The Best of June

by Tierney O’Malley

  “Sit up, baby.”

  “Why?”

  “Got you a bowl of soup. Eat it so you have something to throw up later.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I thought pregnant women are sick only in the morning? That’s why they call it morning sickness, right?”

  “Whoever invented the word morning sickness must have been a man—or a woman who had never experienced being pregnant,” she snapped.

  “All right, Grumpy Grumpington. Eat so you can sleep. Open.” He held the spoon to June’s mouth, but she turned her head away.

  “I can feed myself.”

  “I don’t think so. You said you don’t have any energy at all. Come on.”

  With a frown, June opened her mouth. He fed her the soup until it was all gone.

  “Thank you. My stomach feels better now.”

  “Good. Now sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight.” June lay back then turned on her side away from him.

  Henry covered her with the blanket, watched his wife sleep for few minutes then went to his room. Any man would rejoice to score a wife like June, would most likely never let her out of his sight and spend every fucking waking moment making love to her. But he wasn’t any man. He was a man June had chosen to father her child, one who had signed a contract in exchange for money, and who would file for a divorce once their baby was born. No, he was no ordinary man—but a fucked-up one.

  Henry lay on top of the bedspread. His bed felt comfortable, the sheets soft and clean smelling, not perfumy at all. He should sleep, but he was wide awake now. His mind filled with thoughts about his wife.

  Putting his hands behind his head, he wondered whether he’d made a big mistake signing the contract.

  Little Jelly Bean, as his wife called their baby, would be as beautiful as June was and would grow up without a father when he left them. Could he really leave June and their baby? But the contract…fucking contract, stated that he must not have any contact with the Greenwalds once June had delivered Jelly Bean. When he’d signed it, he’d relinquished his right to see their baby. At the time, he hadn’t cared at all. Now…damn. What the hell was he going to do?

  Sighing, he admitted the fact. He’d love their baby unconditionally. His heart thumped at the thought of a little boy or girl running around chasing a dog. For the first time since he’d learned that he’d fathered a child, excitement claimed him. He was actually looking forward to the birth of his first baby. The Greenwalds seemed to be reasonable people. He would talk to them. Maybe they’d change their minds and would let him have rights to see Jelly Bean. Now, his parents… Dad would understand. He’d have six months to convince him. Yeah, he would do that.

  Six more months and he’d see the baby. Six more months and he’d be single again and his bank account fatter. It sounded great, but why did it feel like he’d just swallowed a big rock?

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Henry joined June in the kitchen, bacon was already cooling on the plate and she was slicing strawberries. It was six in the morning and yet the man managed to look as if he’d been on a fashion shoot for hours. Lord, did she really marry a hunk of deliciousness.

  “You feel okay this morning?” He padded barefoot into the kitchen.

  “Yes. Thank you for helping me last night.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you always get up this early?” He picked up a slice of bacon and started checking everything on the counter.

  “Six o’clock is not early. Besides, life is way too short to spend it in bed.”

  “Way too short according to Browning?”

  “According to me,” she repeated.

  “To some, I suppose.”

  “Yup. I’d rather do something with my time and be productive.”

  “You can do something productive while in bed.” Henry grinned.

  Did she hear a hint of sexual innuendo in his tone? A flush heated June’s face. “Like what? Knit and watch TV?”

  “Yup. Exactly what I was thinking.”

  June laughed. “If you say so. I can’t abide wasting my time being lazy. I might not get lucky again and not see the next day, so I’d rather do things now. Like making puffed pancakes. I hope you like puffed pancakes.”

  “Puffed pancakes?”

  “Uh-huh. They will come out of the oven in five minutes.”

  “Pancakes cooked in the oven. Never had that.”

  “You’re kidding? A rich kid like you must have had all the kinds of pancakes in the world.”

  “A rich kid like me is not that lucky to try fancy cakes.”

  “I love the traditional kind, but last time Mom cooked them, I got sick. It’s the smell, you see. But for some weird reason, puffed pancakes don’t bother me at all.”

  “Certain scents makes you sick?”

  “Yeah. Since I got pregnant, some things that I used to like don’t smell or taste good anymore.”

  “Like what?”

  “Toothpaste.”

  “Oh, hell. That’s really bad.” He laughed.

  “Hey, I still brush my teeth.”

  “What about shampoo?”

  June scrunched up her nose. Henry shook his head while giving her a pitying look.

  “Not funny.”

  “Sorry, but it is. What do you use, then?”

  “Baby shampoo. Unscented.”

  Henry leaned to get closer to her. June stepped back. Henry’s cologne made her queasy. It was different than what he’d worn yesterday. She swallowed, took deep breaths and looked left and right.

  “June?”

  “I’m gonna be sick.”

  Like lightning, Henry took a pot off the hook and handed it to her. “Use this.”

  “Thank you.” She held the brand new pot while she heaved. “You need to step away from me.”

  “Why?”

  “You make me sick.”

  “Now, that’s not nice.”

  “Your cologne. Makes me sick.”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry.” Henry took his shirt off. “I’ll be right back.”

