Second Chance Dad

by Angela Benson

  “We make a good pair, don’t we?”

  Monique’s breath caught in her throat. They did make a good pair. They were good parents to their two children. All that was missing from this almost-family situation was a committed relationship between her and Dillon. She knew he cared about her, that he enjoyed her company, her conversation and her body. But she didn’t know any more because Dillon hadn’t revealed any more.

  “I need to be with you tonight,” he whispered against her ear. “It’s been too long.”

  She felt the same way, but she didn’t see how they could manage it with both boys under the same roof with them. “We can’t, Dillon.”

  “I know we can’t make love, but there’s nothing to stop me from holding you, is there? Can’t I hold you tonight, Monique?”

  No request could have been sweeter. “All night long, if you want.” She pressed closer to him. “Oh, Dillon, I need you, too. So much.”

  “Shhh…” he said. “Why don’t you go get the cookies from Ma and round up the boys while I get myself together?”

  She glanced down at his lap. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. Now go.”

  Monique reluctantly left Dillon and did as he suggested. In no time at all, she’d gotten the boys and the cookies and they were on their way to her house. Once there, she and Dillon quickly prepared a light dinner, which they ate over a subdued but not unhappy table. After dinner, the two of them helped the boys with their schoolwork and then joined them in a couple of rounds of a new video game Glenn had begged her to buy. Finally, the boys’ bedtime rolled around and the adults shuffled them off to bed.

  Dillon dropped his arm around Monique’s shoulder and pulled her close to him as soon as they shut the door to the boys’ room. “I love them dearly,” he said, “but I thought eight-thirty was never going to come.”

  She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know what you mean.”

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, they walked to the family room and sank down onto the overstuffed couch. Dillon immediately pulled Monique onto his lap and began to place caressing kisses down the side of her neck.

  She leaned back and enjoyed his touch, thinking life couldn’t get much better. Dillon had feelings for her. Deep feelings. She just needed to wait until he was ready to share them. She believed she could last that long.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he asked, his voice hoarse with passion.

  She shifted on his lap and the feel of him hard against her forced a moan from her lungs. “I think I have some idea.”

  He pushed his erection against her.

  “We can’t, Dillon,” she reminded him.

  “I know.” He placed a hand over her breast. “Just let me touch you. I promise I won’t go any further.”

  His touch, as usual, set off rockets in her. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” she said.

  The chuckle he gave in response was dry. “You have a point there.” He pressed her head against his shoulder. “Okay, we’ll just sit here. It’ll be torture, but I have to hold you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Monique and the boys had an active weekend with a trip to the zoo and a movie. She’d offered to let them camp out in her backyard, but they preferred to wait for Dillon to get back. She took that to mean that the troubled waters between Glenn and Dillon had settled. As a matter of fact, Glenn seemed totally okay about the incident.

  She didn’t know who was happier with Dillon’s return on Sunday night—her or the boys. They monopolized his time, giving him a blow-by-blow account of their weekend without him before starting in with endless questions about their upcoming adventure. Monique sat next to Dillon, his fingers teasingly caressing her neck, and she enjoyed the entire evening.

  After the boys were in bed and they were alone, Dillon pulled her into his arms. “I missed you,” he said. He captured her lips in a kiss that told her how much. When he pulled away, they were both out of breath. “We’ve got to stop this, you know.”

  She grinned up at him. “Stop what? Kissing?”

  He pulled her closer. “Stop just kissing. We need some time alone.”

  Monique agreed, but she didn’t know where they would find the time. “Any suggestions for how we do that?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “We could share a sleeping bag during our camp-out.”

  “And what would we do with the four curious eyes that would be on us all the time?”

  He sat down on the couch and pulled her onto his lap. “You sure know how to spoil a fantasy. We could always ask my parents to keep them for a weekend, and we could go somewhere together.”

  She shook her head. The thought of asking his mother to keep the boys so they could make love made her uncomfortable. “You can’t be serious. You’d really ask your mother to keep the boys so we could have a rendezvous? I’d never be able to look the woman in the face again.”

  He rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. “You have a point. You and Ma are becoming pretty friendly. I guess it would be awkward. What if we asked Donald?”

  “I don’t think we should ask anybody to keep them. We’ll just have to take advantage of any opportunities that present themselves.”

  “Like we did the weekend after Halloween.”

  “Exactly.”

  He grunted. “What if we have to wait until next Halloween before we make love again?”

  She smiled, unable to resist teasing him. “I can wait, can’t you?”

  He didn’t bother answering that ridiculous question. He lowered his head and teased her lips with his own. He’d meant the kiss as a challenge to her. She’d said she could wait a year. Well, his plan had been to prove to her that she could no more wait than he could. But somewhere between the plan forming in his mind and his lips pressing against hers, he’d become his own victim.

  Dillon wasn’t sure he was going to make it through Thanksgiving Day. Every time he looked at Monique, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to throw her over his shoulder, take her someplace and have his way with her. Thank goodness she’d spent most of the morning in the kitchen with his mother, or he’d have made a fool of himself for sure.

