by L. D. Davis
I nodded in acknowledgment—even though he probably couldn’t see my head moving. I couldn’t make my feet move to the bed. I stood awkwardly by the bathroom door and watched him gaze at my legs. I began to feel very self-conscious when he finally dragged his eyes away from my body. He shook his head as if to clear it, cleared his throat, and attempted to straighten the messy bedding.
I finally got my feet to move and went to the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to get in it and mess it up again anyway.”
His eyes widened at that.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly.
“Sure it isn’t.” He winked at me and went into the bathroom.
I breathed a sigh of relief and got into the bed. As I lay on my side, I turned my nose to the pillow and inhaled. I was gratified to find that I was right. The bed did smell like him.
Grant came out of the bathroom a minute later. He got into the bed just as Dusky nosed the door open. Accustomed to sleeping with me, he jumped on the bed and sniffed around, making loud snuffling noises.
“Are you done yet?” Grant asked him impatiently after several moments.
“He’s trying to get comfortable in a new place. Your kids don’t sniff new surroundings?”
He sighed and gave me a dry look as he tried hard not to look as amused as he really was.
“Dusky, lay down,” I commanded.
He whined once, pawed at the bed three times, and then lay down at our feet.
“I’m going to buy him a dog bed,” Grant muttered as turned off the light.
The room was cast into darkness. The bed shifted slightly as he moved closer to me. A few heartbeats later, his hand found my hip and he tugged gently.
“Come here,” he murmured.
I did. I closed the distance between us and tangled my body with his and rested my head on his chest above his racing heart. One of his hands wove its way into my curls and his other hand slowly caressed my bare thigh. After a couple silent minutes, he sighed deeply and his whole body relaxed. My body relaxed, too. I melted into him and felt both the familiarity and the newness of his body.
I couldn’t describe how it felt to be held by him again. It was like coming home, or touching down after being in the sky for too long. You know the ground is there and you can feel it with your toes, but you still feel buoyant and a little short of breath.
Feeling content and safe for the first time in days, I began to drift away.
“I’m glad they missed,” I murmured on the verge of sleep.
“Hmm?”
“I’m happy that you didn’t get shot. I’m sorry I implied that I wished you had. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad you’re free of bullet holes.”
His arms tightened around me and he kissed the top of my head.
“Me too.”
I thought it would be awkward to wake up with Grant in the morning. I thought I’d wake up with his morning wood pressed against my butt, or even worse, I thought I’d wake up to discover I had been breathing in his face with rancid morning breath. Fortunately, I didn’t experience that kind of awkwardness.
I didn’t feel Grant’s body warmth when I began to stir. I did feel movement beside me, though, and someone tugging on my hair. When my eyes fluttered opened, I found myself looking into a pair of dark amber eyes, little eyes with long dark eyelashes. There was a little nose below those little eyes, and a little smiling mouth full of little white teeth below that.
“I counted your fweckles,” Natalie said, still tugging on my curls and watching them spring back into place. “You have one-hundred gazillion of them.”
“I think you may have over-counted by a few,” I said, my voice raspy from sleep.
“Why are you sleeping in Daddy’s bed?”
Her question made me feel like I just did something dirty, even though the circumstances were entirely innocent.
“Because your bed was full.”
“Full of what?” Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Full of you.” I poked her belly. She giggled and wiggled, and I smiled dammit.
“Natalie, I told you to leave Mayson alone,” Grant said, walking into the bedroom.
He was already mostly dressed in a gray suit. His tie hung around his neck and his shirt was still open a few buttons at the top.
The little girl stood up on the bed in her princess nightgown and held her arms out to her father.
“Catch me, Daddy!”
Automatically, he held out his arms. Natalie leaped into them, giggling again as she held onto her father. He kissed her cheek before putting her down and playfully swatting at her butt. He closed the door behind her as she ran out of the room, calling for Dusky.
Grant sauntered over to the bed and sat down beside me. He leaned down, pushed my hair out of my face, and kissed me. My toes curled and wriggled under the blanket as his mouth moved tenderly on mine.
“Good morning,” he said, once he pulled away a few inches.
I made myself breathe again. “Good morning.”
He gave me a quick peck on the lips and got up. “It’s time to rise and soar, butterfly. It’s seven a.m.”
Pulling myself into a sitting position, I said, “Seven? Why is that little hellion up so early?”
He laughed. “I don’t know. Kids are strange like that.”
He glanced at me a few times in the mirror as he tied his tie. “How did you sleep?”
I had actually slept better than I could remember sleeping in months, if not longer, but I didn’t say that.
“I slept fine. How long have you been up?”
“About forty minutes. I have to be in early today. Trust me, I did not want to get out of bed, not with you there.”
I started to talk but hesitated. I started again and stopped again. Grant watched me in the mirror. He turned around cautiously and watched me for a moment longer.
“What is it?” he asked warily.
I wanted to tell him that I felt overwhelmed, that maybe we were doing too much too fast. It had only been a matter of days since he came back into my life and we were already all kissy face and having sleepovers and family time with his kids and my dog. I woke up with a toddler in my face for goodness sake. A toddler!
