I shake my head. “You’re his best friend, Noah, and a baby isn’t going to change that. It’ll be years before he can do the things that you guys do together and when the baby is ready, you’ll be off in college.”
“Why do you want a dumb baby anyway?”
“Because this family has a lot of love to give to someone who needs it. His parents don’t want him and I don’t know about you, but I bet it feels really bad to not be wanted.”
Noah looks at me for a minute or so. He has a few tears falling onto his pillow, but I don’t bring attention to them. He’s a big boy now, almost a man according to him.
“It’s a boy?”
“Yeah. I’m stuck with another Westbury man. I’m never going to win any battles.”
Noah laughs and wipes at his face angrily. “Can you promise me that nothing will change?”
“I promise, Noah.”
It’s moments like these that make me despise Sterling even more. If he had been a better father maybe I could handle the situation with Noah better. I’m flying by the seat of my pants with each problem that arises. That’s not the way to raise a child. I could probably benefit from some classes or maybe even therapy to get over the issues I have with my parents. Either way, shit with Noah has to change. He has to know I’m here for him no matter what, even when I’m on tour or locked in the studio recording. He’s my priority in life.
So is Josie, and that’s why I need to tell her about this ridiculous book that is coming out. I understand that people have the freedom to say as they want, but you should never profit off ruining another person’s image or potentially their life. Writing a book about me, my band, or anyone else for that matter, without their consent, should be against the law. I don’t know what I’m more pissed about – the fact that this journalist was able to get her hands on Sam’s diaries and Mr. Moreno allowed it, or the fact that shit happened in my life that I never intended to tell Josie about. The Sam shit I can deal with, but I’m not so sure that Josie will be very keen on finding out about the other stuff and how much of a douche I really was.
I start preparing dinner for everyone. Over the past year or so I’ve become a self-proclaimed master with the grill. No one tells me my skills make their food taste nasty, so the title stays. Josie is my dessert maker. She makes a mean chocolate cake. It tastes even better when she’s not sharing it with my friends.
At least once a week we’re eating at each other’s houses. I believe there’s some sort of secret agreement that we switch, but I can’t confirm. I just do what I’m told and go where directed. It’s best to not ask too many questions. The only time I need to be prepared is when we’re going to Nick’s or he’s coming over here. I respect his relationship with my son, but that’s as far as it’s going for me. I can tolerate him, but I adore Aubrey. She’s a firecracker for sure... and a lifesaver.
Small, yet strong arms wrap around my waist causing me to put the knife that I’ve been using down. After wiping my hands with the nearby towel, I turn and pull Josie closer to me. She’s been crying and as much as I want to cup her face and smooth out her frown lines, the last thing she needs from me are remnants of meat on her skin.
“Everything okay?”
“I think so,” she says as she puckers up for a kiss for which I’m all too happy to oblige. “Noah just needs a little reassurance that you’re not replacing or making a substitute for him. He’s concerned that you won’t spend time with him. I reminded him that by the time the baby is old enough to do fun stuff with you, he’ll be going off to college and he seemed okay with that.”
I pull Josie into a hug so she won’t see the hurt and confusion etched across my face. If I’ve done something to give Noah that idea, then I’ve failed him as a father. Maybe I need to take a step back and reevaluate how I am with him... find ways to make him feel even more connected to me. Thing is, I’m not sure how. We share a common love for football and baseball, but aside from sports, Noah and I are two different people which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
I see a lot of me in Noah and it scares me. I was gung ho, balls to the wall, devoted to football. Camps, clinics, practice and game films made me happy until I met Josie. She was the icing on my proverbial cake. I had her and football at the same time and was happier than a pig in shit. That was until the sport I loved started slowly eating away at my soul. What I loved doing soon felt like a chore. The desire to achieve greatness went away little-by-little every time I stepped out onto the field or had a game film to watch. I no longer cared if I broke records or held titles, but others cared and I had to go out and make sure their dreams were coming true.