  He looked up from the football game he was watching on television and took a quick glance at the kitchen door, hoping to get another glimpse of her. Okay, so he was a masochist. He couldn’t be around her without wanting her, and she couldn’t be out of his sight without him thinking about her. He’d definitely lost control of this relationship.

  Donald dropped down on the couch next to him, a bag of freshly roasted peanuts in his hand. His father and the boys were out back roasting them now. “What’s up, bro?” he asked, throwing back a couple of peanuts. “You can’t stand for her to be out of your sight?”

  Dillon didn’t want to have this conversation with his brother, so he got up and went out onto the porch. It was November, so the weather was cool but not yet cold. He sat down on the front porch steps.

  The sound of the screen door closing behind him told him Donald had followed him outside. “No need to be rude, man,” Donald said. “You can’t get away from me anyway. So what’s up with you and Monique? And don’t tell me nothing because I’ve got eyes in my head and I know better.”

  Dillon cut a warning glance at his brother. “If you know so much, why don’t you tell me?”

  “Well,” Donald said, popping more peanuts in his mouth. “I think she’s in love with you. The question is, how do you feel about her?”

  Dillon’s heart slammed against the walls of his chest at his brother’s declaration. Monique was in love with him? “And what makes you think Monique is in love with me?”

  Donald stuffed more peanuts in his mouth. “I have eyes, man. Anybody can see it from the way she looks at you. Even Ma’s noticed it. You’ve been doing a lot of looking yourself. Have you told her yet that you love her?”

  “No,” he said. His chest felt tight. “Why would I tell her that?”

  “Because
it’s true?”

  “No way. I’m a lot of things, but crazy I’m not. And I’d have to be crazy to fall in love with Monique again.”

  “There’s an asylum down the road. When do you want me to sign you up?”

  Dillon cut a glance at his brother. “I think you’re the one who needs to go to that asylum.”

  “Funny. Come off it, Dillon. You love her.”

  “I think I know my own feelings, Donald.”

  “So you’re telling me that you don’t have strong feelings for Monique?”

  “That’s not what I said. I said I’m not in love with Monique. But I do have feelings for her.” Very strong feelings, he added to himself.

  “Well, you certainly act like you love her. You spend all your time with her.”

  “I’m spending time with my son,” he said, though he knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He’d just minutes ago been thinking about his need to be alone with Monique.

  “Then why are you always touching her? You can’t be in the same room with her without touching her. Tell me why that is.”

  Dillon didn’t have to tell Donald anything, and he decided that he wasn’t. What he felt for Monique was strong, but it wasn’t love. He wasn’t stupid enough to let himself fall in love with her again. No, she’d hurt him too much for him to allow himself to go down that road again.

  But he couldn’t deny that she still had some hold over him. He’d hoped it was all physical attraction, but he knew it was more. Maybe it was physical attraction coupled with the fact that she was his son’s mother. He wasn’t sure. He just knew that he enjoyed being with her, enjoyed making love to her, enjoyed seeing her with his boys.

  He and Monique had become friends. Okay, they’d become lovers. But they weren’t in love. He didn’t think she loved him any more than he believed he loved her. They had come together because of the boys. He didn’t try to tell himself otherwise. The truth was, had Monique’s husband not died, she would not be in his life now and he would never have known his son.

  “You say you’re not in love with her,” Donald said, interrupting his thoughts, “but I don’t believe it. But let’s put that aside for a minute. She’s in love with you, Dillon. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

  “You’re wrong, baby brother. Monique is no more in love with me than I am in love with her.”

  “Then why have you been sleeping with her?”

  Dillon bristled. “Who says I’m sleeping with her?”

  “No one had to say anything.” Donald shook his head. “You’re so transparent, brother. I know she was with you the weekend Ma and Daddy took the boys to visit Darnell.”

  Dillon looked at his brother, his mouth open. He’d been so sure no one had known.

  “You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Donald said. “Man, if you had looked at that bedroom door one more time that night I came over, I was going to go in there and tell her hello.”

  “You knew she was with me?”

  Donald nodded.

  “How’d you know?”

  “How could I not? It’s in your voice when you talk about her, in your eyes when you look at her. You’re happy, Dillon, or you could be, if you’d let yourself. Not many people get the second chance that you and Monique are getting. Don’t be stupid and let it slip away.”

  Donald clapped Dillon on his shoulder. Then he got up and walked into the house, leaving Dillon alone with his thoughts.

  He was attracted to Monique, Dillon told himself. He enjoyed her company and he cared about her. But love? He shook his head. He couldn’t love her. He was much smarter than that. Wasn’t he?

  The Bells sat down to Thanksgiving dinner at exactly two o’clock. Mr. Bell’s place, now empty, was at one end of the table, Mrs. Bell’s at the other, while Dillon and the boys took one side and Monique and Donald, the other. Dillon tried to keep the conversation he’d had with his brother out of his mind, but it wasn’t easy with Monique seated across from him. He could barely keep his eyes off her. He might not be in love with her, but she had burrowed under his skin. No doubt about it.

