Break Point

by Rachel Blaufeld

  I guess it wasn’t so bad. He seemed not to notice anything different as he sank into me the night before.

  I stepped into the shower and let the water rain over my hair and shoulders, grateful to be washing off work from the night before. Although I wished I didn’t have to rinse Drew off my skin. His smell kept me company as I slept for a bit last night, and I liked it way more than I cared to admit.

  It brought memories back of a hopeful Jules, one who believed everything would be fine between the coach and her. It had been a silly wish, especially after what had happened at my first school.

  Maybe that’s why Drew didn’t care what I looked like now? I’d always been damaged goods to him.

  Did he have some rescue fantasy? Was that all it was about with Darla?

  My mind ran marathons while I washed my body. The possibilities were endless, according to my overactive brain.

  By the time I’d dried off, dressed for work, and barely swallowed some food, I’d convinced myself Drew and I were headed absolutely nowhere.

  “Hey, Claire, can I see you a second?”

  Bryce caught me at the end of my shift when all I wanted to do was rush off to grab Darla. He’d been the one constant in my life, aside from her, and I owed him a lot.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “What’s new?” he asked as I entered his cramped office and leaned against the wall opposite his desk.

  “For starters, I didn’t mind working lunch. I get to spend the whole night with Darla.”

  “That’s definitely news to me.”

  “Don’t get excited; I’m not planning on doing it often. But it’s kind of cool now that Darla is turning into a real person, a little one, but still it’s awesome to just hang with her.”

  “I’m sure. You’ve done a great job with her. I love seeing it.”

  “Thanks. Was there something you needed?”

  Bryce and I had shared a drink after closing numerous times. We’d caravanned from Carolina to Florida, had even scoped out some brunch places and playgrounds with Darla in tow around our old location. But this was beginning to feel oddly personal.

  “Well, it seems like Mr. King is joining us frequently and always taking a table in your section. I wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing. To be sure you’re okay.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I didn’t ask him to come eat here. He does live in this town, and I guess he likes it here.”

  My hackles were up. I really didn’t like where this was going . . . or not going. Whatever was happening was making me incredibly uncomfortable.

  “Yes, I’m not blaming you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it, and see if you need me to intervene.”

  “Why would you intervene? He’s paying money to eat here, and tipping me too, if that’s what you were wondering.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, Claire.”

  “Jules.”

  “What? What do you mean?” He leaned forward on his desk.

  “My name is Juliette. Claire is my middle name. Before I met you, I went by Jules, but I changed it to keep Drew from finding me. I mean, Claire Smith? Can you get any blander than that?”

  This time he rocked back in his chair, eyeing me as I checked the time on my phone. All I wanted to do was pick up Darla.

  “So, that’s why no Facebook?”

  “I hate dredging up old business, which is why I don’t. I took down all my social media before meeting Drew for other reasons, and I never saw a reason to do it again. It’s a pain in the ass, and I don’t really like people all up in my business.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. Like you are right now.

  “What do you prefer I call you?”

  “Like I said, I’m going to go back to Jules. Maybe I’ll tell Darla today, if I ever get out of here.”

  “And Mr. King? I assume he knows.”

  “I understand you’re protective, Bryce, but I need to be in charge of my own life. I’ll handle Drew how I see fit. And unless it interferes with my job, I don’t think it’s any of your concern.”

  On that note, I waved good-bye and stormed out of Bryce’s office. Sure, we’d had arguments—over shift changes and schedules, or his firing of an innocent line cook—but it had never gotten personal before.

  My head hurt thinking about all the possibilities of why now?

  I’d looked forward to a fun afternoon. It didn’t seem like that was on the menu.

  Twenty minutes later, I hurried into the after-school-care classroom. “Hey, sweetie.”

  Darla looked up from a picture book. She was snuggled in a huge purple-and-green bean bag, studying a book on puppies, and looked content. For the first time today, relief flooded my body. She was doing okay.

  Darla waved and ran to put her book back on the shelf before hugging me tightly. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Ready?”

  She nodded, grabbed her tiny pink backpack, and said, “’Bye, Ms. Price.”

  Ms. Price said good-bye, smiling at me, and went back to helping a group of boys with a puzzle.

  I was loading our racquets into the trunk when my phone rang. I debated answering it, but it was him.

  Shoving my basket of tennis balls to the side, I said, “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting ready to take Dar to play tennis,” I said into the phone, standing under the shade of the trunk lid. If only it could protect my emotions.

  “Oh, great. You should go to Rocky Brook.”

  I slammed the trunk closed. “I can’t, and you know it. I’m not some kept woman or secret that you have to fund. Now.”

  “I know,” he said calmly. “You’re the mother of my child. I get it. I may have to keep saying it. That’s my punishment.”

  “What? That you have a child?” I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the phone call away.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was having to keep explaining to you that you’re not a burden or an unnecessary responsibility. I want to do it all for you and Darla. Want.”

  Smothered in shame, I apologized. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

  “I know. Never mind all that. Where are you going?”