  Once her stomach had calmed a bit, June rinsed the pot then put it back on the hook. Goodness, that was embarrassing. June touched her stomach. “Jelly Bean, darling. You made Daddy remove his shirt. All right, let’s check the pancakes.” She opened the oven. They were still gooey so she closed the oven again.

  She was clearing the counter when Henry came back, wearing different clothes.

  “You showered again?”

  “Just rinsed off the scent.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. I’m sorry I made you sick.”

  “You wore a new cologne.”

  “Yeah. A gift.” Henry cleared his throat.

  The way Henry looked at his feet gave her a hint on who gave him the cologne. “Are you having breakfast here?”

  “Oh, heck yeah. I’m not going to pass up on oven-baked pancakes. You okay now?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry you have to be sick like that.”

  “Part of having a baby. You like strawberries with your pancakes?”

  “Sounds good. Have you had any?”

  “Nope.”

  The timer went off. June quickly opened the oven and took out the skillet. The pancakes came out good. She cut them in fourths then placed them on a plate.

  “I’ll help. What do we need? Plates?”

  “Yes. And forks and knives. I’ll get the butter, syrup and powdered sugar. Coffee is ready.”

  “Nice. Could we have this every morning?”

  Every morning? He wanted to share breakfast with her every morning? “Sure.”

  With everything on the counter, June took the seat beside Henry. They sat side by side. Henry’s toes peeked from the hem of his pants. His nails were neatly cut. She wouldn’t forget those sexy feet.

  “What’s your agenda for today?” June asked, while cutting her pancakes in to bite-size pieces.

  “I had planned to be in the
office today. But I’m thinking about working here. John can come over.”

  Surprised, June felt her jaw go slack. Was he serious? “Why here?”

  “In case you get sick again.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Yes to coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’m having orange juice.”

  “Is it okay if I work here at home?”

  “Yeah. Of course. But you don’t have to on my account. I mean, I’m fine. You don’t have to stay.” She’d made an appointment to see Doctor Sanders today. “I’m strong as a horse. Really.”

  Henry frowned at her. He looked disappointed too. “If I go to work, I’ll probably be gone all day.”

  “That’s all right.” June gave him a smile.

  “If you need anything, you’ll let me know? Let me call your cell number so you can have mine.”

  “Cell?”

  “Yeah. Cell phone. You know that little electronic device the majority of the population now uses to communicate with one another. You have one, don’t you?”

  “No. But I do have a pen and paper. You know what a pen is, don’t you? The little instrument for writing or drawing? It has ink and a nib or ball. Sometimes fitted into a metal or plastic holder.” She reached for the notepad on the counter with the pen sitting on top of it. “And you use the pen to write on this fancy pad.”

  Henry pulled a lock of her hair. “Smart-ass.”

  “I can use the landline if I need to reach you. So, what’s the number?”

  “Is that why Craig uses the landline to leave messages for you?”

  “Did he leave more messages?”

  Henry frowned. “The last one was at one-fifteen in the morning.”

  “Oh, Lord. What did he say?”

  “He asked if you’re doing okay. He sounded really distraught.” Henry stood then walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve the carton of orange juice. He filled a tall glass with it then placed it beside June’s plate. “His last message intrigued me.”

  Oh, dear. “What did he say?”

  “He sounded like he was drunk and crying. He apologized for failing to be a good friend and promised that he would do anything to make things better for you. That if he could take away your pain, he would. And would never ever fail you again. What was he talking about, June? What is it that he can’t do?”

  June frowned. “I don’t understand why my situation is really bothering him. I mean, it’s not really his fault.”

  “Maybe he’s in love with you.”

  “Not likely.”

  “How’d you know he’s not?”

  “Henry, Craig is gay.”

  Henry’s face fell, his mouth opening. “You’re shitting me.”

  “No. Only Vivienne and I know this. Oh, and my parents. Now you.”

  “Damn. Usually, my gaydar is accurate. You’re sure? Maybe he’s just pretending so he could get close to you and Vivienne.”

  “I’ve known him since middle school. He’s in love with Christian Bale.”

  “Man, I didn’t see any sign that he’s gay.”

  “It’s a secret that he guards seriously.”

  “He’s doing a great job at it. Did you see the women practically throwing themselves at him?”

  “Yeah. It’s always like that. Wherever he goes. You know, maybe he’s blaming his sexuality. If he weren’t gay, he would have—”

  “Slept with you instead.”

  “Right.”

  “Vivienne said something about making a mistake of picking me. What’s that about?”

  “Of all the men we had on the list, you came at the top. We picked you. So, what’s your cell number?”

  “Changing the topic, are we? Why did you pick me?”

  June smiled big. “Number?”

  “Two, zero, six, nine, nine, nine, two, five, one, four. Why me?”

  She jotted down the numbers. “Because of your attributes. Let’s eat.”

  “My attributes?”

  “Fishing for compliments?”

  Henry grinned but didn’t ask more questions. They shared breakfast as if they’d been doing it for years.