  He watched as she leaned over and spoke with his mother. Both women chuckled at the shared secret. They’d become friends and that knowledge caused him deep satisfaction. He looked around the table and realized he had a lot to be thankful for this year. The boys, his parents, his brothers. And Monique. Yes, he was thankful for her. For the courage she’d had in bringing his son back to him.

  His father ambled out of the kitchen with the turkey and his big carving knife. After placing the platter on the table, he rubbed the big knife against a big fork, summoning everyone’s attention.

  “You know I’m not one for speeches,” his father said, when everyone looked at him. “But I…actually, we…that’s me and my woman down there…just wanted to give thanks for our family. There are three generations of Bell men here today, and we couldn’t be happier about it. We have two of our three boys with us and the other one, though he’s not here in body, he’s in our hearts and we know he’s safe.” He cleared his throat. “And we’re thankful for the third generation of Bell men, Glenn and Calvin. A man couldn’t ask for better grandchildren.”

  “And a woman couldn’t ask for better grandsons, either, Daddy,” Dillon’s mother interjected.

  The older man then turned to Monique. “And we’re thankful to you, Monique. We’re thankful for the care you’ve taken of our grandson all those years without us, and we’re thankful you chose to share him and his love with us. You’ll never know how much that means to us.”

  Dillon watched Monique’s eyes fill with tears. He wanted, as he often did, to pull her into his arms. But, of course, he didn’t.

  “And we’re thankful for you, Monique,” Mr. Bell continued. “You’re a good woman, a wonderful mother and just a plain joy to have around. We’re glad you’re a part of the family, and if we haven’t said it before, we say it now. Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

  Monique opened her mouth to speak, but tears clogged her throat and choked her words.

  “Don’t cry, Moni,” Calvin said. “We love you.”

  Monique’s tears flowed freely at Calvin’s words, but she managed to speak. “I know, sweetheart,” she said to Calvin. Then she turned first to Mrs. Bell, then to Mr. Bell. “Thank you both for accepting Glenn and me. Each of you has taken a special spot in our hearts.” She wiped her tears with her napkin, then nodded to her son. “Isn’t that right, Glenn?”

  The nine-year-old nodded. “I’m thankful that I have a grandma, a grandpa, three uncles, an aunt, a little brother, a mom and—” he ducked his head “—a daddy.”

  Dillon’s throat closed up. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t find the words. He reached over Calvin and rubbed Glenn on his head. “And I’m thankful that this year I have two sons,” he said with feeling. “This has got to be the best Thanksgiving of my life.”

  Dillon followed Monique’s example and took a napkin to his eyes.

  “How come everybody is crying?” Calvin asked, sounding truly bewildered.

  Dillon’s gaze traveled around the table and he saw that Calvin was right. Everybody was in tears or very close to them.

  Donald leaned across the table and said to Calvin in a loud whisper, “I think they’re crying because Daddy won’t slice the turkey.”

  Everyone at the table laughed at that ridiculous statement, and the laughter lightened the mood. The solemn part of the day was over and now they could just enjoy each other. Dillon looked across the table to get Monique’s attention, but this time she was talking to Donald. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think she was avoiding looking at him. But that didn’t make any sense.

  Well, he said to himself, he and Monique would have their time tonight after the boys were in bed. He couldn’t wait.

  Monique waited by the front door while Dillon stowed Glenn’s camping equipment in the closet. The boys were staying with him tonight since they were camping out tomorrow nig
ht and Saturday night.

  When he finished, he turned and smiled at her. Any other time, the smile would have had her melting in his arms. But tonight was different. He moved to take her in his arms as he usually did once the boys were in bed, but she stepped away from him.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She looked into his eyes, looking for the love that she was so sure she’d seen there. The love that she’d been waiting for him to confess any day now. “No, nothing’s wrong,” she lied. Everything was wrong. “I’m just tired and I want to go home and get in bed.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked, sounding truly concerned. “I could get you some aspirin or something.”

  She shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine. I just need to get home.”

  He took another step toward her and again she moved back. “Look, Monique, if you’re that tired, you don’t need to drive home. You can stay here.”

  She gave him a look that said he was crazy.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in my bed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  If only it were that simple, she thought. “No, Dillon. I told you, I’m fine. I’ll just drive home and get in bed.” She turned and opened the door. “See you tomorrow,” she said, then walked through the door and to her car.

  She felt her mask slipping even as she walked to the car. She just prayed she’d reach the vehicle without making a fool of herself. How could she have been so stupid? She should have known that the Fates would only allow her a measured amount of happiness. What was she doing anyway, thinking she could have it all?

  She made it to her car on wobbly legs and with a broken heart As she slid in, she glanced back and gave Dillon a fake smile. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. She managed to get her key in the ignition and the car in gear. She didn’t look at Dillon as she backed out of his drive and onto the street.

  Once she turned off his street, her tears began to fall. “I’m not in love with Monique,” he’d told his brother. The words sounded loud and garish in her ears, and she knew she’d hear them until the day she died. Dillon didn’t love her, and by the tone of voice he’d used he didn’t want to love her.