My father was a whole other story – one that’s hard to talk about. He’s the reason I quit, the reason why I gave up on what could’ve been an amazing career. He’s the reason I chose a school that I didn’t want and the coach who didn’t care if I was there or not. I gave my dad too much power over me and I won’t do that to Noah. He needs to be the one to make decisions about his career. If he plays football, great! I’ll be in the stands. If he decides to do something else, I’ve got his back one hundred percent. I won’t be Sterling, but I also won’t let him be a bum or walk all over his mother and me.
“Liam, are you okay?”
“What?” I pull back from her to find her eyes full of concern.
“Well, I’m not complaining about the marathon hug, but we have people due here any minute and your meat is getting warm.”
Josie realizes her blunder the moment the words cross her lips. I cock my eyebrow and move my hips back and forth, earning an epic eye roll.
“You’re horrible.”
I laugh and release her from my hold. “Hate to break it to you, but you said warm meat.”
Josie slaps me on the ass before moving to the other side of the kitchen to prepare what looks like salad and hopefully a chocolate cake for later. I should probably run out and get some flowers for when I drop the bomb about the book coming out. Who am I kidding? Flowers won’t even come close to making everything okay. I’m going to need a grand gesture, but I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to buy her forgiveness. I’m not. I don’t want it. I did what I had to do to at that time in my life. Had I known about Noah, I would’ve been back here in a heartbeat, but I didn’t. I can’t be faulted for my actions, at least I hope not.
“What are you looking at?”
Her question catches me off guard. I smile and shake my head slightly. “You. You’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Josie shrugs. “Easy,” she says as she walks over to me. “You asked, and I said yes.”
The backyard fills quickly with the gang, better known as the band and their families. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they all arrived together, but they’re just punctual. I watch out the window, looking at my two best friends with their kids while the wives are in the corner giggling about something. Even my wife is with them saying who knows what.
JD is holding a squirming Eden, who’s eager to get down and play. Once she was born, Josie, and I decided to put a swing set play structure in our backyard. The kids spend so much time over here we thought it’d be nice if they had a place to escape to and get out of our hair.
It’s odd to think about how far we’ve come and how we ended up in Beaumont. Me being here is easy to figure out, but Harrison and JD didn’t have to follow. They did and because of my decision to move back here, the band is struggling. We’re not a guaranteed sold out show any more and at best we’re an opening act. We’re not getting the calls we need, or the radio airplay. It’s my job to fix this so the kids have futures. I’m just not sure I can fix it here.
As soon as I step outside, Harrison and JD give up on dad duties and come over to the grill. Last summer, Josie and I decided to spruce up the backyard and had a custom patio with an outside kitchen installed along with a fire pit and pool. The backyard became our oasis. A place where we can spend time as a family, or entertain our frien
ds. I still prefer the tower on Friday nights, though, even if I can only go when it’s the off-season.
I motion toward the refrigerator and Harrison keeps up with his best man duties by grabbing us each a beer. There’s a built in can opener right on my counter and the tops fall directly into a bucket. It’s clear I’m amused by the simple things because that’s one of my favorite pieces in this outdoor kitchen.
“I feel like I just saw ya,” Harrison says as he hands me my beer. I take a long pull before setting it down so I can flip the meat on the grill.
“You work in my basement, of course you just saw me,” I say as I pull the lid down.
“Have you given any more thought to helping out Trixie?”
His question catches me off guard. I look at JD, who is magically off in la-la land with his bottle of beer. Clearly these two have been up to something.
“I wasn’t aware of any options.”
JD mutters something that I can’t quite make out and I look to Harrison for confirmation. He runs his hands over his beanie, his tell when something’s on his mind.
“What’s up?” I say to both of them.
“There’s a benefit concert being organized. A few of the musicians that have come through there are looking to save Metro from closing. They asked if we want to play. I told them I didn’t know, but they asked me to come back and play in the house band,” Harrison says straight to the point.