  “To the park. Sunnyscape.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Drew—” I started, but Darla knocked on the window.

  “See you soon.”

  And that we did. Drew came sauntering down to the courts in a pair of light gray shorts and a white T-shirt, snug and fitted. His tanned legs looked more and more delectable with each step, his quads flexing. I was pretty sure his ass looked amazing too; I just couldn’t maneuver to sneak a peek from behind.

  “Drew.” Darla ran over to him. “Mommy worked lunch so we could play. Want to see?”

  “Absolutely, superstar.”

  “Mom, let’s do the volleys.” She ran back to the service line and stood in a squat with her racquet steady in front of her face.

  I wasn’t sure how I proceeded to hit lobs in the air for her with shaky hands and a swarm of butterflies in my belly, but I did. Each time, her racquet made contact with the ball, dropping it where it should go, and her eyes widened with delight.

  Drew clapped and brought his fingers to his mouth, letting out a loud whistle.

  From afar, we were a Rockwell painting on a fall evening. Up close, we were nothing close to that.

  I used up all the balls from the cage I kept in the trunk. Drew watched every single one, never interrupting or lending advice.

  When it was Darla’s time to pick up the balls, I walked over to the side of the court and grabbed my water bottle.

  “You know who’s looking hot out there?”

  I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.

  “That’s right. You.” He leaned close and breathed the words into my ear on a whisper.

  “Stop. I’m blushing. It’s like you’re the
big bad coach again.”

  “We should play later this week. You’ll kick my ass. Between the age difference and my knee, I don’t even know why I’m offering.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have the advantage.” Except I didn’t know if I was talking about tennis anymore.

  “Let me come home with you now,” he said quietly, leaning close.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?” He pushed an errant hair behind my ear, his eyes focused on me, his breath minty, his true feelings on display.

  “Because I can’t have sleepovers with Darla.”

  “I’d hardly call me a sleepover, Jules.”

  “I never even brought a man to the house on a date or otherwise, and you expect me to start doing that now? Sleeping with you in the room next to hers?”

  “Fuck yeah, but not really sleeping. We’d be quiet, of course.”

  “Drew . . .”

  “I’m worming my way back in, in every way possible. Doing it right this time. No running, no cutting corners, no hiding.”

  “I’ve been getting that, but this is too much. Darla will be confused.”

  Drew turned to Darla where she picked up the balls. “Hey, Dar, want to go for pizza and ice cream?”

  “We had dinner already. Mom made sandwiches before we came here,” my daughter yelled back.

  “So? A slice of pizza won’t kill ya. Call it a late-night snack. That’s what people do in college.”

  “Yay!” Darla jumped in the air, and all the tennis balls she’d collected rolled off her racquet face. “Oh no!” She stomped her foot and pulled her hair free, watching the balls scatter.

  “Hurry up and pick them back up,” I yelled over the net.

  “I’ll help, then we get our pizza faster,” Drew chimed in. “And then I can have time with your mom,” he whispered before rushing off.

  That’s how we ended up sitting outside on a picnic bench, his hand on my knee as Darla washed off the stickiness and jumped out her remaining energy in the fountain. True to his word, Drew took us for pizza and ice cream—the places he mentioned on our failed date.

  Over pink bubblegum ice cream, I gathered my courage and said to Darla, “You know, Dar, Claire is my middle name. My real name is Juliette.”

  “Oh, it sounds like a princess, Mommy. Juliette.” My name came out in a reverent hush.

  “So when Drew and I knew each other, he called me Jules. I started using Claire when I was a grown-up, but he still wants to call me Jules.”

  The irony didn’t escape me. I’d very much been a grown-up when Drew had knocked me up. At least, I’d thought so.

  “Maybe Drew’ll call me Katherine? Like my middle name? What’s your middle name, Drew?” She had a million questions about names and middle names. To my relief, she was completely unfazed by the name discrepancy.

  Now the library loomed against the skyline, and laid out at the bottom of the steps were those water fountains that shoot up from the ground. Darla was soaked all the way through her clothes, her hair sticking to her cheeks. She was an absolute mess and loving it.

  Seeing her made my heart beat faster, and guilt swept up my spine. I wanted this for her; I’d kept this from her.

  I was so wrapped up in my own emotional breakdown, I didn’t even bother to move Drew’s hand. I couldn’t be bothered with the spectacle he was creating in front of Darla. I was too concerned with what would happen when he ran—again.

  Was Darla’s current state of happiness worth the risk?

  “Mom, look!” She hopped on one foot through the water, her shorts absolutely sopping. She smiled and laughed and leaped again, the whole time flirting with her father. She was smitten with the very man who could make all her dreams come true.

  Or not.

  Drew

  “She’s out cold,” Jules whispered as she entered the kitchen, catching me in the middle of opening a cheap bottle of cabernet I’d found in the cabinet. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t offer you a drink when we came back. Glad you made yourself at home.”

  “This is for you.” I tipped the bottle in her direction.

  She leaned back against the counter and stared at me. “I’m not sure what to make of you being here. This is all new for me.”

