by Nina Lane
“Oh, fuck…”
Sensation explodes through me. Her pussy tightens around my cock as I come inside her with a force that feels like it could rip me apart. Liv whispers something I can’t hear past the pounding of my heart.
I collapse on top of her, pressing my face to her throat, her breasts rising and falling against my chest. She winds her arms around me. Her breath stirs the hair sticking to my damp forehead.
Rain spills down the windows. I inhale the scent of my wife, absorb the crush of her body beneath mine, the unbelievably soft, yielding feel of her.
As the world comes slowly back into focus, bitter self-disgust starts crawling up my throat. Even now, I can’t control myself, can’t treat my wife with care.
I push away from Liv and get to my feet, unable to look at her as I pull on my boxers. Tension thickens the air.
I turn. Liv is sitting up, pulling her bra on. The sight of her breasts fills me with a combination of pain and renewed lust.
Fuck. Despite the complicated shit Liv and I have been through, never once has my desire for her changed. I’ve felt other negative things toward her—anger, sadness, irritation, resentment, impatience, frustration—but nothing has ever affected my intense craving and need for her.
In fact, our struggles have fueled my lust for my wife, deepened and intensified it. Every time I touch Liv, it’s more than simple pleasure. It’s a reminder that she’s mine, body and soul. She is more than my greatest love, my obsession, the center of my being. She belongs to me, in me, with me. Yesterday. Now. Forever.
And pain at the sight of her naked breasts is a fucking arrow plunging straight into my chest.
She lifts her arms to tighten the band around her ponytail, glancing up at the same time. Our gazes collide. A shadow falls over her eyes, as if with that one look, she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Of course she does.
“Dean.” Liv gestures for me to come closer.
My heart feels like a fist. I back away from her, my throat constricting. I hate not knowing what to do for her. I hate that she thinks there’s nothing I can do.
“Dean. Come here. Please.”
I move closer to her, but not even her body heat can warm the chill spreading through me from the inside out. She wraps her legs around my waist and slides her hands over my shoulders, up to the sides of my neck.
She lifts my face to look at her. If I gaze into her brown eyes long enough, I’ll discover all the secrets of the universe.
“I’m scared,” Liv says. “Terrified. I will be until we get through this nightmare. Until we see hope again. I’m scared of this disease, of the treatment, of surgery and tests and whatever else has to happen.”
She moves her hands up into my hair and presses her forehead against mine.
“But I want you to know this,” she continues. “I will never, never, be afraid of you. I will never fear anything you feel, anything you say, anything you do. Never. Believe that, professor, because it’s the truth. You are the only place in the world where I feel safe. You always will be.”
My heart cracks. Once upon a time, I’d known I could protect her. I’d known how to defend the goddamned castle. I’d known without a doubt I could keep my wife safe. But now?
Nothing is safe anymore. Least of all me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
OLIVIA
HE CAN HARDLY LOOK AT ME. At breakfast, his gaze touches on the bruises exposed by the scooped collar of my nightgown, and his expression darkens with self-directed disgust.
“Dean.” I curl my hand around his wrist as he stands at the central island, making a sandwich for Nicholas’s lunch. “It’s okay.”
His jaw tightens. “Nothing about this is okay.”
“Yes, it is.” I slide my fingers over his forearm. “You and I are okay. We will always be okay, no matter what happens. We know that. And the only way you can ever hurt me is by shutting me out. Please don’t do that. Not now.”
The tension in his arm eases a little, but I know the source of his aggravation runs too deep to be easily excavated. The stark truth is that he can’t protect me from this. He can’t fight this battle for me.
And those are the only things he wants right now. He would give anything to be able to step in front of me and slay this monster. To be my hero.
Dean brushes his lips across my forehead and turns away to pack Nicholas’s lunch. I let him go.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Dean on the verge of breaking. But this could be the thing that finally severs him right in half. And I need to be the one to hold us together.
I maintain control by taking a proactive approach to hiring a nanny, hoping the extra help will serve the purpose of making things easier. After interviewing and checking references, we hire Claire, a young energetic woman who has several years of nanny experience and an undergrad degree in Elementary Education.
We arrange to have her pick Bella and Nicholas up from school on the days I’m working and bring them to the café before their afternoon activities. The first week goes smoothly, and both children seem to take to her well enough.
“The nanny was Dean’s idea?” Kelsey asks me, as she sits at the front counter with her laptop and a cookie.
“You sound surprised,” I remark, pouring her a cup of coffee.
“Well, he bit my head off when I offered to take over his seat on a committee,” she says. “Told me to leave him the hell alone.”
“Oh, Kelsey, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Kelsey shakes her head, flicking her blue-streaked hair back over her shoulder. “I mean, I know him. Mr. Fix-It has his way of dealing with shit, and one of those ways is to attack. I can take it. I’m just surprised he’s the one who suggested you hire a nanny, considering how he wants to do everything.”
That’s part of the issue. Dean knows he can’t do everything this time. That’s exactly what he can’t stand.
