I take an Uber home.
The moment I’ve been dreading is upon me. I insert the key into the front door lock, and the moment I step into my house, I feel the difference. It’s deathly quiet, and it feels lonely. I know that last part is probably my mind playing games with my head.
I spend the next hour or so cleaning up. All through the morning, I’m thinking of what Cora and Taylor are doing. I know her schedule perfectly. All I have to do is glance at the time, and I’ll know if she’s feeding, sleeping, or staring into space and just looking adorable.
***
“I can’t believe that she kicked you out again, but I have to say, you deserve it every time.” Martin wipes tears from the sides of his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” I tell him miserably.
It’s been the longest week of my life. I’ve gone to Cora’s to see Taylor, and I’ve made sure to abide by Cora’s wishes and go when she’s at work. It’s Friday evening, and I asked Fran to invite me to their place for dinner.
I can’t stand my own company anymore. She’s taken Willow to bed, and Martin and I are relaxing with a beer each on the porch, enjoying the warm weather.
“You miss Cora.” It’s a statement rather than a question.
“I do, more than I thought possible,” I admit. I thought that by now, I’d have fallen into a routine of my own. And I suppose I have, but it doesn’t bring me satisfaction or joy. Neither does my work. Everything that I enjoyed doing has lost its sparkle.
“You’re the most stubborn man I know,” Martin says. “Why not just admit that you fell in love with her and move on from there? Marry the woman and become a family.”
Fear wraps itself tightly around my heart, but it doesn’t last for long. I tentatively give thought to Martin’s question. What am I really afraid of?
Is it to lose Cora? No, it’s not that. I know that the chances of something like that happening again are akin to lightning striking the same place twice. Then it dawns on me what I’m afraid of.
I’m afraid of losing Cora to another man. I’m afraid that when work consumes me, as it inevitably does sometimes, she’ll turn elsewhere to find love and attention.
The moment that thought forms in my mind, I see the ridiculousness of it. Cora is not Tessa. Her values are different, and in any case, I’ve learned from my mistakes. There’s no way I could neglect Cora and Taylor when they are the two people who bring me the most joy.
The memories come then of Cora staring at Taylor, her eyes brimming with tears of love and then shifting the same gaze to me. Of Cora laughing and clutching her stomach. Of Cora asleep looking so peaceful and happy.
I want all of that again. I want a full, busy life again. I want to go home to my girls every night. I want Taylor to keep me up at all hours of the night while I pace and try to soothe her back to sleep.
I want her mother in my arms—until death do us part.
The front door opens softly, and Fran steps out. “She’s out like a light.” She goes to Martin and kisses him, and then sinks into a rocking chair. “I hope you managed to talk some sense into him.”
“I tried,” Martin says. “But you know how he is.”
I frown with irritation. “Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here?”
Fran grins at me, and I realize that it was a deliberate move to get me into the conversation.
“I know you love her, bro. I don’t understand why you won’t do the right thing by her and by Taylor.”
“What if she says no?” I tremble inside with fear. This is a real possibility. I’m afraid that my window of opportunity has shut down. With Cora, nothing is a guarantee, and to be honest, I’ve kept her dangling for a long time. What if she has found someone else? The thought fills my mouth with bile and bitterness.
“She’s not going to say no,” Fran says. “She loves you, and she wants to be a family.”
Hope soars in my chest. “She told you that?”
“No, but I know how women think.”
My hope comes crashing back down.
Chapter 40
Cora
The buzzer goes off, and I take Taylor with me to let Rebecca in. She’s the nanny from the agency, and she’s a godsend. She’s wonderful with Taylor, and she’s made my transition back to work so seamlessly.
She comes bounding in as usual full of energy even though it’s not even nine yet. “Good morning, my precious,” she says to Taylor and kisses her. “Morning, Cora.”
“Morning.” I force cheer into my voice.
It’s been like this every single day. Everything is a chore these days. Having been here before, I know what the trouble is. And it starts with a capital T. On bad days like today, I have to constantly remind myself that this misery will end.
I just don’t know when, but it will.
I hate the emotions that come over me unexpectedly. Sometimes I’m angry, then sadness sweeps over me, and other times I’m numb. I miss him so much. I miss hearing his voice and the sound of his laughter.
I miss seeing him being a great dad to Taylor. I feel sad when I imagine her growing up without her daddy. I know for sure that one day, he’ll learn to love again, and when he does, another woman will be waiting to snap him up.
However angry I am with Thomas, the fact remains that he’s an awesome human being. The woman he’ll love will be very lucky indeed. Then of course, they’ll go on and have a family of their own, and my Taylor will be relegated to second place.
These are the thoughts that keep me awake at night. The future terrifies me. I try and tell myself that I’ll meet a wonderful man who’ll want me for keeps. But in the middle of the night, when it’s quiet, and I’m alone with my thoughts, it seems highly unlikely.
After cleaning up, Rebecca comes and takes Taylor from me. I’m ready for work, and I kiss Taylor and leave for the gym downstairs.
