by Jewel E. Ann
“As I’m sure you both already know, Cal left detailed instructions with regards to his funeral. However, one of his wishes was to have a closed casket.”
Nana and I share another look, this one says: Who really gives a shit? Okay, that may be mine, but Nana’s is at least “get on with it, bitch, you’re wasting our time.”
Rachel stands looking at us with her hands on her hips like she’s waiting for us to what? Gasp? Scream in protest?
“Christ! Would you get to the point?” Nana sighs in exasperation.
I cough to hide my amusement. Nana’s just too funny.
Rachel’s Botox lips make a sorry attempt to pull into a firm line. “My point is I’m coming out with a men’s line of formal wear in less than a month and it would be absurd to not have Cal wearing one of my designs!”
“So dress him in your suit. You don’t need our permission for that.” I roll my eyes, even if it is disrespectful and rude.
“That’s my point!” She grinds out the words, but no matter how growly she sounds, her point is still out of my radar of comprehension. “I’m not going to have him wear my new design if nobody’s going to see him!”
My stomach and chest ache from holding in the impending laughter dying to escape. Nana’s right, Rachel is batshit crazy.
“Well … dear … then leave the lid up,” Nana says with admirable control as I bite my lips together.
“I can’t, not without consent from both of you. Changes can only be made if there’s unanimous agreement among the three of us.”
“You have our blessing.” Nana has donned her kid gloves to talk motherese with Rachel and it’s laugh-out-loud hysterical.
Rachel grabs her coat and marches to the front door. “Fine, then. Duncan will be calling you both for your consent. The funeral is Thursday at eleven.”
She slams the front door and we fall into a fit of laughter. I’ll give Duncan, my father’s attorney, my consent on this deathly important matter, but it won’t be without conflict. I’m stuck in the middle. Part of me wants to piss off my father, wherever he may be, by letting his wife dress his corpse like a mannequin and put it on display against his wishes. Then there’s the other part of me that wants to deny Rachel this, just because it’s so much fun watching her have her little tantrums.
*
Wednesday evening we spend at the visitation where I try to channel a few of the emotions I had the night we arrived so I can play the part of the grieving daughter. The problem is I already used up my initial shock and now I’m settled into the orphaned child role that I’d become accustomed to over the years.
If anything, my biggest challenge is fighting off an untimely case of the giggles as I have to listen to Rachel describe to everyone how the suit my father’s wearing brings out the natural warm hues of his skin. Maybe it’s my medical background, but I’d always assumed once all the blood was drained from the human body the skin no longer had “warm natural hues.”
“Can I get you anything?” Trick whispers in my ear, pressing his body to my back.
“Aside from out of here?” I say through clenched teeth behind my fake smile that’s just big enough to say thank you for coming but not too big to overshadow my expected grief.
“I love you.” He kisses the top of my head and steps back. I don’t think he’s as immune to Rachel’s icy glare as I am. And for whatever she’s-so-damn-bat-shit-crazy reason, she keeps looking behind us to make sure he’s in the shadows and not lurking too close to her.
“Hey, Darby.”
I look left to a familiar voice and smile when I see Jade and several other ER nurses waiting to pay their respects. For the first time all evening I tear up and it has nothing to do with my father. I’m just beside myself with emotion that they came here for me.
“Hey.” I hug each one of them and wipe my tears … tears they’ll never know are for their kindness.
By the end of the night at least a dozen other nurses, PAs, and doctors come through the line. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I have become so paranoid of judgment in my life that I act preemptively and judge other people first.
Life lesson learned.
*
There’s a somberness in the air when we arrive home from the visitation. I think the exhaustion of traveling, dealing with the adrenaline of the events at the hospital, and now a long visitation is catching up with us.
“Tamsen and I are going out for a drink.” Grady winks at me and Trick as we get out of the back of his car. “We’ll be back in let’s say … two hours?”
Trick nods to Grady, and Tamsen grins, waving at me through the passenger window.
