For Life

by L. E. Chamberlin

  “I’m so sorry,” I blurt when he answers. “I was on my way… Jai called and said I had to get here immediately and he sounded weird. And then I got here and I couldn’t call or text. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I called and texted and when you didn’t respond I drove by your office and saw all the cars,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re okay. My first thought was that something happened to you.” There’s a tightness in his voice, and I realize how careless I was considering he just lost his brother to a car accident.

  I’m an asshole. "I’m so sorry, Grady, I was in a panic, and—”

  “Cass. Really, it’s okay. I’m disappointed, but it’s okay.”

  “I’m disappointed, too,” I murmur. “I was really looking forward to—”

  “Later,” he interrupts. “We’ll talk later, yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  “Bye, Cass.” He disconnects abruptly, leaving me completely reeling.

  This is not going as planned.

  Sighing, I power on my computer and settle in for the afternoon. I’m already here, might as well check my e-mails and see what mail I’ve missed this week. Not to mention process the crazy meeting that just wrecked my entire morning.

  Our board president, Skip Malick, was just arrested for an affair with one of the university students. While the girl is now of legal age (barely), the affair started when she was sixteen. He’s a married man and supposed pillar of the community - with two daughters the same age as the girl he was involved with. Now he’s been suspended from all of his classes and the scandal is about to sweep through our community. Madeline was livid in our meeting.

  “Thinking with the wrong goddamn head,” she’d thundered in the meeting, color rising in her perfectly made-up cheeks. “And now our entire organization will be dragged into his unsavory mess. We don’t need to be tainted by his behavior.” She’d already set up interviews with several local media outlets to take an offensive stance toward the inevitable public outcry.

  But there are a ton of issues that still need to be addressed, and now they’ve all fallen squarely in my lap. First, Skip’s wife, Julie Malick, has been head of our gala committee for years, and now she’s out, with four months to go till our biggest fundraising event of the year. We’re in crunch time with no one to head the gala preparations. I honestly don’t even know what still needs to be done, because Julie took care of everything. Second, there was a long voice mail from Karen’s husband, essentially saying that he doesn’t think she’s going to be strong enough to come back to work - something he doesn’t want the board to know yet. So I am in a truly difficult position, because they need to know this, and they need to know it yesterday. And third, if Karen’s out, then I need to make my case for sliding into her position, which means I not only need to convince Dragon Lady that I can do Karen’s job, but I also need to convince her to open a search for my position. I cannot face the next year alone, not even with Jai’s help.

  These things aren’t as urgent as a sex scandal, but they’re pretty damn critical. Not to mention time-consuming. Both kids have a lot going on and the holidays are coming. I won’t have time to take a breath.

  And then there’s Grady. He was irritated with me, and now I’m irritated with him. He has no idea what I’m up against. He has no idea how this morning’s revelations have just thrown a giant monkey wrench into my life.

  Meanwhile, I’m going to need him to help out more with the kids. I’ve never asked for his help, not once since we split, as a point of pride. I’ve paid sitters, I’ve enlisted the help of friends, I’ve even brought them to work with me on occasion, but I have never called Grady for help with our kids. But now maybe that’s appropriate.

  Or is it?

  I need to talk to someone. I send an e-mail to Dr. Gaul, since she never answers her phone during office hours. I need some coffee and a good stretch. And I need to make some lists. My head is like an aviary, with more squawking and shrieking than I can make sense of without paper and pen.

  It’s an hour later when my phone chirps and I read Grady’s message. Busy? Lunch?

  Busy. But not too busy, I text back.

  — Want me to bring something or do you want to meet me?

  — I’ll meet you. Towne’s in half an hour?

  — See you then.

  At the thought of seeing him, all my earlier feelings rush back in. I feel his words, low and delicious, in every cell of my body: I want you in my bed tomorrow. It’s like being seventeen again - the second I think of him, my mind starts cranking out butterflies and unicorns and everything unpleasant gets a bit hazy.

  But I don’t have time for that. I don’t have time to get wrapped up in some sex haze with Grady, no matter how irresistible that thought is. I need to focus so I can start crossing things off my very long list. He’s just going to have to understand.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Grady

  She’s wound tight as a drum as she tells me about the emergency meeting and her new board president. It sounds like she’s about to get wrapped up in a clusterfuck that could take months to sort out. And she’s going to work like a dog with very little to show for it. She shouldn’t have to beg for the director’s position - she’s already earned it. She’s been doing it for months now - without any extra pay - and they should be begging her to stay with them. But I suspect they know Cassie well enough to understand her sense of responsibility, and the fact that they’re exploiting that makes me furious.

  Right about now I hate her job. It kept her out of my bed today, and it sounds as if it's not going to be the last time that happens. She keeps rubbing her eyebrow, fiddling with her napkin, fussing with her phone. She stopped fidgeting for about two seconds to place her lunch order, but that’s it.

  “Hey.”

  She looks up at me.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  She nods, but she doesn’t believe a damn word I’m saying. I take her fingers in mine, and that’s when she finally settles a bit. I trace the creases in her palm and she closes her eyes and just breathes.