  Together, they worked in the kitchen. Henry washed dishes and she made more coffee. As soon as the kitchen was clean, Henry sat on the counter. Henry loves his coffee in the morning.

  “Do you need anything that we don’t have here?” he asked while watching her wash the counter.

  “No. We have everything. Thank you, though.”

  “All right. What attributes?”

  June laughed. “Go to work.”

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Eventually. Not now.”

  “Give me a call if you think of anything. You sure you don’t want me to work here? After last night, you should have someone to stay with you.”

  “Please, Henry. I’m not a toddler. See this?” She raised her left arm and flexed her muscle. “I’m strong, baby.”

  Henry squeezed her muscle. “Wow. A soft turnip.”

  “Shut up!” She swatted his hand.

  Laughing, Henry caught her hand and pulled her against him. “All right. I’ll go. Just call, okay?”

  “Okay.” June yawned. “Oh, dear.” She yawned again.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Henry grabbed her hand and started pulling her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Why?”

  “You look shocked. Don’t worry, honey. I’m not going to ravish you, if that’s why you sounded so aghast.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do. You got up so early. You need to sleep.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Parrot.”

  “Bully.”

  Henry laughed. “Yup, that’s me.”

  They didn’t stop until she was standing beside the bed. June laughed again. “Goodness, I was just fine then suddenly it hit me. I’ve been sleeping during weird hours of the day. Annoying, I tell you.”

  “Okay, baby. Turn around.”

  “Why?”

  Henry sighed. “Do you want me to undress you facing me?”

  June turned around like a top, so fast she nearly made a three-sixty, evoking loud laughter from Henry.

  “Still shy. I’ve seen every delicious part of you, remember?”

  “Yes, but you were drunk most of the time we were together. I’m sure you don’t remember everything about me.”

  “Drunk from wanting you. And I do remember everything. I know you get goosebumps when I kiss your neck, like it when I kiss your sides, are ticklish when I touch your ankle, and you lose all your bones when I lick the insides of your thighs. You like it fast and hard. But what I remember the most is when I suck your—”

  She squeaked and covered Henry’s mouth with her hand. “Don’t say it. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Ahwasshhustoingto—”

  “Stop. Okay, go. I can change without your help.” She gasped when Henry licked her palm.

  June quickly removed her hands from his mouth. Her breathing quickened and my, oh my, she was on fire. She stared at her husband. He stared back with passion-laden eyes.

  It seemed like an eternity before Henry cupped her face then planted a kiss on her lips. “Thanks for the great breakfast,” he said, then he was gone.

  Lord, that was…nice.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Henry sat on his new leather swivel chair, his booted feet propped on the polished oak table. Finally, they’d actually be able to use their office. Everything from phone lines, fax and computers had been set up. They had the business cards printed and the cubicles were equipped with all kinds of supplies. He particularly liked their conference room. Transactions would happen there. Damn, he could hardly wait.

  But there were lots of things to do before they could actually have their business running. They’d have to deal with the bidding. It might take six months or a year, but he was glad they’d gotten things rolling.

  During his meetin
g with John over vodka, they’d decided that Henry would take care of the international business dealings, sealing deals with clients around the world. A gargantuan task, but they both had the skills to make it happen.

  Henry looked at his desktop. He should start doing his research, arrange meetings and all, but his mind had been preoccupied—with his wife. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t remain mad at her. And he doubted he’d last six months without touching her.

  The first time he’d made love to her, it had felt like he was a teenager feeling strong sexual attachment for the first time. He hadn’t just eased the ache in his cock and scratched his itch. He’d made love to her with passion that stayed with him even a few days after. He nearly went crazy thinking about her, so much so that he’d had to hit different bars downtown to drown himself with alcohol. Now he was doing it again. Thinking about June. Wanting June.

  Damn, what had made him tell her about their cock-rising memories? He’d practically seduced her with words and in the process it had made him rock-hard until he’d wanted to strip her naked and make love to her again.

  If this craving for his wife continued, they’d have a repeat of their nights together. He doubted she would resist him. She wanted him. He saw it in her eyes. She was as excited as he was when they were close.

  So what if he made love to her again? They were married, for fuck’s sake. But it would only complicate things! Ah! Hell. Fuck. Shit.

  He checked his phone. No missed calls from June, but a lot of missed calls—that he ignored intentionally from Stacey.

  The hell. Is June still sleeping?

  “You were staring at that phone when I left. You’re staring at it still?” John closed the door. He walked toward Henry’s table then placed a coffee tray on top. “Barista at Café Stars is asking for you. I told her you’re busy masturbating.”

  “Fuck you.”

  John laughed. “God, you’re so grumpy. Why don’t you just go home and sleep with your wife. I know you’ve been dreaming about it.”

  “Shut up. Yeah, I’ve been dreaming about my wife. But right now I’m more worried about her condition. She’s sick, John. Last night she was throwing up and I didn’t even know how to help. I could feel her bones, she has dark circles beneath her eyes. This pregnancy is giving her hell. I shouldn’t have left her alone.”