“Did you know this earlier?” Something tells me Harrison may have a hand in planning this benefit concert. It took a lot of convincing to get Harrison to leave Metro when Sam wanted to sign me and eventually us. But he was worth it. I thought that then and I still think that now.
“I did, but wasn’t sure how you’d react since I dropped the book bomb.”
I nod. He’s right. The book news is enough to ruin my day even though we should be celebrating. We will be celebrating. “Let’s eat and discuss it later,” I say as I take the meat off the grill.
JD whistles loudly and all the noise in the yard hushes. “Dinner,” he says, much to the delighted screams of five kids.
As soon as everyone is situated and they’re digging in, I tap my fork against my bottle of beer. I stand once I have everyone’s attention. “I know we’re together a lot and we’re as close as any family so tonight Josie, Noah and I want to thank you for coming over and celebrating with us. Earlier this afternoon we found out that the baby we’re adopting is a boy.”
The cheers are loud and boisterous. I watch for any sign that Noah is going to have a meltdown or cause any drama and I see none. He’s sitting between Quinn and Peyton, and the three of them are chatting away.
“Harrison and JD, I’ll be requiring your assistance with getting the room painted.”
“Wait, Dad?”
I turn my gaze to Noah, who is now standing. “I thought we could do it together.”
Josie gasps and quickly covers her mouth and I have to swallow hard to find my voice. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, buddy.” I tell him as I walk over to him and bring him into my arms.
Noah and I are both learning and adapting to the impending change. I have to learn what it’s like to have a newborn around and he has to learn to share. Together I think we can get it done.
The way the mirror on my dressing table is angled gives me the perfect opportunity to watch Liam undress. This is my favorite ritual, morning and night. I’ll take the chance anytime I can to watch him methodically peel off his clothes. He’s a man who unties his shoes first, placing them back on the shoe rack. His socks are next, followed by his shirt. My peeping tom ways are often rewarded when he’s wearing a dress shirt. Not only do I get to watch the muscles in his back flex as he pushes each button through the ridiculously small hole, but his undressing is prolonged. He takes his t-shirt off the same way every time and when he pulls the collar from behind and the shirt slowly lifts inch by inch, my mouth waters. My lips become dry and my knuckles ache from my hand clutching my hairbrush. The clank of his belt buckle and the almost too silent pop of the fabric from his button down jeans have me staring intently into the mirror. My make-up is only half off, my mouth wide open and I’m the picture of someone who needs serious help. And let’s not get started on the way he gets dressed...
He knows I watch him. This is a game to him. He could sleep in or stay up late, but he doesn’t. Liam gets up with me in the morning and goes to bed when I do at night and I’m starting to think it’s because his intention is to have me committed. I may or may not have a drooling issue when it comes to staring at my husband. You’d think that after watching him grow up that I’d be used to his body, but the truth of the matter is, he didn’t fully grow until he left Beaumont. I missed the transformation from teenage boy to man. Sometimes I think I’m happy that I did, but other times, I think about all the other women out there that have experienced his transformation. I hate them all. I’m jealous of them and I don’t know why. I have him now. He chose me.
His jeans drop to the ground and he kicks them aside, depriving me of the chance to watch him bend over to pick them up. I find myself leaning into my vanity to get a better look as his thumbs dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Men find women’s lingerie sexy and appealing. It turns them on. The look and feel teases them and they love it. I never thought about men in their underwear until I saw Liam in his. Over the years he’s maintained his muscles, yet has a more defined physique. His boxers aren’t sagging in places they shouldn’t. My husband could be an underwear model with his form fitting briefs, although I don’t know if I’d want the world to see what he only shares with me. The cotton fabric pools at his feet. He steps out of them and turns around, showing me his naked body... a body only for my eyes, my hands, my lips and any other part of me.
“How long are you going to stare at me?” I swallow hard as my eyes flash to his and a wicked grin plays across my lips.
“Until my eyes no longer work,” I tell him. “Or until you tell me to stop.”
