Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three

by Audrey Carlan

  What the heck was that? I mean, the guy had been so sweet on Monet not fifteen minutes ago. Now he went straight icy? Strange.

  I walked over to the stool, moved it into the center, closer to the easel, and sat down. I crossed my arms over one another, mimicking the pose she’d had me in before. Only then, I’d been hard for her. Literally. Although my mini-me was not far off at the moment.

  “Looks pretty sweet, wildcat. What’s the problem?”

  “Yeah, what’s the problem?”

  Mila glared at me, and I chuckled.

  “The problem is that none of this was here last week. Moe, you did all this for me? Where’s all your home supplies? This extended portion used to have all your gardening stuff, mower…” Her words trailed off. “You’ve changed it all for me?”

  Monet went over to her friend and clasped her cheeks. “Mila, I’d do anything for my best friend. I want you here. Lily wants you here. Your home is where your family is. We’re your family and you’re ours. Got it? We put that stuff in a new shed I had built out back. Now shut up and enjoy your new studio. I can’t wait to see what you create here.”

  Mila’s eyes glistened, and a tear fell. I figured that was my cue to head out and give them some privacy.

  I patted Monet on the shoulder as I was heading out. “You’re a really good friend. Mila, I’ll be with the guys. Let us know when the pizza and beer arrives.”

  I walked out and let them have their moment. Right when I exited, I saw Clay standing by another set of canvases he must have moved himself. Instead of yelling at him for doing it alone, because I did not want to risk any of her art getting damaged, I let it go. They seemed fine, only the big guy didn’t. That hard look in his eyes remained.

  “What’s up, man? You went cold in there. I thought you were into Mila’s friend Monet?”

  “Was being the operative word. No longer.” His voice was devoid of any emotion.

  “Um, okay. That’s jacked. Care to tell me why?”

  “Not really. Can we just do this? I’ve got shit to do and somewhere to be.”

  That was total bullshit. He’d told me before we came over that he was free all day. “Whatever, Jekyll and Hyde. Lift that side of those pieces and I’ll get this side.”

  Together the five guys did all the heavy lifting, and Monet and Mila got the small stuff and told us where to put things. By the time we were done, the pizza had arrived. Only Clay didn’t stay. He bailed with a quick nod and a wave the second the last piece was in place. I wondered what had crawled up his ass but decided I’d deal with his wishy-washiness later. I had a petite Latina to woo and confirm with for our date tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When the navel chakra is in healthy alignment, you will be comfortable with your own inherent power and become empowered. You will have a sense of who you are and why you are here. When you connect with your purpose, you gain a deeper understanding of how you as an individual can contribute to the collective in a beneficial way. You will let go of the things—whether it’s your job or bank account balance—that you depend on to define who you are.

  MILA

  I woke to something soft running down my nose and over my lips. The sensation was repeated, like a feather trailing along my skin. The feeling moved down the side of my right temple to my chin before it moved to the opposite side. A warm pressure leaned against the left side of my body. As the little pressure came back to my lips, I kissed it, which gifted me a girlie giggle.

  Instead of opening my eyes, I wrapped my arms around the bundle leaning against me and cuddled the lump, which warranted much louder giggles. Now waking to this sound was something I could easily get used to.

  “Auntie Mimi, wake up!” Lily patted my forehead.

  I opened my eyes and stared into the loveliest blue eyes I’d ever seen. A dark, deep sapphire shade of blue mixed so beautifully with Lily’s features. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose and the shiniest, thickest black hair I’d ever seen on a three-year-old. Besides the blue eyes, which in itself was an anomaly, since only one out of every hundred Asians born had blue eyes, Lily was the most beautiful child I knew. It didn’t matter that she was the only child I knew personally. The eye thing, though, was special. Moe and I had looked that up when Lily turned two and her eyes hadn’t changed color. We agreed that it made her even more unique. Sure wish Kyle, Moe’s ex, had thought so. Douchenozzle.

