by Ivy Fox
It’s three in the morning, and the only place I feel I can breathe is outside on this porch. Cam is passed out drunk, slouched over the kitchen table, and Gabe, after smoking a full pack, has turned in, too. But I’m still too wired to lie down. My mind is a complete mess, and my insides are a hurricane of emotions. The only thing that takes it away is the sound of me sharpening my knife, the repeated labor making my feelings lull with the vibration and sound of the blade running through the stone.
My small reprieve is tarnished the minute I feel her presence at my back, but still, I continue to sharpen my knife, willing her to say the first word. She sits beside me, silently, and stares at the night sky as if it may have all the answers to the innumerous questions she has floating in her head.
“I love it here at night,” she says, her voice calm and tranquil, leaning back on the porch steps.
“Me too.”
“The only sounds you hear are from Mother Nature herself. Well, sometimes that’s interrupted by Cam’s snoring, but it’s still some of the best music I’ve ever heard. It comforts me. Gives me peace.”
“I’m glad,” I reply, thankful she’s found peace here.
“I’m not married, Michael. She might have been, but I am not,” she reinforces, but this time, there is no rage behind her statement, only certainty.
“I heard you.”
“I’m not her. You understand that, don’t you, Michael?” she asks, the first hint of doubt in her voice surfacing. But I understand now why she was so adamant against my claim on her being wedded to someone else. She doesn’t recognize herself as being this Jennifer person. In her mind, she’s always been Hope.
Our Hope.
“I do, sweetheart. Or at least I’m starting to,” I tell her.
“Will you force me to see him?” she asks nervously.
“I could never force you to do anything you didn’t feel comfortable in doing, Hope. You know that, right?” I ask, praying she never feels pressured in any way to do something against her will.
“I know. I just needed to hear you say it,” she replies, a small smile reaching her lips.
“But you may feel differently once you do see him. It may bring back who you were. Bring your memories back, even.”
“What if I don’t want them? What if I’m happy being who I am now?”
“That’s your decision to make, sweetheart. I won’t persuade you either way.”
“No?”
“No, baby. I’m too biased to do such a thing.” And I’m blessed with yet another small smile.
“So you don’t mind if I stay? I mean until the baby’s born?”
“If I had it my way, you’d stay indefinitely. But my wishes and desires are mine alone. I would never try and put them on you if you don’t feel the same,” I confess, hating the reminder of how she’s still looking at apartments in town with Aurora. But tonight has been a night of revelations, so I might as well put everything out on the table now. From this afternoon’s chaotic discussion, she made it clear that her feelings might not be as strong as our own, but if she’s staying, she has a right to know how we’re feeling. How I feel for her.
“You’re angry, aren’t you? Because of what I said? Me saying I belonged to no one, I mean,” she says calmly, and it hurts just as much as the first time when she yelled it out at us.
“I could never be angry at you, Hope. But I have to admit, I’m not exactly thrilled by the comment, either,” I smirk, hoping it comes out nonchalant at least.
“You’re hurt,” she states, making me realize my expression must show more than I want it to.
“Would you think less of me if I admitted that I was?”
“No. It would probably just remind me how lies and omissions affect everyone, even the hardest of men.”
With that comment, she stands up from her seat and starts to walk back inside, but all of me wants to ask her if maybe deep down in that broken heart of hers, she recognizes she does belong to someone—that she belongs to us.
“Have a change of heart, Hope?” I croak instead, turning my head around to see her full figure glow under the pale moonlight.
“I belong to this baby that I carry inside me, Michael. He’s who I belong to.”
“I understand,” I say and turn around, picking up my knife yet again, when I hear her sigh behind me.
“That doesn’t mean it makes me any less yours, though.”
Chapter 27
Hope
“Remind me again of why I’m here?” I ask, feeling all sorts of wrong.
“Because you’re family and this is a family event. It’s fucking Thanksgiving, Hope, a time to give thanks and all,” Aurora replies sarcastically at my side.
“Aurora, I’m big as a house, and the only thanks I want to give is when this kid finally decides to leave my body, as he’s transformed into this monstrosity,” I groan, trying to rearrange my dress for the fiftieth time tonight. Damn thing feels like it’s going to pop a button at any moment.
“What are you on about? You’re glowing,” she states, looking at me like I’m insane.
“I’m not glowing Aurora, I’m sweating bullets! I know it’s November, but my body temperature right now is still set to July, or hell, take your pick. I want to lie down, have a foot massage, and eat a pint of ice cream. Now that’s a Thanksgiving party.”
Aurora leans her head back and laughs out loud, but I don’t think she knows just how serious I am. I’ve come to full term, and this kid is coming out any day now. Coming to the Archangel’s clubhouse to celebrate Thanksgiving was not on my to-do list at all. But things between my men and me are still tense. They’ve gone back to treating me with kid gloves, and I’ve taken advantage of that distance for a couple of months. I needed to process all I had learned from Michael’s little investigation on me.
Had I been upset when I discovered the truth?
Yeah, I think upset is an understatement.
