by Mj Fields
I look down at my hands and he takes them. “When you busted into my room in this house, over and over again, even when I warned you not to, you didn’t give a damn you were stronger than the man who lost his shit over seeing a ghost with haunting green eyes. The man who knew he couldn’t take what you offered over and over again.”
Dying now of embarrassment, I close my eyes. “Oh my God.”
He snickers, “Not like that. Your heart. Your love. I thought I was broken again, and I will not allow myself to come at a woman who deserves a whole man, not part of a man with anything less. And something was missing inside, something to do with Grace that I couldn’t shake.”
“Olivia,” I say softly and smile.
“Olivia.” He says her name like it’s everything. And seeing him now, it seems it is. “Can you forgive me for all the shit that’s happened over the past couple years?”
“What shit?” Bass ask, but I don’t answer.
“When you saw her, when you hugged her, when I sat and watched your reunion on a screen like a movie, where was I, Oliver? Where was I between then and now?”
His eyes search mine desperately, his hands grip mine tighter and he leans in and declares, “Where you’ve been since this started? Everywhere. I was becoming whole so that when I came back here, and told you I love you, you knew it was for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t stop.”
My body shakes as I silently sob, I close my eyes. “Love isn’t always enough, Oliver.”
The depth of his voice intensifies. “When you’ve gone a lifetime without it, it’s everything.”
Mom interrupts, “I think she needs a moment.”
He replies immediately, “No.”
“Oliver.” Bass stands now.
“Natasha, open your eyes and look at me. Look. At. Me.”
I open my eyes.
“I dream in color now, in a kaleidoscope of colors. I imagine our future, mine and yours. I understand you and I, we’ve been trained to be weary, but you know and I know, this thing isn’t going away. In fact, it’s only growing stronger, not even between when I saw her, and you watched. In those moments, I was trying to figure out how the hell I was going to prove to you, that you and I, we’re going to stop, ever.”
He leans in and pushes his forehead to mine. “I will piss you off at times, we will butt heads about things, but there will never be a day that I won’t look at you and think of that moment everything changed in our worlds. That moment when you realized you were in love with me and I allowed myself to admit, I am so, so very, crazy stupid, in love with you.”
He reaches in his pocket, and he pulls out the Eiffel Tower keychain. “We have reservations for dinner at 58 Eiffel Tower. A date, Natasha, a real date. Come with me.”
38
Oliver
Just over three months ago, I left her sleeping knowing this day would come, but needing to find out what it was, with everything I never thought I deserved staring at me for two years, I was still missing.
I left a blonde-haired, aspen eyed, freshly inked spitfire and I’ve returned to a stunning, sophisticated, and sexy brunette who owns my fucking heart and when her head wraps around all that I just laid on her, she’ll remember I am the protector of hers.
I stand and wait for her at the door. Thor’s hammer beating the hell out of my chest from the inside out. As I watch Angela whisper to Natasha, Bass walks up to me.
“First, my wife looks like a goddess, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m not going to get laid tonight. Second, that’s my stepdaughter you’re going to be… Jesus Christ, Ollie, really?”
I shrug. “Was out of my control.”
“And, man,” he hugs me, “Congrats on the kid, she’s a lucky little girl. And while you’re nailing my stepdaughter tonight and I’m consoling my wife, who just finished breastfeeding, mind you, think about your daughter when she’s Natasha’s age and take it easy.”
“Not even on my agenda. But when it happens, it’s gonna last approximately two seconds at best. Probably not even that long.”
He laughs.
“Not funny, man, I haven’t had sex since I came home last time, so cry me a river.”
“Are you serious?” he gasps.
“I saw her and no one else mattered.”
“Angela,” Bass calls for her and she looks back. “We’re going to be late.”
When Angela and Bass leave the room, Natasha stands and straightens her dress. When she turns around, she looks scared. As she walks toward me, she doesn’t even look at me. When she starts to walk past me, I pull her to me.
I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Whatever your worries are, give them to me, they are mine to rid you of.”
“We’ll be late,” she whispers and pulls away from me.
I take her hand and when she links her fingers through mine, I lift them to kiss her hand.
The entire car ride, she sits close, but I know there is a distance between us. I don’t doubt she could have handled all that was going on with me, but I could not burden her with any of it when I clearly had no idea what was going on. Until now.
I watch Angela look between her and I and when our eyes meet, hers narrow slightly. She’s not going to be an easy sell, but the product in which I’m peddling is what I know all parents would buy for their kid if they could, true love.
Sitting in the restaurant, I watch Natasha looking out the wall of windows at the spectacular view of Paris at night.
“The city of lights,” she says quietly and looks at me.
“I hardly noticed them.”
She rolls her eyes. “Corny.”
I smile. “I warn you, it’s probably going to get worse.”
She presses her lips together in a smirk as her cheeks pinken.
I lean in. “You look stunning. Your design?”
“My Mom, actually.”
“Reason two that tonight’s not the night.”
“What?” She laughs knowing full well what I’m referring to.