  “Hi, baby.” I lifted my head and snuggled into her sweet neck and blew a few raspberries. She loved when I did that.

  Lily squealed and flopped her entire body on top of me. Then she lifted up her head and played with my hair. “I wish I had curlies,” she said in that toddler tone, the one that made all human beings melt, while she fingered a few of my curls.

  I was convinced that God made all children beautiful and endearing so that you didn’t kill them for all the crazy shit they did, like barf all over the floor at random intervals, destroy things, and dirty up clothes with whatever they had on their hands, which might be actual crap at any given time. Kids were filthy, uncontrollable, hyper, destructive magnets for disgusting things. Name it, they caught it, touched it, rubbed their little hands all in it. Totally gross. Yet they were the most loving, innocent, honest, beautiful examples of kindness on the planet. Hands down, I’d rather deal with children most days than adults. At least with them, a person knew what they were getting. They never hid who they were, always said what they thought, and lived life joyfully. Adults could learn a lot from children.

  “Well, I wish I had this shiny black hair like you and your mommy. It’s the most beautiful hair in all the world,” I assured her.

  She preened, giving me her wonky, one-sided smile. “Mommy is making us pant cakes.”

  “Pant cakes! Do I have to tell her to stopping cooking up her pants again?” I laughed.

  “No, no, pam cakes!”

  “You mean pan-cakes. Pa…annnnn cakes. Pancakes.” I sounded out and enunciated with emphasis so she’d hear the difference.

  She crinkled up her nose as though offended. “ ’s what I said. Pam-cakes.”

  I rolled my eyes and then lifted us both up. “All right, baby, you go meet up with your mom and tell her I want two.” I lifted up my hand and showed her two fingers. “Two. Can you show me two?”

  She held up three fingers; I pushed one down. “Two.”

  Lily grinned and kept her two fingers spread wide. “Two! ’Kay, Auntie Mimi.” She scrambled off in her pink footed pajamas and ran down the hall screaming, “Two, Mommy! Two, Mommy!”

  I shook my head and pulled back the covers. Now that I lived with Moe and Lily, I made an effort to wear a tank top and a pair of booty shorts to bed instead of my standard sleeping naked. The last thing I wanted to do was explain to a three-year-old why her auntie didn’t wear clothes to bed. Not a conversation I planned on having. Ever.

  Still feeling sluggish from all the work we’d done yesterday, I tossed on a robe and shuffled into the kitchen. Moe was looking dashing as usual in a pair of capris and a silk tank. Her long black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

  I hiked my butt up onto one of the bar stools to watch her mosey around the kitchen doing her thing. Lily sat in the play area off the kitchen where she was busy cooking her own play pancakes. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Damn, you make me look like a slob,” I grumbled into my hand and yawned.

  Moe went over to the coffeepot, poured a cup, and filled it with my favorite creamer. Someone was prepared, having my favorite in the fridge even though she didn’t drink it herself. She set the cup in front of me.

  “Here. Looks like you need it. How late did you stay up unpacking?”

  I yawned and sighed. “I think I crashed around one. You know how I hate things unsettled, but most of it is done. Have I thanked you again for pushing me to move in?”

  She smirked. “No, I believe you were bitching”—she whispered the word so that the little ears in th
e other room didn’t hear—“at me throughout the entire process. Thanks were not part of that.”

  I pouted. “Sorry.” I ran my hand through my hair. “It’s hard, Moe. I know I need this change and it’s definitely going to help me financially, but you know, since my dad went away and my mom moved on, I’ve always been on my own.”

  Moe sipped her coffee and nodded, waiting for me continue. She was good at allowing people to say what they needed to say before injecting her response. Made her a good therapist, I’d imagine.

  “It’s not hard letting you in; obviously you’re the only one that I’ve ever let in. You and Lil are my life. But I don’t want to be a burden.” I rubbed at my forehead with the puffy end of my sleeve, comforting myself with the soft fabric.