“Morning,” I say to Samantha at the reception. I pause to stare at her. “Something is different about you.”
“Morning,” she calls out cheerfully. “Want a clue?”
“No, I’ve got it. Why did you change your hair? You looked gorgeous with white hair.”
She sighs. “I loved it too, but it turns guys off.”
Do women’s lives revolve around guys? I can’t believe she’s changed her favorite hairstyle to attract guys. I keep my thoughts to myself and wish her a good day instead.
As is my custom, I take a walk around the gym. I take more time in the physiotherapy rooms and speak to Mercy, who is the physiotherapist in charge. I’m glad we went ahead with expanding our services. We have two full-time physiotherapists, and we are booked solid for two months. I pause and watch what used to be my early morning aerobics class for seniors.
I move on to the weight room. It’s almost full, and as I turn away to leave, I spot a familiar figure in the adjoining treadmill room. I move closer. My eyes are not deceiving me. It’s Thomas.
My mouth goes dry, and I enter the room and go and stand in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” It’s rude, but it’s difficult to be polite to the man who rejected you.
“I came to speak to you,” he says as beads of sweat form on his forehead.
God, he’s hot. Even on a treadmill with sweat pouring down his face.
“About us.”
I stare at him incredulously. “There is no us, and the answer is a big, resounding no.”
I whirl around and walk out, fuming with anger. Who the fuck does Thomas think he is? Does he think that I’ve been moping over him all this time and hoping he would come back to us and admit he made a mistake?
Okay yeah, I have, but Thomas would never say that he made a mistake. The reason that he’s here is that he’s horny, and as he always used to say, I’m the best lover he’s ever had.
Well, too bad for him. I don’t care if he’s the best lover I’ve ever had. Life is more than good sex. Okay, extraordinary sex. Love and commit
ment come first.
Rebecca has told me each time he has come to my place to see Taylor that he hasn’t stayed less than two hours. He’s given Taylor her bath three times and taken her for a walk in the park twice.
When Rebecca gives me these updates, she looks at me like I’m crazy. If we knew each other better, I’m sure she would ask me what I am doing not being with Thomas.
Thomas is a wonderful dad but a lousy partner.
I banish him from my thoughts and go to my office. I log on to our social media and go through reactions from yesterday’s posts. I comment on some and like others.
Thomas keeps intruding into my thoughts, and I keep pushing him away. I’m sure that he’s left now, I think, an hour later. I put my computer on rest mode and head downstairs.
I stop and stare in disbelief. The idiot is still on the treadmill. I wouldn’t be worried if he had been doing it, but I doubt that Thomas has been in a gym for months.
I march up to him. “What are you doing?”
If sweat was dripping down his face, now it’s flowing. He looks exhausted, and I’m surprised one of the trainers hasn’t talked to him. They probably did, but knowing Thomas, he probably convinced them he was okay.
“I promised myself I won’t get off this treadmill until you hear me out.” He can barely talk.
It’s tempting to walk away and leave him to it, but I can’t. I’m worried sick as it is. Plus, I’m more than a bit curious about what he wants to talk about. Surely no one can go to this much trouble just to get laid.
“Get talking.”
He staggers off of the treadmill and leans on the wall for support.
“You’re an idiot and a doctor who should know better about pushing yourself beyond your endurance.”
He takes a few seconds to catch his breath. Then he wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt.
“Cora Scott, I’ve wasted so much time, and I don’t want to waste anymore. I want to be more than Taylor’s dad. I want to be her mom’s everything. I want to be the man who gets to hold you every night. I love you, Cora.”
All air leaves my lungs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny box. He opens it to reveal a gorgeous ring. “Will you marry me, Cora? Will you give me one final chance to show you that I can be the man that you deserve?”
Tears fill my eyes. I should resist him and protect my heart, but I don’t want to. I’ve hoped to hear those words from Thomas for four years.
“You’re a fool, Thomas, and so am I for loving you. Yes. I say yes.”
Shock and joy crash my heart. As his big strong arms wrap around me, I feel as if I’m going to burst with happiness. He strokes my hair and back as if he can’t get enough of me.
“I love you, Cora,” he says over and over again.
The End.
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Chapter 1
Lexi
“Eye Candy alert!” Jen my workmate, says, leaning on the bar counter.
I look up and my heart nearly stops beating. You can tell a lot by how a man walks and the man approaching the bar counter has an unhurried sexy swagger. He reaches the counter and stares with liquid brown eyes at the displayed bottles behind me.
Jen grabs the beer bottle from my hand. “Don’t let him get away,” she mutters and leaves.
I’m too mesmerized by the stranger to respond. He’s dressed in a blue button-down shirt that molds the fullness of his chest and his wide shoulders. My breathing goes shallow and my legs turn to jelly. I can’t remember the last time a man had such an effect on me. And that’s saying a lot because I work at The Alma Cocktail Bar and I get to interact with attractive men every night.
