by S. E. Law
There’s a chorus of agreement and I smile as Rico says, “I’ll get everybody started on packing.”
Just like that, all of the kids rush from the room, but Rebecca runs back and throws her arms around Regina again. “I’ll write you an email every day!” She turns to me and says, “You’ll help me, right Daddy?”
“Of course I will, princess.” My daughter smiles and then darts out of the dining room, leaving Regina and I alone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“You need a vacation, sweetheart. Hell, we all need a vacation after that.” Then, I sigh. “Maybe I didn’t phrase that right. I want you to come along, but not in the way you think. I want to leave the kids with my parents and spend two weeks in a hotel room with you. We won’t even need to go outside because I’ll keep you busy underneath me.”
She blushes at my words, and her eyes sparkle. I love that we’ve had sex every night over the past few weeks, but talking about it still makes her shy. She’s wanton in our bedroom, but occasionally my filthy mouth still shocks her. I cover her small hand with my own.
“No, I’m serious, sweetheart. You really do deserve a vacation, and if you’re at my parents’ with us, you won’t get a chance to rest. Take this opportunity to get some spa treatments and treat yourself, baby. I’ll give you some walkabout money.”
Her cheeks blush.
“Oh Ryan, that’s not necessary.”
I shake my head and squeeze her hand.
“Yes, it is. I want you lovely, lush, and well-rested after we get back from my parents’ place. The better to have my way with you,” I add with a louche grin. She giggles, and then speaks.
“Well, I did promise my mom I would see her after we were finally allowed to leave. I suppose I could go spend a day or two with her.”
I smile.
“Go, sweetheart. Say hello to your mom. She’s probably worried sick about you ever since hearing about the fire.”
Regina nods.
“She knows we’re okay, but she’ll be happy to see me in person.”
I nod and squeeze her hand again.
“Don’t worry about a thing with us. Ursula will be back tomorrow, so she’ll take care of the house, and my parents will help with the kids. Go.”
Regina nods. “I get it. You’re trying to get rid of me.”
I pull her in for a deep kiss, leaving her breathless at the breakfast table. Her mouth tastes of sweet syrup, and I don’t even care anymore if my kids see.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” I breathe into her mouth. “Nothing would make me happier than keeping you at my side, Regina. But go so that your family doesn’t think that I’m a tyrant for manipulating all your time. I want to meet them someday, and it’s better to create a good first impression now.”
She gasps, her cheeks blushing.
“You want to meet them?”
I nod.
“Someday. Why not?”
She bites her lip.
“Well, I just didn’t think …”
I smile wryly at her.
“Didn’t think we had potential for the long-term? I don’t think so, Regina. You’re part of my life now. A very enjoyable, lush part, whom I want well-rested when we come back. So go.”
Regina laughs again, but this time I can see hope in her chocolate eyes. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s so lovely and happy that suddenly, I know that this is what I want. I want to devote my life to making her happy, and I lean over to give her one last kiss.
“Go pack,” I say. “We’ll be back in no time.”
This time, she kisses me back before pulling away.
“Don’t get up to any trouble while you’re away,” she says lightly before standing from the breakfast table.
I swat her round ass once more as she prances away.
“Oh, I won’t.”
Of course, our antics don’t stop there. Despite my best intentions, I end up following Regina upstairs, and we end up making love. This time, it’s passionate yet quiet, knowing that everyone in the house is awake. Thirty minutes later, she steps out of the shower and I watch the water glistening on her beautiful body as she wraps herself in a robe and disappears from view.
I linger a bit in the shower myself. Regina’s not the only one who’s had a constant stream of workouts, and I let the hot water pound my muscles. Shit. Is she my girlfriend? It certainly feels like it, seeing that we’re spending every night together. We’re even in the master suite together right now, despite my children being awake.
Sauntering from the bathroom, I head over to the closet to start getting dressed. I’m perfectly happy and irrationally content. In fact, I’m even whistling, and it feels good.
Once I’m dressed I start for the kids but then, I hear Regina’s voice coming from the other walk-in closet, and I turn around with a smile. She must not know that I’ve come out of the shower because she’s on the phone, talking with someone in a hushed voice. Her voice is muffled, but I can make out some of the words.
“I love him, Denise,” I hear her say. “I have never been happier in my life before.”
Oh shit, she loves me? That is, if she’s talking about me. But my heart swells with happiness because frankly, I love her too. I’ve been insanely content with Regina under my roof, and I’d love to keep her here longer. There’s a brief pause while the person on the other end of the line speaks, and then Regina speaks again.
“These last four weeks have been life changing, and I actually feel attractive for the first time in my life.” That makes no sense at all. How could she not feel attractive? I certainly worship her curves each night until we’re both panting and gasping.
The next few minutes are maddening because all I hear are short phrases with no context.
“Uh huh.”
“Yes.”
“You might be right.”
“Absolutely.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You take care too. Bye now, girlfriend.”
Suddenly, the pitter patter of small feet sounds in the hall, and I know I need to take care of business. I step out into the hall calmly, closing the door to the master suite behind me.