“Come.” Trick takes my hand, pulling me toward the elevator while Grady and Tamsen back out of the garage.
“Did you tell them to give us time alone? For sex?”
Trick chuckles as we step off the elevator. Then he takes my jacket. “Grady’s itching to go out so he’s using us as his excuse.” He pulls me into his arms. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to have sex.”
I nod once, wrapping my arms around him. We did just get back from my father’s visitation, and I haven’t slept that well. Exhaustion is an understatement, but do I like that Trick’s taking sex off the table? No!
“I’m going to change and brush my teeth.” He releases me and walks toward the bathroom.
I watch him, admiring the way his white dress shirt hugs his shoulders. I slip out of my dress and walk around the corner into the bathroom wearing just my black panties and strapless bra. Trick spits toothpaste into the sink and wipes his mouth as I start brushing my teeth. Glancing up at his reflection in the mirror, I catch his eyes perusing the length of my body as he unbuttons his shirt. When he shrugs it off his shoulders, I make a quick spit before I either choke on it or swallow it down.
Turning, I rest my hands on the edge of the vanity and lean back against them. Trick unfastens his dress pants, letting them fall to the floor before stepping out of them and removing his socks. I wet my lips. My eyes take in the artistic terrain I’ve come to love and crave. It takes a few moments for me to realize he’s standing still. I shift my eyes to his face.
He’s trying not to look cocky, but failing. “You’re staring.”
“I am.” I grin.
“Because?” He moves closer.
I stand straight, resting my hands on his chest. “Because I can.”
His hands slide up my sides and around my back, unclasping my bra. It falls to our feet.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Admiring my beautiful wife…” his lips brush along my jaw to my ear “…because I can.”
Chapter Forty-Five
I buried my father today—no tears, no pain. Even now, the only emotion I recognize is guilt. I must have had an allotted number of tears for him, and I used them all up the other night. The pathetic part … I actually tried to think of something sadder than my father’s death to draw out a few. My lack of emotion garnered more attention than Rachel’s Hollywood worthy act of grief. I’m pretty certain she squirted something in her eyes to get them to water so damn much.
“Nana?” Trick asks as my phone chimes with a text.
“Nope. Rachel.” I shake my head then stare back out the window, entranced by the mesmerizing sparkle of Chicago’s skyline coming into view against the descending darkness. “We left her, the grieving widow, thirty minutes ago and she’s already demanding I find time to get my father’s stuff from the house we just left and her penthouse in New York.” I laugh. “Unbelievable. He was her husband. Why doesn’t she deal with his shit? Does she honestly think I’m going to find some precious, sentimental memento that I can’t live without?”
“Tell her to go fuck herself.”
I chuckle. Maybe I’m not Darby the Doormat anymore, but I’m not quite Fuck Off Trick Roth either. “If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that there’s a part of me that’s curious what my father has hidden in his closets. Even one picture of my mom that I have
n’t seen before would make it worth my time, so…” I glance over at Trick “…looks like I’m going to New York.”
He sucks in a slow breath and releases it with equal control.
“I don’t expect you to go. You can stay here or go back to Todos Santos. I would understand.”
He nods, twisting his lips to the side. “When are you going?”
“Well, I don’t want to drag this out, so I’ll probably go through his stuff here tomorrow then fly out on Saturday, then either back here or home on Sunday depending on where you’re going to be.”
“Where do you want me to be?” he asks as we pull into the garage.
With me.
I shrug. “I know you were in the middle of a drawing before we left for Chicago, so if Grady and Tamsen are leaving in the morning, maybe you should head home too,” I say while opening the door.
Trick takes my heels that I slipped off in the car, my coat, and purse in one hand then helps me out with his other. In spite of his constant reminders that he is not a sweep-you-off-your-feet prince charming with refined manners and censored speech, everyday he does something … the smallest gesture … that shows me he’s becoming my gentleman. And right now he’s doing it—carrying my belongings in one hand and leading me with his other. I feel loved, cherished, and utterly adored. Best. Feeling. Ever!