I realize that my mouth is open, and I quickly snap it shut. I grab a cloth and wipe the counter in front of him. It’s already clean but I need something to do. My gaze falls on his full lips and I imagine nibbling on them. He looks like a good kisser. You cannot have such lips and be a horrible kisser. I rouse myself from my fantasies and smile at him. “Hi, welcome to The Alma. What can I get you?” I say.
He stares at me as if he knows me from somewhere but cannot place me. Not likely. This was a man you never forgot. He exudes raw sexy magnetism before uttering a single word.
“A bourbon on the rocks,” he says. His voice is velvety, like a caress. A voice that can make you come just by whispering dirty words in your ear.
I turn away to mix his drink and pray that he doesn’t notice that my breath is hitched. My hands tremble. What the hell is wrong with me? This man is a customer. There’s an unwritten rule here at work that servers should not date customers. A rule that my colleagues flout all the time.
Okay. I desperately wrack my brain for another reason to stop romanticizing about the sexy stranger. I bring the image of my ex to the forefront of my mind. Calling Eric my ex is stretching the truth a little. We were together for a total of fourteen days. Most of which was spent between the sheets. Then he disappeared. He stopped taking my calls and answering my messages. A hit and run. It wasn’t the first time it happened. My sister says that I give my heart away too quickly.
She’s right. When I meet a man I’m attracted to, in a matter of days, I’m already planning the wedding. What can I say, I’m optimistic like that. Scratch that. Used to be. I’ve changed. I’m not going to let myself get hurt again. No more planning weddings on the second date.
Not that I’ve stopped believing. I’ll just take my time searching for my prince. I know he’s out there. The idea of finding a good person is what has kept me going. I long for a family of my own. A chance to do things the right way. Coming from a dysfunctional home, I admire families that seem to have it together. I want that for myself. I need to belong somewhere. But salivating after a stranger is not the right way to go about it. Not to mention that bars are not the right place to meet a serious boyfriend.
I turn to the stranger and when I place his drink on a coaster in front of him he smiles, and all the warnings disappear from my mind.
“Thank you,” he says and glances around the bar.
I know that look. I see it in almost all the male customers who come in and a few women too. He’s on the hunt. He’s here to look for a woman. I step away from him and wipe down the sparkling clean counter.
I’m relieved when I spot two customers headed to the bar. One of them is Jeremy, a regular.
“Hi Lexi,” he says and like a real gentleman, he pulls a stool out for his date and helps her sit down.
“Hi,” I say and smile. With Jeremy, I keep conversation to the bare minimum.
“What will you have to drink?” he asks his date, a sweet smile on his face.
She’s charmed. I can tell by the way she looks at him with adoring eyes. I push back visions of the other girl Jeremy came in with two days ago. He changes his women like he changes boxer briefs and is sweet and charming to all of them.
I reserve judgment and take their drinks order. Bartending has taught me not to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. Soon after, a woman walks in alone. She’s an attractive redhead and she takes the stool next to the sexy stranger. He’s probably found his prey.
She orders a glass of red wine. I pour it for her and when I turn back, she and the stranger are talking. My chest squeezes painfully. Don’t be silly, I scold myself. I’m here to work and the customers are here to relax and socialize.
Still, I keep one eye on the two as I serve other customers. To my relief, the sexy stranger turns away, seemingly losing interest. A smile tugs at my lips. I find myself going to him.
“Anot
her one of those?” I ask.
He turns to me. My body melts under his heated gaze. His stare drops to my mouth, leaving me in no doubt what is on his mind. My lips suddenly feel dry and I lick them.
“Only if you’ll join me,” he says.
I glance at my watch. “In three hours.”
“I’ll wait,” he says.
He’s flirting. It’s what men naturally do. My mind knows it, but my body doesn’t get that memo. A warm liquid ache rises from the depths of my body. It’s been too long since I’ve had sex. That’s why my mind is in the gutter.
“Meantime, I’ll have a bottle of water please,” he says.
“If we’re going to have a drink, we should exchange names,” I tell him.
“That’s probably a good idea,” he says. “Name’s Ace.”
The name suits him. “I’m Lexi,” I say and strike out my hand across the counter.
Instead of shaking my hand, he envelops my hand in both of his, and arousal sparks through me awakening the kind of longings that get me in trouble. He lets go but seconds later, my hand is still buzzing from his touch.
If a simple touch like that can heat my body, what if he…? This man is dangerous. I should keep away from him. If I know what’s good for me.
I swallow hard and try to talk myself out of having a drink with the stranger. I lie to myself it means nothing. After all, I always have a drink after work. I usually sit down at one of the corner tables and sip it slowly and unwind before leaving for home.
What does it matter if he joins me? After my drink, we’ll say goodbye and part ways. I’m a responsible adult and I can rein in my lust. I can enjoy his company without sleeping with him. But I can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he is.
A considerate one I’ll bet. A man who pleasures a woman first before seeking his pleasure. I almost laugh out loud at that. Most men are the opposite of that and fantasizing that Ace is one of those few is lying to myself. Giving myself an excuse to have sex with a stranger.
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