by Cole, S. Ann
Grinning, she breathlessly whispered, “Ditto,” before crashing her lips back down to his.
Thirty-two years of sins, and Trevillo Nelson’s life had only just begun.
This was chapter fucking one.
Series Epilogue
The Nelsons’ Happily Ever After
Five years into the future …
Natalio & Sadie
“Arrrgh!! Nothing fits!”
Crash!
Clatter!
Clang!
Natalio winced as he swiftly escaped his wife’s wrath and sought refuge in Nathan’s room, closing the door behind him. His son’s room was his safe haven whenever Sadie had one of her ‘I’m-too-fat’ meltdowns. He’d long ago given up explaining to her the ‘fat’ she hates so much wouldn’t go away if she continued to find excuses not to workout with him in the mornings and continued eating greasy pepperoni pizza every single day. She never listened.
Yet, whenever she had to dress to go out, she would trip into a pit of depression, or more like a tumultuous meltdown, becoming quite hazardous to any unlucky bastard in her vicinity. Natalio knew to stay as far away from her as possible in those moments.
Truth be told, he loved her new size. What she called ‘baby fat’, he called curves. If she was as fat and unattractive as she thought, he wouldn’t ‘suggest’ she workout with him in the mornings; he’d haul her ass out of bed and force her to workout. And put her on a diet.
But ‘fat’ was far from what his wife was. In his eyes, she was sexier than she’d ever been. Her curves were now accentuated and exaggerated, her thighs were a little thicker — those, he loved — her lips were fuller, and her rack was wolf-whistle worthy.
Nonetheless, he couldn’t tell her his true thoughts, or he’d be ducking flying bricks the next second. She accused him of saying those things just to make her feel better, so he kept his compliments to himself.
Hearing another loud crash echo from their bedroom, Natalio unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered himself down into an armchair next to his son’s crib. They were going to be late, and Marcello would be pissed. Thanksgiving dinner with the family was scheduled to commence in less than an hour, and Sadie’s meltdown had yet to subside.
Shrugging to himself, he thought, better Marcello’s wrath than my wife’s.
A faint hiccup sounded from Nathan’s crib, and he peered inside to check if the little bugger was awake. Of course, he was awake with all that crashing and clanging his mother was making.
Natalio stood and reached inside the crib, and bundling Nathan into his arms, he sat back down. The heart-swelling feeling that always overcame him each time he looked at his son flooded in again.
At eight months old, Nathan was a chubby little man with piercing blue eyes and a head of thick, raven hair. He looked exactly like his father with no traits from his mother. That pissed Sadie off, the fact that Nathan took nothing from her, except to make her “fat and unattractive”.
“Hear that,” he whispered, as he heard another crashing sound. “Mommy’s wreaking havoc because of you.”
Nathan just glared up at him. Another thing: since this little boy was born, he never smiled. Ever. It was frightening to most people, but Natalio loved he was such an intimidating little thing at eight months.
Nathan’s hands were perpetually fisted and he never, ever kicked or wiggled about like normal babies. Most of the time, he was still and quiet, far from a nuisance. The only time he made any noise was when he was hungry. He would open his mouth wide and let out one long, unwavering shriek until his mother’s breast was in his mouth.
He didn’t drink from bottles, and he accepted no kind of infant formulas whatsoever. That sucker forced the bottle out with his tongue, narrowing his eyes, and shrieking like a motherfucker until he got the real deal — Sadie’s breast. Yet another thing that pissed Sadie off; she couldn’t go anywhere without him because of that.
Everyone thought him to be a strange little baby, but Natalio loved him to pieces.
As he trailed an idle finger down his son’s cherub cheek, Nathan reached up and latched on to it, not letting go. Natalio leaned back into the armchair and let him hold on to his finger, sighing contentedly.
He’d waited forever for Sadie to give him this, this little bundle, this little piece of joy. She refused to have a child until he gave up his need to maneuver all his businesses simultaneously, a controlling need rendering him absent from home quite a bit.