“Geronimo!” Rebecca squeals. The kids tumble down the stairs, and I follow them nonchalantly to the kitchen. My heart’s still racing. She loves me? But my kids need my attention now.
“I’m pretty sure medieval knights never knew any Apaches,” I say with a smile.
“Huh?” asks Ronnie, his blue eyes quirking up at mine.
I laugh at my son. “Geronimo. He was an Apache chief, and a great warrior.”
“Did the Patchetties fly?” asks Rachel innocently.
“Apache,” I say. “Uh-Patch-EE.”
She nods at me again.
“Did they fly?”
“What in the world are you asking that for?”
She shakes her head, and Ronnie steps in.
“Well, why else do people shout ‘Geronimo’ when they jump?”
I nod.
“Good question. Paratroopers would shout ‘Geronimo’ for luck when they jumped, and I’m not sure there’s any good reason for it. It’s just tradition. It’s a very smart question, though. If I see any Apache chiefs around, I’ll make sure to ask them.”
Ronnie doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with that answer, but he doesn’t press any further because Rico has just arrived. “All set, Dad,” my oldest son sighs. “We’re all packed.”
At that moment, Regina strides in, freshly showered. Her wet hair is combed back, and she looks absolutely innocent with those big brown eyes and demure sweater set. If my kids only knew what we’d been doing twenty minutes earlier …
But they have no idea, and Rico brightens when he sees his nanny. “I packed a couple toys for the twins,” he says in an off-hand manner. “Threw them in the bag.”
Regina smiles at him. “Great thinking, Rico. I can see why your father trusts you t
o help him with the younger kids. You’re reliable.”
By the look on Rico’s face, anyone would think someone had just given him a puppy. He’s staring at Regina with nothing short of worship. Then again, so am I. Every second watching her with the kids only makes me love her more.
Just then, the twins decide to do an impromptu performance of a scene from Shrek.
“Presenting Princess Fiona, er Rebecca!” Rufus announces, before Rachel barrels into him and knocks both of them sprawling. The princess in question extends a regal hand.
“Rise, my loyal subjects!”
The kids hop up and salute her crisply enough to make any drill sergeant proud. Ronnie doffs his pirate hat, and Rico continues to smile knowingly from his corner. He glances at Regina occasionally to make sure she sees how mature he is for having outgrown this kind of childish behavior. I love how he adores her.
“All right!” my lovely nanny announces, clapping her hands. “It’s time to mount your chariot for the long voyage ahead! Princess Rebecca!” Rebecca snaps to attention, her curls bouncing. She looks so damned cute that I nearly ruin the moment by laughing. “Lead the way, fair lass! Sir Ronald?”
“My lady?” Ronnie says.
“You take the rear. Guard your charges with your life!”
“On my honor, your Majesty, no harm shall come to them so long as I live!” He raises his arm high into the air and I realize he’s carrying the same toy sword he had when Regina first arrived. The kids march to the car, with Regina close behind. It’s been less than a month since she arrived, and already I can’t remember what life was like without her.
Without Regina.
Damn it. It hits me I’ll be spending the next two weeks without her. I’ll be managing these brats on my own, without a stolen kiss here, or a sly pinch there to ease the chaos. I won’t have her moaning in my bed at night as I worship those curves, making her come again and again in my arms.
I won’t get to kiss her again for two weeks. I can’t even kiss her now as the kids scramble into the car.
Reluctantly, I open the driver’s side door and meet her eyes over the hood of the vehicle. The air sparks, and the connection is electric. I want to speak, but I can’t find the words to say. Finally, she smiles and breaks the connection.
“Have fun with the kids, Ryan,” she says softly. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
I nod formally.
“Goodbye Regina.”
She breaks into another gorgeous smile, making my heart leap, and waves. With that, I get into the car and begin driving down the winding road leading away our house. The kids have already begun to squabble in back of me, and suddenly, two weeks at my mom’s seems like a prison sentence rather than a vacation. Without Regina, how will I survive?
10
Regina
I remember giggling and waving as the SUV disappeared down the road. I remember waving and smiling, even while dying a bit inside.
They’re gone.
Gone. I won’t see Ryan for two weeks now, and even though I know the absence is only temporary, my heart crumples a bit. I’m so used to his big hands on my curves, and that hot warmth at my back while I sleep. How will I survive without him?
Already a bit depressed, I drag myself back into the house and head straight for the freezer. I pile ice cream into a bowl the size of a small bucket, and then pour myself a gallon of wine to go with it.
Okay, I get that my reaction is over the top. But still, my heart feels wrung out, and I sit listlessly at the kitchen counter while fingering my spoon. A few things swirl through my mind.
First, cabernet sauvignon does not pair well with mango ice cream.
Second, I love him. I’m not infatuated with him. I don’t have a crush on him. I’m not growing to love him. I’m not falling in love. I’m there already.
Third, does Ryan love me back?
My heart shudders with the question. Could it be possible? There have been a lot of long looks and meaningful gazes. We’ve made love slowly and sensually several times, and I swear he looks at me with adoration while rocking between my hips. But it’s hard to tell. He certainly hasn’t said the words, although I feel like he’s trying to tell me without saying it outright.