I wanted to say that I needed some time and space because I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to be sitting in his bed in just a T-shirt and panties while he got ready for work, or to have my dresses hanging in his closet or my tampons and panty liners on the vanity in his bathroom next to one of the double sinks.
I wanted to say all that. I wanted to address it. I wanted to lash out and scream at him and take my dog and go, but I sat there, staring mutely at him. He stared back at me, waiting for me to say what I needed to.
When after a minute I still didn’t speak, Grant slowly approached the bed with his thoughtful gaze on the floor. When he reached me, he sat down beside me again and crossed his legs comfortably at the ankles. He was silent for another few moments before talking.
“You used to be so damn fearless and impulsive.” He glanced at me with a half a smile. “You did what you wanted to do, said what you wanted to say. You always jumped into situations without looking first, and without any forethought about the possible consequences. You were always getting into trouble as a result. I used to get so mad.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to a low, secretive decibel. “Maybe what you didn’t know is that I secretly loved that about you, at least at first; until heroin became your primary focus.”
He took my hand into his and squeezed gently as he looked down at me.
“You have made remarkable, good changes in your life. I know it’s hard, and I know you are still struggling with some things, but every day that goes by that you don’t give in is a win. You have a hell of a lot of wins, Mayson. I am so proud of you. You have come so far, but…” He squeezed my hand again, and his smile turned sad. “You’re scared—all the time. I don’t know what happened to you, but I don’t want you to
be afraid of me, or afraid of yourself and what you might do to me.”
I swallowed a few times. My voice was thick with restrained emotion when I spoke. “So, what are you trying to tell me? I’m not getting any younger here.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn’t smile.
“Stop worrying. Stop thinking so hard. Stop analyzing. Follow your heart and be a little impulsive.”
“You sound like a Wilson Phillips song,” I managed to say, praying that I wouldn’t cry.
He did smile then.
“At the risk of sounding like another Wilson Phillips song, break free from your emotional chains.”
I groaned and dropped my head into my free hand as I shook my head. “Please stop. I can’t have a corny boyfriend. I refuse.”
His mouth touched my neck and I gasped in surprise.
“What about a horny boyfriend?” he whispered near my ear.
“That was still corny,” I murmured as he gently tugged on my earlobe with his teeth.
Patting my thigh, he sat back against the headboard. “Come here.”
“I am here,” I said sarcastically.
“Here.” He pointed at his lap.
I hesitated a moment, but then I moved and straddled his lap, facing him. My limbs shook and my belly fluttered nervously as one of his hands pressed gently on the back of my head and the other eased up and down my back. Our mouths met, slowly at first, with curious exploration, but as his hand moved under my shirt to my bare skin, the kiss deepened.
I began to lose myself in him, and began to forget about my anxieties and what I was and was not ready for. My guilt and self-pity faded into black. My morning routines that I had been so adamant about came to nothing as I wrapped my arms around Grant’s neck and kissed him.
We created our own little bubble and blocked out the rest of the world. There were no jobs to get to. The sounds of the kids playing with the dog in the other room became muffled as if we were listening from under water. There was nothing, but his mouth and my mouth, and his hands roaming up and down my bare back, and his rock hard arousal beneath me.
His hands gripped my ass and he pulled me hard against him. I moaned softly and he moaned with me. Then he was kissing my face, and chin, and then my neck. His hands moved up my sides, over my breasts and back down again, restless and eager to touch me everywhere.
Hands touching. Groping. Tugging. Pulling. Slapping. Laughing.
The images burst into my brain so suddenly that I gasped with the shock of it and instantly pulled away from him. My stomach roiled.
Grant’s lustful gaze quickly shifted to deep concern as he took my face into his hands. He looked into my eyes, which I knew were wild with fear.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I…” No other words came out. I put my trembling hands on his and shook my head, unable to find the words.
The door burst open and Natalie and Dusky tumbled inside the room, momentarily distracting Grant. I snapped out of my frozen fear and scrambled off him and onto the floor, tripping over kid and dog alike. I raced into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door behind me.
After a couple minutes of noise, there were a few moments of silence before Grant lightly rapped on the door.
“Mayson?”
I leaned on the vanity with my head lowered as I tried to avoid my reflection in the large mirror.
“I’m okay,” I said as I tried to sound okay. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for work.”
A pause, and then I heard, “I do have a key to this door. I can go get it, or you can let me in.”
I sighed with annoyance, and after another few seconds, I opened the door. He stood on the other side, watching me carefully for a little bit. I was preparing myself for the barrage of questions and demands for answers, but that didn’t happen.
Grant walked in, took me into his arms and embraced me. I was so surprised, that I didn’t embrace him back.
“This is the part where you put your arms around me and hug me back,” he said playfully. “Maybe I need a damn hug, too, you selfish wench.”
I laughed once, with relief and gratitude, and hugged him back. We stayed that way for a minute or so. It felt so nice to just be held. I didn’t want to let go, but we both had places to be, and we released each other.
“I have to finish getting ready and get out of here. I have bad guys to hunt.”