The front door opens. Bella and Nicholas run in with shouts of greeting, and my cloudy mood falls away. Claire follows, lugging their backpacks and coats. She smiles ruefully at me as Nicholas and Bella clamber onto stools at the counter.
“In the last fifteen minutes, I’ve heard all of Nicholas’s Star Wars voices, and Bella sang me five songs she made up,” Claire says, sitting beside them. “You clearly have performers on your hands, Liv.”
I smile and set a plate of fruit salad and cookies on the counter. “Thanks for picking them up. By the way, this is our friend Kelsey. Kelsey, Claire Finney, our new nanny.”
They exchange greetings and pleasantries. I almost see Kelsey’s sharp brain clicking and whirring as she processes a first-impression evaluation of Claire, the young woman who is partly in charge of Kelsey’s beloved niece and nephew.
“What’s shakin’, bacon?” booms Archer’s voice, as he comes through the kitchen doors.
Nicholas and Bella both light up with delight—you’d think they see Archer once a month the way they react to him—and he makes the rounds of fist-bumping and hugging as Kelsey packs up her laptop.
“We’re going to—” she starts to tell me.
“Omigod,” Claire says suddenly.
I glance at her, to find her staring at Archer. She swings her gaze from Archer to Kelsey and back again.
“I totally didn’t get… I mean, are you Archer West?” she asks.
“Of course he’s Archer West,” Nicholas says, as if that should be obvious.
“And you’re Kelsey March.” Claire shakes her head, as if she can’t believe this is just dawning on her. “I totally didn’t realize it, but of course it’s you! You’re the Storm Hunters. I watch the show all the time. That dog rescue was amazing.”
“Yes, it was,” Kelsey agrees, slanting Archer a glance.
“So are you… what, like, friends of Liv and Dean
?” Claire asks.
“Archer is Dean’s brother,” I explain.
“Dean’s brother?” Claire blinks. “You’re Dean’s brother?”
Archer nods. Claire looks as if she can’t quite make the connection between suit-and-tie Professor West and rugged, storm chaser Archer with motorcycle oil staining his hands.
“I got the better one,” Kelsey tells her.
Claire cracks a smile and glances at me. “Did she?”
I shake my head and say, “I let her think so.”
Because as much as I love Archer, I know differently.
“Mommy, potty,” Bella announces.
“I can take her.” Claire climbs off the stool and holds her hand out for Bella’s. “Is the restroom at the back?”
“Yes, just down the hall to the right,” I say. “Thanks.”
Bella tucks her hand into Claire’s as they head down the corridor. Archer steps away from Nicholas and closer to me.
“Hey, speaking of the old man,” he says, his voice low, “how’s he doing?”
I’m not even sure how to answer that. I don’t want to lie to Archer, but Dean wouldn’t want me to tell anyone, even his brother, that he’s not doing well at all.
“Have you talked to him lately?” I ask.
“No. He was supposed to bring his car in for a tire rotation, but he didn’t show up,” Archer says. “I know he’s busy and all. I was just wondering if he’s okay.”
“You should call him yourself and find out,” Kelsey suggests.
Archer shrugs and picks up Kelsey’s laptop case. “Let us know if you need anything, Liv.”
“I will.”
After Archer and Kelsey have gone, I take out my phone and text Dean:
LIV: I love you like macaroni loves cheese.
I check my phone several times over the next hour, but there’s no answer.
“Where’s Allie?” Kelsey sits beside me on her living room sofa and reaches for one of the Chinese food containers on the coffee table. “I told her seven o’clock.”
I pick up my phone. There’s a text from Allie: Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Something came up. Have fun!
Unease flickers in my gut. Ever since I told Allie about the cancer, she’s been oddly distant, wanting only to talk about work-related issues. And in the year since I returned from Paris, she’s never missed one of our monthly girls’ nights.
Until now.
I put the phone aside. “Looks like she had to cancel.”
“Oh.” Kelsey looks faintly surprised. “Did she say why?”
“No, just that something came up.” I keep my voice light so Kelsey won’t sense something is amiss between me and Allie. “Well, more food for us anyway.”
“True.” Kelsey forks some noodles onto her plate. “And this lo mein practically gives me an orgasm.”
I grin. “Does Archer know that?”
“No, I don’t want to give him a complex. Not that he’d ever be threatened by Chinese food.”
Kelsey leans forward to pour ginger ale into our glasses. Since I’m under doctor’s orders not to drink alcohol, we’re having soda instead of our usual wine or margaritas. Aside from small concessions like that, no one has suddenly started treating me as if I’m sick, though The Moms help out with more playdates and have brought us casseroles. Kelsey and our friends Susan and Carol have planned several fun outings—to movies, dinner, an art fair—which prove to be a welcome distraction.
My friends also do not find it necessary to focus our conversations entirely on me or what I’m facing. In fact, most of the time we still talk about celebrity gossip, new books and movies, kid-related issues, and which girl is the most cray-cray on the latest episode of Millionaire Bachelor.