I glance at the empty wine glass and empty ice cream bowl. I tell myself I survived for twenty-five years before I met Ryan; I can survive a couple weeks without him. I can survive even if he doesn’t love me.
But can I still handle this job?
The question makes me feel no better and my shoulders slump. I should get up, clean my mess, and go to my room to pack. In a moment of weakness, I consider just staying the whole time at the mansion but in the end, I decide to leave. It’s too pathetic to rattle around here by myself for two weeks. It’s better to go somewhere else, and I did promise to pay a visit to my mom.
Forty-five minutes later I’m back at my parents’ home and opening the window to my bedroom to let out the stale air. My mother kept the room exactly as I left it, with my doll collection still on the shelves and the pink comforter with white ruffled edges.
I can’t believe I miss Ryan so much.
I miss the sex. I definitely miss that. It’s only been hours since we last made love, and I already miss that. I miss the way he holds me. I miss falling asleep on his chest and waking up in his arms. I miss his smile. I miss talking to him and laughing with him. I miss doing and saying nothing at all, but just being with him, knowing that he’s there with me.
I miss him the rest of that hour.
I miss him for the next hour, too.
I miss him while trying my best not to be distracted while Mom feeds me lunch and chatters on about neighborhood gossip.
“Are you okay, honey?” Margaret pauses with concern on her kindly face. “You look out of it. Are you sick?”
I snap back to the present, and smile.
“No, not at all. Well, maybe a tiny bit. I had ice cream for breakfast after the kids left this morning.”
My mom giggles.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s so terrible! You know all that sugar isn’t good for you. It’s okay though. You’re on vacation and deserve to cheat a little. A serving of ice cream won’t hurt you.”
I smile and nod, even as my stomach does a small flip. I wasn’t making that up actually. The ice cream is doing a turn in my stomach, and I quickly excuse myself to use the bathroom.
But hanging out with my parents doesn’t take my mind off Ryan. I miss him all afternoon and I miss him at dinner. I sleep that night, dreaming that his big bronzed body is in bed with me, and his lips on my own.
I wake up in the morning to a chirp on my phone, and reach lazily for the handset. There’s a text from Ryan, and my heart pumps.
Good morning, beautiful. Enjoy yourself, and the two weeks will be over soon enough.
He’s read my mind, and I text a heart emoji back. Oh god, hopefully that wasn’t too sappy. Unfortunately, the message has already been sent, so I can’t take it back.
Then, the phone rings again, and I see that it’s my friend Denise. I fall back onto the bed and yawn loudly.
“Hey girl!” I put on my best impression of a cheery voice. “What’s up?”
Denise immediately begins chattering away.
“First, let me apologize deeply for not being the living demigod who’s been ruining you for all other men the past three weeks. I know you actually want to talk to him, and not me.”
“God Denise, it’s fine,” I laugh. “You’ll do.” One sentence and she’s cheered me up.
“Well, I may not be your bazillionaire boyfriend,” she says. “So I can only get a… what do they call it when people smoke pot around you and it affects you?”
“Contact high?”
“How do you know that? What are you doing that I don’t know about?”
I laugh and say, “You caught me. I’ve been smoking marijuana in great and copious amounts. Not. You know I never smoke.”
Denise tsks-tsks a bit.
>
“You should sometimes because it’s soooo good. But anyways, since I don’t have a megazillionaire boyfriend, I can only experience it through a contact high. I’m living vicariously through you, girlfriend!” she squeals.
I laugh too.
“Well, I’m not sure if I’d call him my boyfriend just yet, but we can talk about that later. What’s up? Are we having lunch?”
“No sirree,” Denise says. “Dinner. Your treat.”
“Why is it my treat?” I laugh again.
“Hello?!?! Gazillionaire boyfriend! Didn’t we just talk about that? Doesn’t he give you a stipend of some sort especially for times like this? You know, lazy lunches with your girlfriends, sexy lingerie, high heels that make him …”
I cut her off.
“He pays my salary, and yes, he did give me a stipend for vacation, but he didn’t say what I should use it on.”
She squeals.
“Oh my god, it’s just like in the movies! You’re getting money to sleep with him! How many orgasms have you had in the last week?”
“Stop Denise,” I say, still laughing. “Please.”
“Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Stop acting like some kind of virgin,” she mock-scolds. “By the way, where are you taking me tonight?”
“How about Jacinto’s?” I ask. “They have the best frozen margaritas.”
I can practically see her head bobbing up and down with eagerness.
“Absolutely girlfriend. You know I love that frozen chocolate margarita with the whipped cream on top.”
To be honest, that sounds disgusting to me, but I just giggle.
“I love you, Denise,” I say.
“I love you too,” she sing-songs, “but you’re still buying me dinner!”
We hang up after a few minutes of conversation about my parents, her family, whether she should adopt a dog, or if I think a cat would be a better choice. I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a meal with Denise more than I do now. I wrack my brain trying to decide where to start because I want to tell her all about Ryan. She knows that I love him already, because I’ve kept her up to date on my life when I can. But this is a time for us to share details. I even want to tell her how he moves above me, how his lips feel against my neck while his hands explore me, how he does something with his fingertip where it presses against …