“Hmm that’ll be never,” he says as he walks near me. It’s when he’s inches from my back that I can no longer see him; his presence is felt immensely in the energy we share. I’ve always known when he’s near. It can be both a blessing and a curse. After my last round of pregnancy tests, when I asked him to come home, I knew he was at the door before he even said my name. I didn’t want him to see me like that – a mess and crumbling on the floor because I failed again in giving him another child. I had hoped he’d respect the closed door, but he knew immediately and I can’t fault him for being the caring man that he is. He wanted to fix me, take away my pain, just as I would do for him. However, knowing when he’s about to touch me makes my skin tingle with anticipation. My body zings with electricity the moment before he touches me. He’s like my own personal current that I need in order to keep functioning.
Liam’s touch is light as a feather as he moves the strap of my nightgown down my shoulder. Lips that I’m eager for ghost across my skin. I feel my skin pebble, the goose bumps rising with anticipation as my other strap falls, leaving my nightgown barely covering my breasts.
He looks at me, his eyes meeting mine through the mirror as he watches the tips of his fingers travel along my collarbone. It’s been so long since we’ve been like this. There’s no rushing, or lack of foreplay. I’ve missed my husband and I want to tell him as much, but I’m at a loss for words as he sweeps my hair to the side and presses his lips against my neck. Liam presses into my back as his fingers push my flimsy nightgown down.
“I really like this color on you,” he says as he looks at me.
I glance at myself in the mirror. I can’t see the midnight blue gown that I was wearing only moments ago. “I’m not wearing a color.”
“You are, and it’s flesh-toned. The most beautiful color I’ve ever seen.” Liam quickly turns me on my stool and scoops me into his arms. His mouth captures the schoolgirl squeal I want to let out as his tongue meets mine. My arms wrap around his neck as he carri
es us the few steps to our bed where he gently sets me down.
“Seems we have a problem, Mrs. Westbury.”
“What’s that Mr. Page?” I say Page purposefully, earning a deep grunt from him. He shakes his head slowly as he takes in every inch of my body.
“Is that what you want?”
Pulling my lower lip in, I nod almost hesitantly. It’s a dangerous game, playing with Liam Page, but sometimes it’s warranted. Sometimes it’s needed. I’ve had the best of both worlds where he’s concerned. At times I’ll have the slow, sensual love making from my husband, while at others I’m rewarded with the rough and powerful fucking from my rocker.
I want the rocker tonight.
Sitting up, I push him away from the bed. His eyes widen as I guide his hand into my hair. My nightgown bunches at my waist as I squat down, level with his erection.
“If you picked me up in a bar, what would you do?”
“Don’t Jojo,” he says, not because he doesn’t want to be with me, but because he fears I’m trying to be someone I’m not. He doesn’t like to be reminded of who he used to be and I can understand that, but sometimes I want to be that bad girl who goes home with the rocker from the club.
Tonight I’m going to be her.
“I want this,” I say as I take him deep into my mouth. I look up at him as my mouth starts to pull away. The grip he has on my hair tightens as I pull him in again. My hands are spread out on his legs. My nails are digging into his thighs. I look at him again, my eyes pleading for him to give me this little fantasy and he does.
Liam takes a tight hold of my head in both hands and moves me back and forth. I hold onto him for stability, fearing that I might fall forward if I’m not careful. Liam moans as his hips thrust into me. I take everything he gives me and watch as his face morphs into ecstasy.
In the blink of an eye, I’m on my back with my panties being torn away. “Yes,” I whisper heavily as Liam buries himself deep within me. My leg is thrown over his shoulder as he pounds rapidly. Our bodies are slick with sweat, our thrusts matching our every breath. He holds my face, his hand spread out over my cheek while his thumb hovers over my mouth. My tongue darts out, licking the pad of his thumb as his eyes roll back. My hands grip the comforter as he moves in and out, increasing our tempo. When he grazes my clit, I scream out, begging for more.
My Kind of Forever Page 3