*
When Tamsen finds out about my trip to New York, she changes her flight to go back with me on Saturday. Then she offers to go with me to Barrington Hills to sort through my father’s personal items while Trick takes Grady to the airport.
“So you’re going to pack up all of his suits and things…” Tamsen holds up a Cubs Jersey like it’s going to bite her “…and do what with it?”
I riffle through the drawers in his walk-in closet. “I’m not packing up shit. Rachel can deal with his clothes. I’m just looking for anything from my past or my mother’s—photos, jewelry, sentimental items. Although I’m not holding out much hope that we’ll find anything like that. I don’t think Calvin Carmichael was into scrapbooking or had a cedar chest filled with ancestral relics.”
Tamsen dives into drawers on the opposite side, even checking coat and jacket pockets hanging above her. “What’s this?”
I turn as she holds up a necklace with a heart pendant, diamond letters “LC” in the middle. “Where’d you find this?” I take it from her, running my thumb across the diamonds.
“It was under these silk handkerchiefs.” She points to the drawer. “Do you recognize it?”
I nod. “From the picture of my mom on her wedding day. She was wearing it. Nana said my father gave it to her as a wedding gift.”
“LC?”
“Lucille Carmichael,” I whisper.
“I’m surprised he didn’t give it to you.”
I shake my head in slow disbelief. “After he and Rachel got married, I asked him for it, but he said it got lost in the move.”
“So he lied?”
“Yes, but … I don’t understand why. Maybe he did misplace it and later found it, but forgot to say something.”
Tamsen laughs. “God, I love your innocence.”
I slip it in my pocket. “You mean my ignorance or naïveté.” I shake my head. “I just keep trying to see what my mom must have seen in him.”
We spend the next two hours going through his stuff, but end up leaving everything behind except the necklace.
*
As soon as we get back, Tamsen leaves to meet an old friend from college for a few drinks since deciding to stay in Chicago for another night. She invites me to go, and as tempting as a girls’ night out is for this girl, I decline.
“Giving up on a night with Tamsen for me, huh?” Trick grins, looking up from his computer screen at the counter.
“Yes, so don’t make me regret it.” I slip off my boots and hug his back. “Did you decide to stay or fly home?”
“Home. I’ll dive into my work…” he turns to me “…then when you get there I’ll take a couple days off to get a long wife fix.”
I tease my fingers through the nape of his hair. “So your Darby fix has turned into a wife fix, huh?”
“Yes. It’s pathetic, I can never get enough.”
I nod, rubbing my lips together, eyes perusing my badass, tatted husband. “Take your shirt off.”
He raises a single brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I grin.
And then it begins with that single, barely noticeable lip twitch. Now that he’s mine, I welcome that cocky as fuck arrogance. Tonight it’s all I want.
He shrugs off his shirt and I stare, just waiting for the words I want to hear. I can feel his ego swelling, and as much as my hands ache to touch his painted skin … I wait.
“Enjoying the view?”
There it is … that voice I swear vibrates the most intimate parts of my body. Biting my thumbnail, I meet his gaze and nod.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
God! It just keeps getting better.
Another nod.
He smirks.
“Pants off.”
He stands, unfastening his jeans. “As you wish.”
I don’t instruct him to take off his briefs, but I don’t complain when he does. I’m too mesmerized by his arousal.
“Now what, sexy?” He’s so comfortable in his skin, confidence dripping from every inch of his flesh.
I twist my lips to the side, a slight squint to my eyes. Holding up a “wait” finger, I retrieve my robe tie from the bathroom. As I walk back out to the kitchen, Trick’s eyes home in on the tie in my hand.
“Husband.” I give him a wicked grin.
“Wife,” he says with slow apprehension in his voice, eyes flitting between mine and the tie.
“Ever been tied up, Mr. Roth?” I tilt my head to the side.