These past few months, I have gone through all the stages of grief. At least that’s what it felt like for me. I’m not sure if Cam, Gabriel, or even Michael understand what I’m going through. I have no recollection of Jen’s life, only my own. So, for them to tell me all those things and say that this person is, in fact, me, well, it’s mind-boggling.
So, the space they gave me was welcomed. I needed it to think things through and see what in fact I wanted for myself. But even after all these months of careful deliberation, the answer is still the same.
I want my life.
The one I’m living now. The one where I’m going to be a mother for the first time and the one where I get to have three amazing, loving, and sexy-as-hell men at my side. This is the only life I know how to live. The only one that rings true to me, that makes any kind of sense, in my mind and in my heart.
I’ve been trying to mend fences, so when Cam asked if I wanted to come to the club’s annual Thanksgiving dinner, I had said yes, forgetting I was nine months pregnant and better off at home. Instead, I am surrounded by leather-wearing bikers and their skinny, gorgeous girlfriends and wives. Yeah, definitely chose wrong on that one.
“You’re overthinking shit again,” Aurora says next to me and I flip her off, something I picked up from her. She laughs again, amused with my pissed-off mood, but then nods to the side as if trying to pull my attention to something else.
“Think you’re flipping off the wrong girl here, darling,” she says, and when I see what she’s on about, my pissy mood just goes up three notches.
“Oh, hell no!” I blurt out, walking to the two skanks that have their claws on my Cam, as briskly as my swollen feet allow.
“This is going to be so much fun,” I hear Aurora behind me whistling.
It would be funny if I was intent on just giving those skin-clad women a piece of my mind. They’ve got Cam cornered at the bar, and he’s doing everything he can to politely shrug off their advances. He looks uncomfortable, which is so unlike the cocky man he is. But their slimy hands running arou
nd his body, like they already have a pretty good carnal knowledge of what he can do with it, blinds me with rage.
I cough into my hand, grabbing the trio’s attention, and put a hand behind my back, showcasing my very large belly.
“You skanks got your fill yet? Cause I might be nine months pregnant, but if you don’t take your filthy hands off my man, I have no qualms about tearing both of you to pieces,” I clearly enunciate, not to be misquoted in any way. Could I have approached this in a different way? A more civil one, considering there are kids running around? I could have, sure, but I doubt these women would back down if I asked pretty please.
“What? Lady, didn’t I see you come in with Michael? Aren’t you his old lady?” The one on the left asks, with too much eye makeup for any dinner party in my book.
“No, I saw her all googly eyes with Gabe. She’s Gabe’s, not Michael’s,” the other one responds, who is an identical copy of the first, if not a tad more provocatively dressed, with her miniskirt showcasing most of her ass.
“Well, that means Cam is up for grabs, and he’s been a very naughty boy being away from us for so long. Haven’t you missed us, baby? We sure have missed you,” Eye-whore coos at him.
“Are you deaf as well as stupid? Let me make this abundantly clear for you, and be sure to spread the word around, so there are no mistakes in the future. Michael is mine, Gabriel is mine, and Cam is most definitely mine. They belong to me. You got that? So do us all a favor and fuck the hell off!” I shout, grinding my teeth, so I don’t swing my fists in their faces.
“Bitch, who do you think you are?” Skank number two asks, outraged.
I feel a hand behind my back and turn to see Gabriel to my left and Michael to my right, while Aurora is laughing into her fist to the side.
“Everything okay here, sweetheart?” Michael asks, looking distastefully at the twins. I can’t take my eyes off Cam, who is looking at me like he’s just won the Powerball or something. His smile is spread out so wide, that I almost miss the mist in his hazel eyes, threatening an avalanche of tears to be shed. I know he’s trying hard to keep them at bay, since crying in the clubhouse, even if it is tears of happiness, won’t look too good for him. But still, one of them slips, and I instinctively take the two steps, reducing the distance from him, already forgetting the two trashy redheaded bimbos to his side.
“You okay, darling?” I tease with the endearment he always uses for me.
“I’m better than okay, Hope. I’m so fucking better than okay right now,” his voice is rough, as he leans in and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes and place my head on his chest, hearing the drumbeat a mile a minute.
“Cam, you can’t be serious right now? Look at her! She’s fucking huge. And we all heard the rumors already. The baby isn’t even yours.”
“Did you not hear my old lady just now? I think she told you ladies to fuck off. So by all means, don’t let the door slap you on your asses. And if I ever hear you talk about my son like that again, I’ll introduce you both to the Dark Angel myself,” Cam says, faking intimidation because only I know he would never hurt a woman, no matter how vile she was. Still, it does the trick, as I see the twins pack up their shit and leave the premises, in a huff.
“God, I love these family get-togethers. Nothing says drama more than family,” Aurora laughs out, but I’m loving being in Cam’s arms too much to give her the sassy reply she deserves. I feel Michael’s hand brushing my hair, and Gabriel grabbing mine lovingly.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper to them, and I feel the warmth in their silent response.
“Michael?” I hear a stern male voice call, and the loving tenderness Michael is offering me is taken away to answer him. I feel Cam’s back stiffen and Gabriel’s hand grips me tighter, so the voice can only belong to their club’s president—Uri. I turn my face from Cam’s chest far enough to have a clear view of the two—Michael’s perfectly stoic form and Uri’s displeased one.