  “How can I help?” I ask softly, and her eyes fly open. She looks surprised.

  “Help?” she repeats.

  “Yeah, help.”

  “The kids…”

  “Of course, the kids. That goes without saying. What can I do for you, though?”

  She stares at me for a minute. “I don’t…” When she stops speaking she looks down at our hands.

  “Can I cook dinner a couple nights a week?”

  “For the kids?”

  She really isn’t getting this. “For all of us.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flush, but her eyes fix on me, curious. “You cook?”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask. “I’ve been living on my own for over ten years. I would’ve starved to death by now. Of course I cook. In fact, why don’t I cook tonight?”

  “Tonight? Oh… I didn’t think we were…”

  She trails off and I realize my mistake. I’d laugh if we weren’t both in shitty moods. “So you were planning to be in my bed all day and then just go home tonight like nothing happened?”

  “Not exactly,” she says defensively. “I just figured that maybe afterward you might… I don’t know… Want some space?”

  “Why the hell would I want space from you?”

  “I don’t know!” she cries, pulling her hand from mine. “Maybe because you’re a guy and that’s what guys do. Maybe because this is new. Maybe because you don’t know what you want.”

  “I know exactly what I want,” I growl.

  “Well I don’t!” she fires back.

  A lead balloon sits in the middle of my chest. I try again. “Cass. I know everything is new. But I thought we agreed last night that we were going to give this a shot. Me and you.”

  “The operative word, Grady, is ‘new.’ If we were just dating and didn’t have two kids together, I would not be making you cook me dinner. You would not be at my house every night. We w
ould’ve had sex today and then maybe seen each other in a few days, when thing slow down.”

  “Well, sounds like I should be glad we dated in the nineties, then.” The words are out before I can second-guess them, and Cassie glares at me. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny. But Cass, come on. I’m not a stranger. We used to do this every day.”

  She laughs bitterly. “Oh my God, you are rewriting history. We did not do this every day. In fact, I don’t even remember you being around every day when we were married.”

  A low blow, and even though it’s partly true, it’s also a shitty thing to say. She knows it, too, because when her eyes finally meet mine they’re apologetic.

  “Sorry,” she says finally. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “No, it wasn’t. And you either forgive me or you don’t. But you can’t say you forgive me and then throw the past in my face every time you get pissed off.”

  “I know.” She’s quick to reply. “I’m sorry. I’m just freaked out about everything.”

  I take both her hands and draw them across the table. I fold my hands around hers and squeeze. “Let. Me. Help. You.”

  She nods, but then the waitress appears with our food and Cassie lets go.

  After our meal, when I walk her to her car, she allows me to fold her into my arms and hold her, just for a minute. When she pulls back I keep hold of her waist and brush a soft kiss across her mouth. She sighs and nestles back into me.

  “In some ways it’s harder,” she says, and I know exactly what she’s talking about. “Are we just really stupid?”

  “No.” I resist the urge to tell her this isn’t stupidity, it’s love. “We’re not being stupid. And we’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay, Grady, I believe you.”

  Grady

  “So you weren’t kidding. You can actually cook.” She sips her wine and sighs softly as I knead one of her bare feet.

  “I cook. I give foot rubs. I’m the whole package.” I smirk at her and she smacks me lightly.

  “You are the whole package,” she agrees dreamily, gazing at me, her head propped against the back of the couch.

  “Maybe too much wine?” I tease.

  “No, come on,” she laughs. “You’re smart and talented and good-looking. You have a great job. You make beautiful babies. You’re good in bed.”

  “Speaking of that…” I slide my hand up her ankle, then cup her calf inside her pajama bottoms. She gives me a look.

  “The kids are still awake and I get that we’re not having sex tonight,” I say. “But surely we can make out quietly on the couch for a bit.”

  Her mouth curves up at the corners. “You’re naughty.”

  “You just told me I'm good in bed,” I grin, tugging her onto my lap. "A man can't resist that kind of sexual flattery." Cass settles on me, her knees on either side of my hips, and her heat through the thin material of her pajamas makes my cock stir. I cup the back of her head and bring her mouth down to mine.

  Our kiss last night wasn’t sweet and neither is this one. It takes about five minutes before she’s writhing on my lap. My hand is inside her pajama top, cupping one of her breasts over her bra. My dick feels like iron and I’m not even touching her bare flesh.

  I work her bra down so it’s underneath the soft swell of her tit. Then I lift her pajama top and duck my head, drawing one stiff, rosy nipple between my lips. She gasps softly and arches so it pushes further into my mouth. I respond by working my hips so that the ridge of my cock is rubbing steadily between her thighs as I suck and lick her nipple. When she’s shivering I pull the other cup down and pay the other breast the same attention, until both nipples are hard, wet peaks and Cassie is grinding herself down on me.

  “Wanna come, baby?” I whisper.

  She fixes dark, glossy eyes on me and forces herself to respond, “Grady, no, the kids…” I slow the rhythm of my hips and her body keeps moving even as her mouth says, “They’re right upstairs… We can’t…”

  “What do you think other parents do? Not fool around when their kids are in the same house?”