  Moe set down her cup and put a hand on her hip. “That is the last time you will speak of yourself as a burden to me. Ever. I mean it, Mila. It pisses me off. I need you here as much as you need to be here. So is it wrong for me to need that extra security with having someone I love share my home, helping me with Lily, being here to help us through the hell that Kyle put us through? Hmm?”

  Her words were like an arrow right through the heart. Perfect kill shot. “I had no idea you really felt that way.”

  She stiffened her spine and turned around to the skillet where four perfectly round, even-sized disks of fluffy love were browning nicely. My mouth watered as I watched her flip them with an expert twist of her wrist. Then she set the spatula down and leaned against the counter, her head falling forward.

  “You being here means a lot to me. You wanting to be here means more because Kyle didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want me. He didn’t want Lily. And as her mother, I have to deal with that ache. As his now ex-wife, I have to deal with the mistake that I fell deeply in love with a man who now loves my sister. So yes, having someone who loves us share our home means a lot.” She turned around and faced me, her eyes sad and a frown marring her pretty face. “Okay?”

  I put down my cup, rushed around the counter, and pulled her into my arms. “Yeah, it’s okay. And I am happy to be here. I’m sorry for being a bitch. Thank you for making me see the light.”

  She nodded into my neck and then pushed back and slid a delicate hand along her hair, making sure everything was still in place. Moe was like that. All class and focused on even the smallest details.

  “Pam-cakes are done!” Lily exclaimed, holding two plastic toy plates, one with a fake cookie and another with a funky-looking donut. She delivered them to the counter. “Oh for dot the milkies! Be wite back.” The little love turned on a toe and bustled to her corner where she grabbed two empty plastic cups. “Here you go! Eat up. It will get cold.”

  Being the best auntie in the world, I pretended to munch on my plastic food, making the appropriate noises of “mmms” and “yums” to make my girl pink up in the cheeks and smile with utter glee. Yep. Moving in with these two was a good decision. I could already feel the creative juices flowing. I watched Moe plate our real breakfasts.

  “Hey, Moe, would you ever let me paint the two of you? Clothed,” I added.

  “Of course,” she agreed without even a lull in her steps to get the silverware out.

  “Really?” Usually people wanted to think about it when it came to displaying a version of their likeness. Art was in the eye of the beholder and more so for the artist depicting it.

  Moe crinkled her nose the exact same way her daughter had done this morning. That tiny gesture alone made me thrilled that Kyle the douchebag was not Lily’s bio-dad. Stupid pig would have passed down his devil horns or a tail or something, not the cute nose crinkle that I adored on both my girls.

  “Yes, really. I’d love to see something you created of me and my daughter. I’m certain it would be the most beautiful thing ever. You’d have to let me hang it on the wall, though. I’d want to display something like that because, you know, when you’re a world-renowned artist, I’ll have an original Mila Mercado to boast. It will be a great story for Lily when she’s older, too.”

  God, I loved my best friend. Some people said that best friends were only another version of ourselves we wished we were. We attracted individuals who were so much like ourselves, but the subtle differences and interests were what kept us intrigued. The things that were the same that solidified the relationships for life. Perhaps that was the trick to finding a soul mate. Maybe a soul mate was a different version of one’s self, the best reflection of one, only with more to love. That could be why everyone always said “their better half” when introducing their mate.

  “Cool.” I shoveled a huge bite of pancake and syrup into my mouth so that I didn’t choke on the overwhelming wave of emotion I was feeling toward my friend.

  Moe ensured Lily was set gobbling away at her real breakfast before she sat down to eat. The cook was always the last to eat, and that sucked. In that moment, I made a promise to myself that, when I saw Moe slaving over a hot stove, I’d make sure she served herself first. Then I’d help Lily and, after that, myself.

  “So today’s the date, eh?” she asked and smirked.

  “Yes, he’s picking me up at lunch time. Any idea where he’s taking me?”

  Moe nodded happily. “Totally, but I’m not ruining the surprise. I will say, though, that I like Atlas. He’s sweet. And for him to get all those guys to help you just to make sure he could take you out, that’s pretty special, don’t you think?”