“You sure about the statement you’re making tonight?” Uri asks Michael, his black eyes so intense they look like pools of petrol ready to be lit on fire with the flick of a match.
“Never been so positive of something all my life,” Michael responds without missing a beat.
“There’s no turning back from this. You realize that?”
“There’s nothing to take back, Uri. My mind is made up.”
“Hope you don’t regret it, then,” Uri says, turning his back on his nephew and the three of us as if our mere presence left a bad taste in his mouth.
“I won’t,” Michael says, looking at me, not caring if his uncle heard him or not. He walks right at me, and picks me up from Cam’s embrace, lifting me in the air, getting howls and yells from the men around. I slap his shoulder a couple of times so he’ll put me down, since I probably weigh a ton. When I get my feet on the ground, his hands are in my short hair, bringing our foreheads to touch each other.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. Just club business.”
“Club business? In other words, none of my business, is that right?” I ask, my eyebrow up in suspicion. They have a tendency to say that a lot when it has to do with the club, but something tells me that it wasn’t all club business as he wants to let me believe. Michael kisses the tip of my nose, and a little part of me melts at his bold act of tenderness in a place so used to the contrary.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asks, in a silly attempt to move off topic. I give him a side smile and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Yes, you have. More than once. Starting to feel that you like me looking as big as a house,” I tease.
“You look no such thing. You’re glowing and look more delicious than any food served today. I have half a mind to finish this dinner fast and take you home to eat my dessert,” he says, pulling me closer to him, his hands grasping both of my ass cheeks possessively. I feel Gabriel and Cam on the sidelines, getting just as anxious to show their own possessive nature on me tonight. Much like I showed my own, I guess.
“I didn’t make any dessert, Michael,” I point out teasingly, fully aware of what his intentions are.
“You playing coy with me, sweetheart?”
“Maybe,” I reply, biting my lower lip. Michael lowers his mouth to my ear, kissing the small patch of skin behind it, sending heated chills through all of my body with one touch. His raspy breath in my ear makes mine accelerate.
“Instead of rushing home, perhaps I’ll find a room upstairs and eat my dessert right here,” he continues, discreetly cupping my sensitive core in his hand. “Maybe I’ll even bring Cam and Gabriel with me, too. Make everyone here listen to you moan and scream out our names in ecstasy. Give them the soundtrack to the porno I’m sure they’re already playing in their heads. But you and I know how much better the real thing is, don’t we, sweetheart?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I gasp, even though my lids are already at half mast, loving the idea of my three men eating me out at once.
“Then don’t tempt me, Hope. Be a good ol’ lady and behave, otherwise I’ll make good on my threat. I’d love nothing more than to fuck you right here and now, and let everyone of these motherfuckers know you belong to us.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone knows already,” I beam. “And FYI, I hate that term—Old lady. Couldn’t you guys come up with another name to call girlfriends?”
“That’s not the name for girlfriend.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” he smirks. “It’s Mama.”
“You’re shitting me?” I laugh out.
“Honest to God,” he starts to snicker.
“You call girlfriends Mama? Then what the hell is an ol’ lady?”
“Our wife.”
My face must go a thousand shades of red, because Michael has mercy on me and doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he leads me back to our table, followed by Cam and Gabriel, so we can finally start this Thanksgiving dinner party.
After the skanks who were trying to move in on my turf disappear, the rest of the night runs quite smoothly, actually. Everyone has a million stories and anecdotes to tell, and I find that most of them include my three men as the main characters. At one point, I laugh so hard, I nearly pee my panties, which is a definite possibility since being pregnant means I no longer have any control of my bladder.
Overall it’s an incredible night, but I have a feeling my night is yet to begin, since all my guys have been very touchy-feely with me all evening. I think their gloves are finally coming off, and I am about to see what a couple of months of abstinence do to a man when he gets his woman.
I’m putting on my coat as Cam and Michael say their farewells, and Gabriel gets our truck to take us home, when I feel a shadow fall to my side.
“That was quite a performance back there,” Uri says, his tone even and smooth.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, not knowing what performance he’s referring to.
“You should be,” he says, and the sense I always had that Uri wasn’t my number one fan is now stamped on his forehead, leaving me without any further doubt.
“It isn’t right, what you’re doing with my men, and it also isn’t fair to you,” he states, but I don’t hear any friendly caution to his words, just a warning.
“Uri, I don’t think we know each other that well for you to say what’s fair for me, or what you believe is right or not when it pertains to my life and those I choose to share it with,” I deadpan.
“True. But see this place? This is my house, my club. And those three right there, are my men, not yours,” he says, pointing at my guys, who are all waiting for me outside by the truck.
“This little show you just pulled off tonight—you might feel good about it. Might even be gloating how you put those two women in their places. But don’t delude yourself. You can look down on them all you like. Think you’re better than them, even. But to any man in this house, when they look at you, they will only see the same nametag you’ve branded those women with,” he rebukes, and his words feel like a branding iron to my skin.