  She glares at me, and I shrug. “Okay. No orgasms. Got it.” But when she climbs off me to take her wine glass into the kitchen, I follow her. While she’s at the sink, washing out her glass, I come behind her and slide both hands into her pajama bottoms, one cupping her ass and the other finding her slick folds. She makes a little sound of protest, but I my lips brush over the back of her neck her head falls forward in defeat. I rub and stroke and tease with my fingers while she cleans that glass. Her hands are covered with suds and trembling when she finally places the soapy goblet on the counter, grips the edge of the counter, and lets me take her there. With a choked whimper, she shudders and collapses against me.

  “You’re bad,” she whispers, her head leaned back on my shoulder.

  I kiss her earlobe. “I thought I was the whole package?”

  “That was before you were naughty.”

  “Naughty would’ve been yanking down those pants and bending you over this counter. I thought I showed remarkable restraint.”

  She groans. “Why does that turn me on so much when I just came?”

  “Because,” I reply, turning her so she faces me and wrapping my arms around her. “You need more than pleasure. You can give yourself that. You need to be adored.”

  “Yes,” she sighs, closing her eyes as if to feel my words.

  I kiss her throat, right at the pulse point. “Cared for.”

  “Mmm…” She licks her lips and sighs again, softer this time.

  I nuzzle her ear. “Worshiped.”

  She turns her cheek and rubs her face against mine. I revel in the sensual feeling of our connection, Cassie soft and agreeable in the afterglow of her orgasm.

  “And then pounded so thoroughly you can’t think straight,” I growl into her hair.

  She gasps as if she’s shocked, but she grabs my face and attacks my mouth, nipping my top lip before she slides her tongue against mine. I grab a handful of her hair and hold her head steady so I can take control of her mouth. She may have initiated that kiss, but it’s not ending until I say so.

  Cass tastes like my favorite memories and moves like every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had. Her hips press against my erection, her hands slide their way into my shirt, and her nails tickle my stomach. My cock feels like it could tear my jeans apart with its next twitch, and when I see the glint in her eyes that tells me she wants to take care of my problem I groan from needing her so badly.

  But we jump apart again when we hear footsteps on the stairs. Cassie starts rinsing her glass while I hide my embarrassing condition by leaning against the kitchen island. Twice in one week, I think, gritting my teeth as my son comes into the kitchen, chattering happily about this weekend’s cross-country meet. I love you, son, but your timing sucks. As soon I can move freely without shaming myself, I start making plans to get my woman alone so she and I can make this happen without any more interruptions.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Cassie

  On Wednesday night Jai and I attend a Chamber of Commerce dinner in honor of one of our board members. It’s an important move for me, because this particular board member is one of my biggest supporters. I want the director’s position, and it can’t hurt to be seen publicly as the face of the organization. But my heart isn’t in the schmoozing, and Jai can tell.

  Jai is extremely tight-lipped about his own life, and he never pries into mine. But we have a strong, unspoken communication in our work relationship, and I know that he can tell something’s bothering me. On the drive home, he ventures, “I’m so sorry about yesterday, Cassie. I wanted to give you a heads-up, but they caught me off guard.”

  “Jai, it’s fine. Really.” I smile at him, but his forehead is still crinkled.

  “We have an honest rapport, and that’s important to me. So this is difficult for me to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  He frowns. “Madeline has anot
her candidate in mind for your position. She doesn’t want you as the next director. I wanted you to know, because I know how much you want that job.”

  He’s so earnest, and it’s taken him so much courage to say that to me, that I want to pull my car over and hug him. Instead I smile and say, “The Dragon Lady not wanting me for the position isn’t news. Really. She’s made it abundantly clear from day one that she doesn’t want me here.”

  “I think her choice shows exceedingly poor taste.”

  “Oh, you actually know who her choice is? Do tell.”

  When he purses his lips I amend, “Unless you feel uncomfortable saying. I don’t want you to be in a bad position. You’re good at your job, and you deserve to stay in it whether we’re working together or not.”

  Jai snorts. “I am not working with Calvin Roberts. If you go, I go.”

  “Cal Roberts? She wants Cal Roberts for my position? Is she insane?”

  Cal Roberts is a local man from a wealthy family. His extensive history of indiscretions includes a string of DUI arrests, fraud charges (which were settled out of court, although popular opinion is his father paid his way out of that), and several media gaffes. Having him as the face of our organization would be suicide. If Skip Malick is the frying pan, Cal Roberts is the fire.

  So why would she do that?

  I allow myself to ponder that all the way home. The kids are in bed when I get there - Caden listening to his iPod and Chloe reading - so I say a quick good night and hop in the shower.

  There’s a text message waiting for me when I get out.

  Good night, gorgeous girl.

  Even though I know he won’t see it until morning, I text him back. Good night, beautiful man.

  * * * *

  The next two days at work are horrendous. The Dragon Lady pops in unannounced, keeping Jai and I on edge. I have several conversations with Karen’s husband, trying delicately to convince him to let the board know that Karen won’t be coming back to work, but as it turns out it’s Karen who’s in denial. She won’t tender her resignation and she’s depressed and angry, which breaks my heart for both her and her husband.