it, like wind whispering over my skin, before his eyes landed on my breasts. He positioned himself over me, carefully avoiding putting his weight on my belly. His hands drifted down to my now sensitive nipples, lightly teasing until they adjusted to his touch enough for him to gently take one his mouth. He watched my face, gauging my reactions, knowing that his tongue needed to be easy and slow, to prime me up before he could finally suck. I watched one arousal-darkened nipple, then the other disappear into his mouth, and I arched away from the pillows as his fingers entered me again.

  “Charlie,” he murmured against my chest, raising his eyes again to meet my gaze.

  “Yeah?”

  He closed his eyes, groaning a little as his hardness replaced his fingers inside me. When he opened them again, he gave me a lazy grin, flashing his dimples.

  “I love the hell out of you, girl.”

  He started stroking me then, deep, long, and intentionally slow, so it took me a moment to respond. My body clenched around him, and he pushed back, sliding through my slick, wet heat to build that familiar pressure in my core.

  “I love you too Nix,” I whispered, digging my nails into his shoulders as he pushed deeper, riding the line between pain and pleasure, but it was so blissfully good feeling him like this, taking his time, leading me slowly to my peak that it didn’t matter. He pushed my legs up beside my stomach to burrow deeper still, as far as he could.

  He kissed me, gently nipping my bottom lip before he drug it into his mouth and sucked. A moment later, our tongues were united, tasting and massaging as we made love. The buildup was slow, and then suddenly the coil of pressure wound as tight as it would go. I gave in, and released, melting back onto the pillows with my hands gripping Nixon’s arms as he kept driving forward, until he exploded as well.

  He collapsed beside me to avoid my stomach, then immediately drew me close, kissing my shoulder. Not even two minutes later, I heard his subtle snores, and I laughed quietly. Maneuvering out of his arms, I used a warm towel to clean him and the sheets up the best I could, then took another shower.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, he was still passed out, his lips slightly parted.

  “Sleep tight,” I whispered, pulling the sheets up to cover both of us as I settled in beside him. Because he was a sound sleeper, I turned on my side, taking advantage of the opportunity to just study his face.

  Nixon didn’t look that much different from before, except for the subtle lines of age and stress in his face. I took a mental note, to hire an assistant for him, if he wouldn’t do it for himself. He was always so in tune with my needs — just like tonight, when I’d said everything except “I need more than a quickie”, and he’d somehow figured out that’s what I meant anyway. I wanted him to feel the same overwhelming love I felt when he put himself aside.

  I decided, right then, to always make sure he was well taken care of, just like he took care of me.

  twenty-two.

  nixon.

  Charlie was stressed.

  She hadn’t said anything to me about it, and I doubted that she would, but every once in a while, I would catch her staring at the calendar in her phone, with a far off expression in her eyes. Sometimes, if she was rubbing my back, her hands would linger, fingers faltering over the date on Noah’s tattoo.

  Every year, I felt the weight of that day. Over time, it got lighter, but I certainly remembered. Every year, I wondered what she was doing. If she was still mourning… still hurting. This year… I didn’t have to wonder.

  I could see for myself she was getting more and more anxious, and I suspected it had a lot to do with her current pregnancy. She was approaching twenty weeks, and the day of that appointment, the one where we’d find out the genders, was the day after the one we’d lost Noah.

  She was more than just stressed. She was… kind of freaking out.

  Obsessive about what she ate, who touched her belly, going up and down stairs, everything was a big deal this week, when the week before… it wasn’t.

  I didn’t know what to do for her.

  I hated not knowing what to do for her.

  Charlie wanted me to hire an assistant, so I did. Turned out, she was right. The salary I paid Ava — originally a lawyer, but now freshly graduated with a BA and an interest in restaurant management— was more than worth the drastic decrease in stress, and instant increase in the time I got to spend with Charlie. Some of it was just a shift in where the time was spent. Now, I could help with recipe development for the food truck and the website, both of which were big hits. Some was time spent alone, just being quiet, or watching a movie while I rubbed her butt until she fell asleep. Other times, like now, were times spent with our friends, which I didn’t realize I missed so much until we had it back.

  Heavy construction happened next door during the daylight hours, as the crew worked to bring Pot Liquor back. There was no trace of that now at Urban Grind, only the ever-present aroma of coffee, and the smooth, easy guitar melodies from the live band on stage.

  In our little booth, Viv was speaking animatedly about something, moving her hands for emphasis. I watched Charlie watch her hands. Specifically — Charlie was staring at Viv’s engagement ring. Out of curiosity, I continued watching, waiting on some emotion to cross her face… and finally, it did.

  She smiled.

  She looked from Viv, to Carter, then back to Viv, dropping her head as a huge grin that had nothing to do with what Viv was fussing about overtook her mouth. She shook her head, straightened up, and then… she looked back at me, still wearing a smile.

  For that little moment, Charlie’s eyes were absent of the anxiety and fear I’d been seeing for the last few days. When she realized I was looking at her, her smile brightened even more, an
d she leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder.

  I checked my pocket, then kissed her on the head. Dropping my mouth to her ear, I asked, “What are you smiling about so hard?”

  “Them,” she whispered, snuggling closer. “They needed each other. It’s just really beautiful.”

  You’re really beautiful.

  I wasn’t sure why I her happiness for Viv struck me so hard. There was no jealously that her cousin had a ring and she didn’t, only… love.

  Thinking about it, I realized that even once Charlie was officially divorced, she hadn’t mentioned getting married. No sideways comments about when it would be her turn, no dropping of little hints. Except for the tension about the babies, she was just… cool. Living in the moment, allowing me to prove myself, without any prodding. Maybe this time… she was letting me decide when it was time.

  “Hey… why don’t we go on and head home?”

  She lifted her head to look at me, and then smiled, curiosity brimming in her eyes just before they darkened with desire. “Sure.”

  We excused ourselves with handshakes and hugs, leaving the rest of the group to their conversation. Outside, the early fall air carried a little chill, so I kept Charlie tucked close as we headed down the street. She was quiet. So quiet I suspected that now that we were out of the loud, lively environment of the coffee shop, her mind had wandered back to that day.

  I wished I could take that pain from her.

  “Charlie…”

  I stopped walking, pulling her to a stop with me before I turned to face her. Her nose was starting to turn a little red from the cold, and with her kitten-eared hat — which she swore she didn’t get from the kid’s section — pulled low on her head, she looked so sweet and beautiful that it made me smile.

  “What’s up?”

  I took a deep breath, then cleared my throat. A car drove past, honking their horn, with the passenger yelling something out the window about the sweet potato pancakes from the food truck. We laughed and waved, and when I turned back to Charlie, her face was still pulled into a mid-giggle smile.