He wanted a family. He wanted this son. So between work and family, he chose her. Their family. And he was glad he did. Pissed he hadn’t done it sooner. Because he never, in all his life, felt so settled, peaceful, unstressed, and downright content. He loved being home, close to his child and his wife. So he worked a lot from home now, having meetings via Skype and only leaving when he had to. That made Sadie an extremely happy woman, and that’s all he ever wanted.
To make his wife happy.
Minutes passed by, and Nathan still held on to Natalio’s forefinger. He also noticed the clanking and clanging had quieted. Not long after, he heard stiletto heels clicking down the hall and doors opening and closing. His wife had finally calmed down and was searching the house for him.
Nathan’s room door opened, and Sadie popped her head in. Finding his hiding place, she pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.
Natalio’s heart shifted in his chest.
Christ, it never grows hoary.
Wasn’t this schoolboy, heart-pounding feeling supposed to die a brutal death or fade into indifference after spending years with the same woman? Wasn’t his lust switch supposed to be turned off by now, especially after witnessing his son’s head being forced out of her? Wasn’t he supposed to be like, “eh, that’s just my wife, whatever” after going to sleep with her every night, waking up next to her every morning, seeing her every day?
That’s what the world says. What divorced couples say. What people who are miserable in their relationships say.
But with his wife, there was none of that. His heart still beats a million thuds a minute — as it was doing at the moment — whenever he saw her. Especially when she was dressed like this.
Sadie was breathtakingly beautiful in a flowing red gown clinging to her curves like leeches, a long split traveling up her right thigh. Her hips were wider now, rounder, which made her slim waist all the more pronounced. Her full breasts filled out the deep V at the front of her dress perfectly — seeking his attention. A wild mess as usual, her honey-brown hair flowed around her shoulders and down her back in a riot of curls. He really loved when she straightened her hair, but the curls were just as much of a turn on.
“I scared you off again, huh?” she said, flashing him a sheepish smile as she walked up to him.
“Just steering clear of flying missiles, that’s all.”
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry … ”
“It’s okay, baby,” he assured her. “You can have as many hissy fits as you want. It doesn’t bother me. I know how to get out of range.”
Dropping her hands from her face, she looked at him with sheer determination. “I’m going to start working out with you in the mornings, and go on a diet, and stop eating, oh God, pizza.”
Natalio had heard it all before, but when he woke her up in the mornings to go down to the basement gym with him, she would always start singing a different tune. He wanted her to be comfortable with her body, but it was all up to her. For him, it didn’t matter if she was slim or curvy, he loved her both ways. “Okay.”
Her eyes squinted at him. “You don’t believe me, don’t you?”
“What?” he asked innocently. “All I said was ‘okay’.”
“I know you don’t believe me.”
Shifting Nathan — who still hadn’t let go of his finger — to the crook of his left arm, Natalio wrapped his free hand around his wife’s wrist and pulled her down onto the right side of his lap. “Don’t curse me out for saying this, but
, baby, you look absolutely gorgeous right now. You keep taking my breath away like this, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll live.”
Her features arranged in a scowl. “I’m fat!”
“You’re sexy.”
“My face is chubby.”
“You’re beautiful, and I love you.”
He leaned in and kissed her, meaning for it to be short and soft, but it morphed into something more, something deep, something waking the third person in the middle of his lap.
At the sound of a giggle, they both froze, lips still melded together. Nah, that wasn’t a giggle; it couldn’t be. Natalio shook it off and resumed kissing his wife, thinking how much he wanted to throw her up against a wall for a quick explosion before leaving for the dinner. As Sadie greedily dug her fingers in his hair and started kissing him deeper, the giggle sounded again.
Both freezing again, they slowly turned their heads to the left where Nathan was resting in the crook of his daddy’s arm with a toothless grin on his face. A grin!
“Oh my God, is he … ?”
“Yes, go get your camera, cellphone, whatever!” Natalio said quickly.
Sadie leaped off his lap and rushed out of the room, but by the time she came back with her cellphone, Nathan had returned to his usual glaring. This little dude was peculiar, to say the least.