“The life of a human repo man,” I teased, my voice a little hoarse.
“Oh! That should be my street name. Repo Man.”
I shook my head and frowned. “You were corny thirteen years ago, but I think you have some kind of dad gene or something that makes you even cornier.”
He laughed and kissed my cheek.
“I hope I see you tonight after your meeting. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”
“What about Dusky?”
“Leave him here. At least he’s not alone all day, and if you can’t or won’t come tonight, I’ll take care of him.”
I pointed at him. “Don’t try to steal my dog. I stole him fair and square from Donya.”
“I can’t make any promises, Baby Girl.”
He kissed my cheek again and left.
A half hour later, mostly recovered from my mini breakdown, I walked out of the bedroom, just about ready to leave for work. I was running late, but for once, I wasn’t too bent out of shape about it. I was a little anxious, but not ready to turn into a monster about it. I still planned to stop for a coffee and pastry along the way, even if I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it like I usually did.
A young, dark-haired woman was in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. She looked up and smiled at me.
“Hello,” she said, in a French accent. “I’m Juliette. Housekeeper, nanny…” She looked at Dusky. “Dog walker.”
“Oh, damn.” I felt bad for leaving yet another soul for the woman to care for. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I can—”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Mr. Alexander said he will pay me a little more for the dog, and I do not mind. I like animals, and the children really like him.”
I glanced at said children, seated at the dining room table with their breakfasts.
“Okay, well…thank you.”
Juliette’s eyes quickly looked me over before she smiled again and turned away to tend to whatever nannies and housekeepers did. I felt rather awkward, as if I was doing a walk of shame, even though it was far from the truth.
“Mayson, I made you bweakfast,” Natalie said excitedly.
I looked at the small stack of pancakes on the table and raised an eyebrow, but as I approached, I saw that Natalie had two plates in front of her. One had a half-eaten meal on it, but the other one had two pancakes on it. There was a smiley face with curly hair messily drawn in whipped cream on the top pancake. Next to the smiling pancakes was a half a heart made out of strawberry slices.
“I ran out of wroom,” she said, pointing to the half heart. “But it’s a heart.”
The smiley face was a hot mess. The smile was crooked, one eye was bigger than the other, and the hair was beginning to melt, but…shockingly, I loved it. Natalie looked very proud of it.
“Thank you, Natalie.” I was surprised to feel tears prickling at my eyes.
I sat down beside her, and faster than the wind, Juliette was at my side with a knife, fork, and a small plate of bacon. She returned less than a minute later with a mug of coffee and a dish of cream and another full of sugar.
Part of me wanted to run away from the little domestic scene, run far, far away, but more of me than I would have imagined wanted to do as Grant said. I wanted to stop worrying, stop thinking, stop analyzing, and follow my heart.
Looking down at my breakfast, I felt that maybe Natalie got it right. Maybe my heart was right where I was.
I smiled at the kids and dug in.
Chapter Thirteen
“Wh
ere are my shoes?” I asked, turning in a circle in the middle of Grant’s bedroom. “They were right by the bed before I went into the shower.”
“I don’t remember seeing them,” Grant said distractedly as he fooled with his cufflinks.
I dropped to the floor and looked under the bed, but they weren’t there. As I got to my feet, I heard a very distinct CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP coming from the living room. My suspicions high, I walked out of the bedroom.
“Natalie Alexander!” I said in a mom-like voice I didn’t know I had until I started dating Grant and his kids. “I told you not to touch my shoes!”
“But I want to go to the balway!” she cried, wobbling in my four-inch heels.
“It’s ballet,” Alex said, not taking his eyes off his game.
“Natalie,” Juliette said admonishingly as she came out of the laundry room with a basket of clothes. She proceeded to chastise the child in French and English.
As she sat down on the floor to take the shoes off, Nat said, “I don’t understand Fwrance talking, Julie.”
“She basically said you’re an idiot,” Alex said casually from the couch.
“Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery.” I didn’t want an argument to erupt. I bent over and picked up my shoes, holding them in front of Natalie’s face. “These are Alexander McQueen pumps, Nat. I know you don’t understand now what that means, but you keep your stinky little feet out of my shoes.”
Even with help from the au pair, it took us another twenty minutes to get out of the house and get the kids loaded into the car. We were dropping them off with Grant’s mother in New Jersey on our way to Taylor’s performance in Swan Lake.
I didn’t go inside his mother’s house with them. When she found out we were dating again, she didn’t object, but she hadn’t been happy about it, either. The last time she saw me, I was most likely high. Plus, I was the person who introduced her daughter to heroin and was ultimately responsible for her death. On top of all that, I took advantage of her son’s good heart. I didn’t blame the woman for not being happy about our relationship.
Despite that, and despite my own neurotic self, our relationship had been progressing nicely. I’d spend the night at Grant’s two or three times a week. Grant and his offspring did steal my dog, which I wasn’t too happy about, but it only made sense. Someone was almost always home during the day at his place, and Dusky loved the kids and the kids loved him. He got plenty of walks and was rarely lonely. That also saved me from having to walk him late at night near my place and risk running into you-know-who.