  “What? Someone taking care of you? You should get used to it.”

  I located a wineglass and filled it halfway with the burgundy liquid.

  “I don’t need a caretaker,” she said as I handed over the glass.

  “I’m not suggesting that. Taking care of you is a want, not a need, when it comes to me.”

  “It’s just—”

  “No more justs or buts or becauses. Drink your wine. Go sit down, relax.” With my hand on her lower back, I led her to the sofa, then urged her to sit.

  “I’m so afraid you’re going to run again,” Jules whispered into her glass.

  “I’m not.” I knelt in front of her. “Not. Going. To. This kneeling thing’s becoming a habit. You need to understand, you’re my goddess. The queen to my king.”

  “Oh my God, Drew. Be serious. You know I don’t get into that cheese.”

  I bent and ran my nose down her thigh, scenting her skin and memorizing her musk.

  “We have to be careful. Because Darla—”

  “No more becauses, remember?”

  My lips found hers and quieted all the reasons about to spill from her mouth. I was done with them, reminding myself she was a grown woman now and could take the heat from me. She wasn’t a scared student. She hadn’t recently been burned by her teammates.

  “You’ve taken life by the horns—to borrow a trite expression—and steered yourself in the right direction.” I bit down on her lower lip and sucked in her essence. “You found your way toward me. I don’t think it was luck. It was meant to be, and now it’s my job to keep you here and happy. To help you map out the future.” I whispered the words into her ear and let them sink in while my thumb caressed her cheek.

  Relieving her of the glass, I brought it to her lips so she could sip, and then I set it on the side table.

  “I love you,” I said firmly, my hands holding her face toward me, my eyes laser-focused on hers. It wasn’t a sentimental moment. It was grave and serious. She needed to understand this. “And I loved Darla before I knew she existed. Now I can’t breathe without her. Or you.”

  Jules’s eyes filled with tears, and I watched her swallow. Hard.

  “You feel me? You get what I’m saying, Jules?”

  She nodded.

  Our mouths fused again, our kiss not ending until our lips were bruised and raw.

  I took her hand in mine and led her to her bedroom. It was the smaller room, I noticed, and hated that for her. Darla had the larger bedroom, complete with a toy chest and a kid’s desk, but a double bed against the wall was all that adorned Jules’s room.

  Inside the dark room, I closed the door. “Is this okay?”

  She nodded again.

  “You can hear Darla?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was raw with emotion.

  I slipped my hands behind her head, releasing the bun and letting her hair fall free. My lips were drawn to her neck; it was a pull stronger than the one that controlled the ocean outside.

  “Jules,” I said softly, turning her and pressing her back into the door. Taking my time lavishing the smooth skin along her collarbone, I touched the tip of my tongue to each goose bump.

  Greedily, I snatched her shirt over her head, my lips leaving her skin for a millisecond, and then they were back on her. Kissing, sucking, laving.

  I couldn’t get enough, rock hard, coming out of my skin with want.

  My hardness pushed its way toward her slight softness. My erection met her belly—the same belly that had carried my daughter. At the thought, my desire reached an all-time high.

  “Take me to bed,” Jules murmured.

  She didn’t have to beg.

  Gently, I guided her to the mattress and spread her out in
front of me. I bent and ran a hand up her calf, over her thigh, and into the back of her shorts, unable to deny myself a quick squeeze of her ass cheek. She laughed and squirmed enough for me to shimmy her shorts down. They were the kind with the panties attached, so Jules now lay in front of me, naked and pure.

  “Too many clothes on you,” she whispered.

  I shoved my legs free and lay down on top of her, careful to keep my weight on an elbow. With my free hand, I ran my length along her wetness. I wanted to slip inside, no barriers—literally and figuratively.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  “What?” I kissed along her cheekbone.

  “I want you.” A shiver ran through her body as she spoke.

  “Let me take care of you first.”

  “Later. I want to feel you now.”

  “I need to grab a condom.”

  “I’m clean, on the pill. We already had an oops; the odds are in our favor.”

  “I want you so bad,” I said, my words humming from my chest.

  “Take me.”

  And I did. Guiding myself into her heat, I felt at home for the first time in seven years. Taking my time, I stilled at the feel of myself filling her. “Oh God, Jules.”

  We rocked together slowly until the friction wasn’t enough.

  Her feet found my ass and dug in, and I plunged deeper, harder. Our mouths fused, her nipples rubbed against my chest, and my thumb found her sensitive spot.

  As she began to shake, my heart pounded heavy against my breastbone. It was the hottest missionary I’d ever experienced.

  With another thrust of me in and out of her, Jules came. I rode her waves slowly, drawing each tremor out of her until her breathing steadied. Then I picked up the pace again until I could do nothing but succumb to my own climax.

  Jules

  “Let me get a warm towel and clean you,” he whispered into my ear, and slid out from me.

  I already missed him. There was an immediate hollowness where he’d been. I hadn’t made love in seven years, and now after two times with this man, I needed to be filled.