“You think it’s because we were kissing?” Sadie asked, looking disappointed she didn’t get Nathan’s first smile on camera. “We’ve never done that in front of him before.”
Natalio shrugged. “Could be.” Grasping her wrist, he yanked her back down on his lap. “Let’s try again.”
Their lips met in a kiss again, and, yes, the giggle came again. Sadie pulled back and turned to snap a picture with her cellphone, but Nathan’s grin disappeared in a flash.
“Ughh!” she growled in frustration.
Natalio laughed. “I guess we’ll have to take the picture while we’re kissing. Angle the camera towards him and just snap when you hear him giggle. Trick his ass.”
They began kissing again, and when the giggle sounded this time around, instead of parting, they kept kissing while Sadie awkwardly snapped photos of Nathan until she felt she had enough shots. The second their lips parted, Nathan stopped giggling, his face serious.
Sadie jumped off Natalio’s lap, pointed a finger at her son, and said, “My God, our baby is a frickin’ pervert! Just when I thought he couldn’t get any weirder!”
Natalio laughed so hard, his stomach hurt. For the first time, he had to agree Nathan was a strange one.
Nathan stared at his mother long and hard and suddenly opened his little mouth and shrieked. Sadie rushed over to scoop him up, and in a second, Nathan suckled at her breast.
Pushing up from the armchair, Natalio wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder, still grinning, until Nathan’s blue eyes shifted to him, his mouth eagerly suckling his mother. The way the kid was staring at him, though, made him frown a bit. It’s like he was saying, “Back off, fucker. It’s my turn now.”
It was in that moment Natalio understood what others meant when they said Nathan was scary, because, sure as shit, his eight month old baby was scaring him a bit.
“Marcello’s gonna have a shit hemorrhage,” Sadie said.
With a quick glance at his Rolex, Natalio noted they had less than fifteen minutes to get to the dinner. “Oh Shit.”
Arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, Natalio propelled Sadie out of the room, retrieving his keys along the way as they bustled out of their house.
Nathan was still suckling his mother without pause as they climbed into his Hummer and sped off.
Marcello was going to blow his shit.
Love & Axia
“…so Daddy said, ‘if you have lunch with me, I’ll quit your class’. But what Mommy didn’t know was Daddy planned on charming her.”
“Like with fairy dust?”
Lovello chuckled. “Yeah, something like that. So, Mommy caved and went to lunch with Daddy and fell instantly in love with him, saying, ‘Oh, Love, you are the most perfect, handsome, amazing man ever. Please, please, please make me your wife, and I’ll make you lots and lots of banana fritters. Te amo, Te amo. Me love you long time.”
From somewhere nearby, Lovello heard Axia scoff, “Oh, please!”, but he ignored it and continued, “So, like a boss, Daddy shrugged and said, ‘Well, okay, if you want to marry me that bad, have at it — because Daddy loved banana fritters, you see. So — ’”
Axia barged into the living room with narrowed pussycat-gray eyes and flaring nostrils, her protruding pregnant stomach stretching the slinky material of a remarkable emerald-green cocktail gown. Stunning. “Stop lying to her!”
“I’m bonding with my daughter here,” Lovello said, waving her off. “Do you mind?”
“That not wut I was told, Daddy,” Lovette said, shaking her head wildly, her ringlets of jet-black curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Uncle Twev said Mommy was the … the ul … um … ulteeemayte bitch.”
Jaw dropping, eyes widening, Lovello gaped. “Lovely, honey, that’s a very bad word. Don’t ever use it again, okay?”
Lovette’s bright gray eyes stretched wide, the way they usually did whenever she thought she was in trouble — and she got into trouble quite often because she was a peppery brat like her mother.
“I’m very sorry, Daddy. I won’t use the bad word again.” Nose wrinkling, she asked, “What-what about shit?”
Lovello felt like he was about to have an apoplexy. He could hear Axia trying to stifle a laugh.