“Your mother isn’t fond of me right now. I promise you, I will win her over, but can you imagine how she’d feel if I destroyed that dress?”
She laughs out loud and I swear everyone must be looking at her, how could they not?
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Little Warrior.”
She surprises me by throwing her arms around me and hugging me. “I’m so pissed at you for not telling me why you were there. So mad at you for allowing me to think that she and you were together. But I’m so happy you found out you are a dad.”
“In response to being pissed, I apologize. As to being mad for allowing you to think I could possibly want anyone more than you, I’m not sure how you could’ve thought that, Natasha, you gave me every dream you ever dreamed, every wish you ever wished, every prayer you have ever prayed, did you think I would take them all from you and never return them?”
She hugs me tighter.
When the waiter comes to the table and asks to take our order, Natasha lets go, but she leans against my side, her head resting on my shoulder. Angela stares intently and protectively at her daughter, and when she closes her eyes, and smiles, a tear falls down her face. I look at Natasha and she’s smiling.
“Is she okay?”
“Hmm,” she sighs. “I told her I love you.”
“I should be upset that you didn’t say it to me after I proclaimed my love for you in front of your mother and Bass.”
“But you won’t.” She again sighs contently.
After dinner, we all walk to the same spot that Angela and Bass married. Natasha takes picture after picture of them.
I never understood why people took so many pictures, posted them online. I thought it self-centered, attention seeking, like they were bragging about their lives, but right now, I’m not seeing it that way. I’m seeing two people who love each other, capturing a moment at a place that is special to them.
A picture like that is post worthy. People who think a woman in her forties ha
s no business marrying a man in his twenties will judge, hell, I judged. But now, I see no age, I see love, I see the type of love that is true and real. And I see hope, hope for people who may be in the same situation, but hiding it from the judgmental eyes, and maybe if they see them, they won’t feel they have to.
When she’s done, Natasha looks back at me, aspen eyes shining, a beautiful smile on her stunning face as she smirks and rocks on her heels.
Walking up, I punch in my code, and hand my phone to Bass. Nodding to Natasha, I ask, “Do you mind?”
I reach out my hand and she takes it. I position her in front of me, her back to my chest, and wrap my arms around her.
She looks up at me and wrinkles her nose. I can’t help but kiss it.
Her smile changes and she bites her upper lip, she does that when she’s feeling self-conscious.
“You look beautiful,” I remind her.
She shrugs one shoulder and licks her lips.
“If I kiss you here, your mother’s going to see things no one’s mother should see.”
She laughs as she turns around and hugs me.
“You hug me any tighter and the little knee action at our house a few months ago, that made you quiver, is going to make you quake.”
“Her eyes widen and she swallows hard. “What’s the difference between a quiver and a quake?”
“I’ll show you another time.”
“Soon I hope,” she whispers as her hands slip under my jacket and runs up and down my back.
“Let’s figure out a way to ditch the folks,” I wink.
“The what?” Bass laughs.
“The folks, the ‘rents, the–”
“You better stop while you’re ahead,” Angela says lightheartedly.
Natasha giggles and turns around, never allowing our bodies to lose connection, as she leans against me.
“Am I ahead?” I ask Angela.
“She loves you.”
“I know.” I look up. “I know.”
“She’s in college, here in London, you bought a house in the Hamptons. How is that going to work?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“And you have a daughter.” Angela smiles tightly.
“We’ll figure that out, too.”
“If you hurt her, I will find a way to make you wish you–”
“Mom!” Natasha laugh-yells.
“I’ll cut you a switch.”
“Oliver!” Natasha now scolds me.
“I need a drink,” Bass sighs.
We walk over to the same vendor where I had followed her after I brought a ‘date’ to the wedding because Autumn told me Natasha was bringing one.
As Bass buys water, I remember the last time Natasha and I stood here.
“You remember before your mom’s wedding standing here?”
“I was so mad at you.”
“You were hurt, and I thought buying you a stupid Eiffel Tower keychain would make it better somehow.”
I push my hands in my pockets and pull them out, holding two very important items.
“I don’t care that this isn’t a picture-perfect opportunity, I just care that neither one of us ever feels the same way we did then.”
When I kneel down, she gasps, Angela drops her bottle of water, covers her mouth and Bass laughs.
“Natasha Petrov, will you do me the honor of picking item one,” I hold out my left hand, “If you want to make me grovel awhile before you say yes, or pick the item in my right hand if you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with me.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Felt right,” I wink and hold my right hand out. “Marry me, Natasha.”
Tears immediately fill her eyes as she nods.
I open my hand and she holds out her finger. I push the princess cut emerald surrounded by diamonds onto her little finger, and then slide the Eiffel Tower keyring around it and she giggles.
“It’s beautiful, Natasha.” Angela begins to cry.
I stand and she jumps in my arms. I lean in for a kiss, but she leans back, not allowing it. I laugh and twirl her in a circle as her hands cup both sides of my face.
“Thank you.”