  I scoffed. “I think he’s doing that to make sure he has some ‘horizontal special time’ with me, if you know what I mean.”

  She frowned and set down her fork. “Do you really believe he did all that yesterday just to get into your pants again?”

  I took a big gulp of my coffee and looked around. “Uh, yeah. You don’t?”

  She harrumphed and then pushed her pancake around her plate. “No. I don’t. He seems really into you, Mila. I hope you will take his overtures as they are. A male who is obviously smitten with a woman and attempting to please her.”

  I grinned. “Oh, he pleases me in multiple ways!” I winked.

  She groaned. “You’re impossible.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t even see what’s right in front of you.” She stabbed a piece of fruit and pancake and then shoved it into her mouth.

  “Why are you so pissy about this guy? It’s not that big of a deal. We’re just having fun.”

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin. I swear, everything she did had a delicate nature to it. Even the way she sat properly, feet tucked under the stool, hands in her lap when she wasn’t actually eating.

  “I just want you to give him a chance. A real chance at something more…long-lasting.”

  Moe, forever in love with love. “Hon, I’m not sure anything is long-lasting, most definitely not love. You witness that every day in your job counseling failing marriages and mediating custody battles.”

  “And yet, I’d kill to have it for myself.”

  I rubbed her back. “I know. I know.” Fucking Kyle the bastard did such a number on her. Now she believed that everyone else could have true love but her. She genuinely believed that Kyle was it for her, and somehow, she ruined it.

  “Just promise me you’ll give this guy a real chance. I mean it. A real one.”

  I looked into my best friend’s coal-black eyes and melted into a puddle of goo. “Okay, I promise. I promise. Can we eat our breakfast now without being all deep and shit?”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit,” Lily repeated several times.

  Moe squinted. “Auntie Mimi! That was not a nice word.” She waved her finger at me.

  “Yikes! I’m sorry. I won’t say it again. I promise!”

  Moe pouted prettily. “Just remember your other promise and we’ll call it even.”

  ATLAS

  I was losing my shit. My palms were so sweaty I kept having to run them down the sides of my jeans. I curled a hand around the handle of the picnic basket I’d packed making sure it was secure behind the
seat. I’d made a specific run to the grocery store and picked up the contents of what I’d hoped would be a very special lunch. Fresh strawberries, grapes, small circles of cheese. I didn’t even know they made that shit, but I cornered a woman working the deli counter. She was all too willing to help me pack what she guaranteed would be a romantic lunch. I even had a couple small, half-sized bottles of champagne she called a split. The only thing I’d ever split when it came to booze was the bill, with a friend at the pub. And I’d definitely never packed a picnic nor bought champagne for a girl.

  That damn woman had better appreciate the effort. The miniscule-sized sandwiches I packed were a total joke. I mean, who ate that shit and didn’t leave hungry? Then again, I’d bought enough of the tiny things and tossed in a bag of chips just in case. I mean, a man had to eat, and that genuinely meant meat and something filling like a hunk of bread not a wafer cracker. Be that as it may, the girl who was helping me also encouraged a small bouquet of flowers, so I’d gotten the cheapest I could find. It’s not that I was cheap by nature, I just didn’t have a lot to blow on wooing a woman. Now if I scored a record deal, then I’d definitely have no problem dropping hundreds on a beautiful, enchanting woman like Mila. Hopefully, that type of life would be in my near future, but now, I had to make do with what I had.

  I thought about Mila and her tiny studio and how moving into her friend’s place had already changed her style of living. Definite upgrade. Made me wonder if the woman would change. She didn’t seem the type to care about material things. More than anything, she cared about art and yoga. Also her friends. Like Nick Salerno. A ribbon of irritation swirled around my mind and set up shop through a kink in my neck.

  What the hell was that with the dude yesterday anyway? I mean, she flew into his arms like she hadn’t seen the guy in a year, and it had only been weeks.