“No!” he blasted, a little too harshly. “Where did you hear these words, Lovely?”
“Uncle Twev,” she said simply. “He says those are good bad words. But he says I should never say foo … um, fuque, because that is a bad, bad word.”
“Oh Jesus Christ!” he blasted again, jolting up straight in the sofa where he’d been indolently sprawled with Lovette on his lap. “No, Lovely, you should never, ever say fuque, or bitch or shit. None of those words are good words, got that?”
Lovette nodded, looking a bit terrified.
Fuming, he turned his glare to Axia and gritted out, “He’s not allowed to come anywhere near my daughter again.”
Axia rolled her eyes. “He’s your brother, and he’s her uncle. You can’t keep him away from her.”
“Well then, I’m going to kill him.”
“No, Daddy, no!” Lovette screamed. Then she immediately burst into tears. “Please don’t kill uncle Twev, Daddy. I luv him. He lets me mix the batter for the chocolate chip cookies and … and he names his sweet vanilla ice-cweam Princess Lovely. I have my own ice-cweam!” Lovette clung to him and cried harder, her face pressed into his arm, soaking his suit jacket with her tears. “Please, please don’t kill my uncle Twev.”
Taken aback, Lovello cast a sheepish glance over to Axia who was full on scowling at him. “Why would you say something like that in front of her when you know Trev’s her favorite person?”
Because I didn’t know she would erupt into a blubbering mess?
Cupping his daughter’s face and wiping her tears away with his thumbs, he assured her, “I’m not going to kill Uncle Trev, Lovely. I promise.”
Adorable as ever, she sniffled as she nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so, so much, Daddy, for not killing my Uncle Twev. Luv you.”
“Rosa!” Axia bellowed, sounding a little miffed.
Rosa was there the next minute eyeing Axia with a worried expression, no doubt thinking she was probably going into labor with the way she bellowed her name. “Miss Blacksille, everything fine?”
“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand to Lovette. “Please, can you take Lovely upstairs and clean up her face? We’re going to be late for the Thanksgiving dinner, and her jackass of a father just reduced her to tears.”
“Sure, Miss Blacksille,” Rosa nodded and went to retrieve Lovette.
Lovello didn’t want to let go of his daughter; he wanted to sit wit
h her and continue telling her fabricated stories. But Axia was right, they should’ve left for the dinner already, and here they were, loafing around.
Once Lovette and Rosa were out of the living room, Axia cast him an odd glance as she glided across the room and carefully sat down next to him on the sofa. “I need to talk to you about something … ”
Oh shit.
Lovello drew in a panicky breath. Axia Talks were rare, and they almost never ended well. She was that unpredictable kind of woman: he could never tell what she would do or say next. She was volatile, turbulent, bitchy, with a sprinkle of sweet softness, and a full dose of solid commitment.
Axia Blacksille, the woman he loved more than his next breath. The said breath he was holding now, fearing what was going to come out of her mouth.
You see, five years had passed, Lovette was grown and snarky like her mother, and Axia was still his fiancée. Nope, they never got married, because she was still trying to see “how things flow”. Even though they were going strong, growing more and more obsessed with each other, getting even closer and becoming one … it wasn’t enough for her to give him a wedding date.
He’d given up on the prospect of them ever getting married, and had taken a different route instead to secure her as his.
Taking drastic measures, he paid off Marian, her doctor, a generous sum to inform him of Axia’s ovulating days. Getting Marian to do that wasn’t facile per se, but money, money had unlimited power.
With that bought information, whenever she ovulated, he made sure to have sex with her as often as possible, hard, deep and penetrative, so his latent Nelsons would surely break through her egg. Then, he watched and waited. It took a couple of tries, a descent wait, until one day he heard those sweet, soothing words, “Love, I’m pregnant.”
Work well done.
If she didn’t want to get married, he intended to keep her knocked up so she’d never leave him. He wanted her secured, tied down to him. Losing Axia was his greatest fear, and he didn’t have the bond of marriage to assuage those fears. He feared losing her.