Setting her on her feet, I just don’t feel right not kissing her and hell, the amount of restraint I used over the past couple years proves I can handle it.
I put my hand on the base of her neck and run it up the side, cup her cheek and bend down, placing my lips to hers, gently.
The soft moan she lets out precedes a humming sound. She sounds like a bird and tastes faintly like the mocha pots de crème she had for dessert. I move to her top lip, kissing it, adoring the scar with soft light kisses to show her just how much.
When I feel like letting go, kissing her harder, tasting her deeper, I groan as I regretfully pull my mouth from her and rest my forehead to hers.
“I’m so much more into you now.” She closes her eyes and smiles.
I kiss her cheek and whisper, “What are you imagining, Natasha?”
Her smile broadens, and she blushes.
I whisper softer, “You’re making me hard.”
She pushes on my chest smirking, and then fists my jacket and pulls me against her. She puckers her lips for another kiss and I give it to her.
“Congratulations, Oliver,” Bass says patting my back.
“Natasha.” Angela smiles and Natasha lets go of me and turns to hug her. “I’m so happy for you.”
When she steps away from her and comes to me with her arms out, I lean in because, well, my futures wife’s mother doesn’t need to know that her future son in law can’t wait to get her daughter alone.
As she’s hugging me, she asks, “What are you hiding?”
Fuck.
“Yeah, Oliver, what’s in the left hand?” Natasha laughs.
Thank God. Thank Maisie.
“You really wanna know?” She smiles and nods. “Come and get it.”
I hold out my hand as she stands in front of me cupping hers and I drop the keychain in it.
“Is that a chainsaw?” Bass asks confused.
Natasha doesn’t look up at me as her face turns nearly purple, and she stares down at the keychain with a tiny chainsaw on it.
“Why a chainsaw?” Angela asks firmly.
“If she said no, I was going to use it against her.”
Natasha’s eyes widen, and she looks up, trying to look all innocent.
When I start laughing, she shakes her head before lowering it to shield her face with her hair and then she begins to laugh.
“Natasha’s?”
“Your daughter is–”
“I cut down a tree with a chainsaw,” she blurts out.
“I was gonna change the story a bit.”
“You cut down a tree?” Angela asks confused.
“Oh God.” She palms her face in embarrassment.
“Please take your time, Natasha, but do finish this story.” Angela shakes her head.
“Oliver hurt my feelings, so I went to his house and cut down a tree.”
Bass and Angela are both clearly shocked.
“So yeah, I was mad.” She shrugs.
“Why a tree?” Bass finally laughs.
Knowing she’s clearly hiding the whole story for me, I decide to answer, “The willow tree, the one my old man used to make me cut switches from. The one that left the worst scars. She cut it down, for me.”
39
Natasha
As a girl with not so very high self-esteem, I imagined my first kiss with a boy who was at my level. It would be awkward and would soon fizzle out because he’d decide I wasn’t good enough for him, but he wouldn’t be so conceited as to come right out and say it. He’d tell me he wants to still be friends and we would be, for a short time.
I was prepared to grow from the experience. And believed it would have given me confidence and lessened my fear about not being attractive, so that when a guy like Aaron Esposito asked me out, I’d say yes.
Until I met Oliver.
As a girl, I imagined I would have to carry that burden alone because it wouldn’t be something I could talk to my mom about, and Autumn would probably hunt him down and rid him of his balls.
Until I met Oliver.
Leaving not only Mom, but her husband, waving me off to go with Oliver tonight was also something I never imagined. And it was awkward as hell, until he kissed me.
This kiss wasn’t the Eiffel Tower kiss, it was lips and tongues and moans and groans. It was need and want, desire and demand. It was touching and being touched, and it was nearly so much more, until he jerked away and growled, “We need to go.” It was so much more than I ever imagined.
Walking into the hotel holding Oliver’s hand, I know I should be nervous. I mean, what girl isn’t her first time? But excitement is trumping nerves as I look up and see GQ Joe, the very first man to look at me like he desperately needed to know me, who looked at my scar and thought I was beautiful because of it, not in spite of it, the man who protected my virtue, played along with a stupid lie to ensure my feelings weren’t hurt, the man my best friend still calls the inked God of Heat, the man who told me the truth when it would have been easiest to lie, the man whose pain I felt deep in my soul, the man who broke my heart, the man who went to war to find out the meaning behind the color of my eyes, the man I was so afraid to love, and now will love until my last breath, my fiancé, my future husband, Oliver Josephs.
On the elevator, he hits the top floor button and walks at me with purpose. I walk back until my back hits the wall, his hands grip mine and he pulls them over my head, enclosing one hand around mine as his lips come down, first softly then… teeth pulling at my lower lip, he groans. My mouth opens to his and his hot tongue rubs up and down mine as his free hand grips my side and he pushes against me.
He’s hard against my stomach and soft against my mouth. He’s gentle and firm at the same time. When his hand grips my butt and pulls me against him, I bite down gently on his tongue and suck on it, causing his hand to grip me even tighter.