After we eat, Kelsey sets her empty plate on the coffee table. The front door opens and Archer comes in, a leash in one hand. Attached to the leash is a medium-sized black dog with white paws and a white circle around its left eye.
I glance from the dog to Kelsey in surprise. “I didn’t know you kept the dog.”
“We didn’t.” Kelsey looks pointedly at Archer. “Archer is supposed to be trying to find it a new home.”
“I put up fliers everywhere and called the shelter twice,” Archer says defensively. “No one wants him.”
“Except you,” I say.
“We’re not keeping it,” Kelsey says.
The dog barks at her.
“Easy, boy.” Archer strokes the dog’s head. “He can just hang out with me at the garage, then go with us on the road. Play up my new role as a romantic action hero taming the hardcore scientist.”
He winks at Kelsey. She scowls.
I can’t help being amused by the fact that she’s put out—not because of Archer’s new fame but because she had little to do with it. Instead it’s all about him and the dog. Who is resting his head on Archer’s knee with clear devotion.
Kelsey reaches for a fortune cookie and breaks it open, pulling out the scrap of paper to read.
“Big journeys begin with a single step,” she says. “Well, duh. Every journey begins with a single step.”
She breaks apart another cookie. After smoothing out the fortune, she reads it and goes utterly still.
“Kels?” I set my chopsticks down. “What is it?”
She lifts her head and looks at Archer. “What the…”
He gives her a slow, lazy grin.
Kelsey hands me the fortune. Printed on the pink paper is the phrase:
Marry me, storm girl.
“Aww.” My heart gets all soft and mushy. “How sweet.”
“How suspicious,” Kelsey says.
“I’m telling you, baby.” Archer doesn’t take his eyes off her. “You and I could rock the institution of marriage just like we’ve done with everything else.”
“Sure,” Kelsey says. “Right when you’re basking in the glow of your newfound fame and fangirl adoration, you want to get married. Save Storm Hunters, just like you saved the dog.”
Archer pushes slowly to his feet, his hand still wrapped around the leash.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he remarks.
“Archer, I’m not marrying you for ratings.”
“I don’t want to marry you for ratings,” he replies. “I want to marry you for us. You were the one who told that girl Claire you got the best one, right? So come on, storm girl. Get me.”
Kelsey looks at him, heat rising to her cheeks, unable to hide the amusement and adoration in her eyes.
An unexpected twinge of envy goes through me as I think about how different things would be if Dean and I were only engaged in a flirty challenge about our relationship instead of facing… this.
Archer hauls himself out of the chair, turning to snap his fingers at the dog. “Come on, Patch.”
“Oh my God, you did not name him,” Kelsey says.
“Just temporarily,” Archer assures her. “Until I find him a new home.”
He grins at me and salutes, then heads out the door with Patch following at his heels.
Kelsey slumps on the sofa, resting her head against my shoulder.
“I suck at being a chick,” she mutters.
“No, you don’t.” I pat her hair in sympathy. “You just still put on your scientist armor when you need to protect yourself.”
“I can’t believe he’s starting up with the marry me stuff again.”
“I can. He’s waited for five years. You didn’t think he was just going to let it drop completely, did you? And frankly, I’m with Allie. Why wouldn’t you want to marry him?”
“Because he and I are so good together,” Kelsey says. “And he thinks marriage will make things even better. But what if it doesn’t? So many things, so many people, have disappointed him in his life. It would kill me if marriage disappointed h
im too.”
“Kelsey, committing to you with vows would be Archer’s greatest achievement, not a disappointment. Is marriage scary? Yes. Is it worth it? Totally. Even with our troubles, I’ve never once not wanted to be married to Dean.”
“Has Dean ever said anything to you about me marrying Archer?”
“Lord, no. He learned a long time ago to keep his nose out of your relationship.”
“But he and Archer still haven’t fully reconciled, and I can’t help wondering if I’m the reason why.”
“Their family history is the reason why.”
“Yeah, but they’re grown men who should learn to deal with shit. I thought they were in a good place when they were working on the railroad together, but then you guys went off to Paris and things seemed to sort of… stall.”
“Has Archer talked to you about it?” I ask.
“No. But I can tell he’s not entirely at ease around Dean. And sometimes he still makes excuses when Dean asks him to do something with his grad students. I think Archer feels like he’d be out of place among all the academics or whatever.” She frowns at the broken pieces of the fortune cookie she’s still holding. “I hate that he still feels that way.”
“Dean and Archer are good friends, Kelsey. And that’s more than either one of them thought they would be again.” I squeeze her around the shoulders. “And even though I know brilliant and bad-ass Kelsey March doesn’t need a piece of paper to prove how much she loves her man, there’s no question Archer wants to tell the world you belong together. As for Dean? He would be happy to see you married to his brother.”
She doesn’t look entirely convinced. I understand her unease, even as I also know that the West family does not make grand gestures of reconciliation.