Fucking lip twitch. I love it!
“Not … that I recall.”
“You up for a little fun?”
“Bring it on, sexy.”
“Come.” I turn and drag the rug by his bed over to the large steel beam in the middle of the room. “Lie down.”
Trick grins and obeys.
I bring his arms above his head and tie them together, then secure them to the beam.
“My wife’s a kinky little temptress.”
I nod slowly while stripping for him. “Do you have any idea how much I appreciate you taking care of me over the past few days?”
His eyes fall to my breasts that spring free as I remove my bra, but I leave on my pink lace panties. “I think so.” He swallows.
Kneeling, I straddle his legs. “Well, tell me when you know how much I appreciate you.” I lean forward, running my tongue up the entire length of his erection.
“Fuck, Darby …”
I grin just before taking him in my mouth, teasing him until his hips begin to jerk off the floor.
I look up as he looks down, lips parted, eyes squinted, and arm muscles flexed, tugging against the restraint. No warning needed, he knows by now that I’ll take everything he gives me. After a few long minutes of my mouth, lips, and tongue paying homage to the best husband ever, he grunts, “Fuck!” releasing into my mouth.
After taking every last drop, I smile, licking my lips. “Do you feel appreciated, husband?”
Breathless, he nods with a relaxed grin. There’s a couple seconds of unmistakable vulnerability in a guy’s eyes right after he loses control from the touch of a woman. Priceless!
I sit up, crawling to the top of his body. “Good. Now, I’m feeling a little neglected. Think you could help a girl out?” Straddling his face, he wets his lips as I lean forward, grabbing the steel beam with my hands while lowering to his mouth. I moan just from the feel of his hot breath against my lace panties. Making him work for it is half the pleasure as he licks and sucks the wet crotch of my panties.
“I’m so fucking hungry for you.” The deep voice takes me from wet to drenched.
“Trick …” I breath out
his name as my heart rate escalates. Circling my hips as his teeth tug the thin material to the side, I drop my chin and watch his tongue lap a slow stroke up my bare sex. “Oh. My. God …” I swallow hard as his eyes meet mine, a grin pulling at his lips.
“Shit!” I hug the beam for support, pulling up to my feet, knees weak. “Tamsen! She’s coming!” I whisper with panic as the clank of the elevator sounds on its assent. I race to the bathroom to grab my robe, that won’t stay closed because my tie is being used for—shit! My naked husband, still tied up and sprawled out on the rug doesn’t so much as show a flinch of concern for his state of exposure.
“You pulled too tight, I can’t get the knot undone,” I whisper, hands shaking.
“And that’s my fault?” Trick raises one smug eyebrow.
“Crap!” I grab a blanket from the couch and cover his body with it just as the elevator screeches to a halt. “You’re back early?” I smile, holding my robe closed as Tamsen steps off the elevator.
Her brow wrinkles as she looks me over then glances around. “Yeah, my friend, Debra, her husband called because their daughter was running a fever so we ended it early. Uh … where’s Trick.”
“Naked under this blanket and tied to the beam.” My skin flushes at the sound of Trick’s unwelcome voice.
Tamsen cups her mouth with her hand and tries to hold back her laughter but fails. “You two are … quite the pair.”
I grimace. “I’m so sorry I didn’t think you’d—”
Tamsen shakes her head, holding up her hand. “It’s fine. I’m just going to…” she points to the stairs” …go sleep in Grady’s bed. Goodnight.”
I close my eyes, releasing a heavy sigh. She must think we’re the kinkiest couple ever.
“Am I done being your dirty little secret?”
My eyes pop open. In coping with my embarrassment, Trick still naked and restrained somehow slipped my mind. “Not one more word.” I flip the blanket off his head and work to get the knots undone.
“What did I do?” He rubs his wrists while I slip the tie through my robe loops.
“You—you got me all…” I wave my hand in the air “…worked up and then I wasn’t thinking clearly. Then you just had to let Tamsen know where you were—”