by Gina Azzi
“And you’re hard,” she replies.
“So fucking hard for you,” I admit.
Her arms snake around my neck and she pulls me into her embrace, kissing me deeply. “Let’s do that again, James.”
I laugh softly and kiss her back. “Anytime you want, Bella. Every time.” I roll her again, until I’m on my back and she’s perched above me. Her eyes haze over with lust, her hair falls around her shoulders, wild and tangled. She grips my shoulders as my hands find her hips.
“Condom,” she tells me and I reach for a new one and pass it to her.
I smirk as she rips it open with her teeth, skillfully cleaning me up and rolling on a fresh condom. Then, she lowers herself over me with painstaking slowness that has my eyes rolling back in my head.
“This time, it’s my turn,” she says saucily.
“Fuck yeah,” I agree, turning myself over to Bella’s touch.
She rides me hard and deep and I love every second of it.
12
Bella
Waking up in James’s arms is like a half-forgotten dream. One I want to sink back into and play out until its conclusion. His arms envelop me, his scent soothing. The breath on the back of my neck tickles and the weight of his hand against my stomach roots me to this moment.
For the first time in years, I haven’t woken up before dawn to run. This morning, I didn’t need to. My body doesn’t feel restless and antsy. My mind is calm and quiet. It’s an achievement I’ve been striving for for a long time and I savor the feeling.
Stretching slowly, I feel a delicious soreness that fills my head with images from last night. The heat in James’s eyes when he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the way his lips parted when he entered me for the first time, the words he murmured at Carter’s. I’m falling for you, Bella.
A smile skates across my lips and I snuggle deeper into his embrace.
They’re words I never thought I’d hear again, words I knew better than to wish for. Who could love a half-woman like me? Broken, scarred, and desperate to both live in and never return to the past.
I’m falling for you, Bella.
But God, do those words fill me with a lightness that makes me feel like I’m floating. On the other side of tragedy, I also know better than to take those words for granted. Nothing in this world is a given and when you find a person, a someone, who understands the darkest parts of your soul and doesn’t try to change them, doesn’t try to change you, it’s nothing short of a miracle. After the past few years, I can use a miracle and I’m thankful mine appeared in the form of James Ryan.
I turn slowly, careful not to wake him. When our noses are nearly touching, I smile again, studying his face. Stubble shadows his jawline and a slight whistle rings out on his exhales. His eyebrows are dark and thick, his mouth lush, the cleft in his chin sexy. In sleep, he’s almost too pretty to be the formidable, serious defenseman he’s known as.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
“Your eyes are still closed,” I reply, grinning, because I can’t not smile when I’m around him.
His eyes flutter open and his lips curl. “I could feel you.”
“Really?” I ask, skeptically.
He nods, kissing the tip of my nose. “For a second, I thought I dreamed it all.”
“I know what you mean.”
“But then I started to wake up and I could feel your soft skin.” He swipes his fingers over the small of my back. “Your warmth”—he dips his head closer to mine—“and I just knew you were watching me. Creeper.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I was admiring you.”
He meets my gaze, his smile lopsided. “Well in that case…” He presses even closer and I can feel the length of him against my thigh.
My hand moves lower and I drag my fingers up his shaft.
“Christ,” he murmurs. “You’re too good to be true, Bella.”
I shift my weight so I can press myself even closer to him, skin to skin, heat to heat. “I’m not taking any of this for granted.” I roll on top of him, straddling his waist.
He swears softly, his eyes hazy with lust and sleep and want. “Trust me, baby. Neither am I.”
“Good.” I flip my hair over my shoulder and lower my face to his, kissing him slowly, before trailing down his body. His neck, his muscular chest, his tight abs.
James’s fingers find my hair and tangle there, alternating between sharp tugs and sweet brushes. His breathing increases, his limbs locking down. I love that I can affect him like this. His reaction fuels me, filling me with a brazenness, a confidence, I haven’t leaned into in a long time. I feel sexy, desired, wanted.
By the time my lips close around him, he’s desperately hard with need and I’m nearly panting with want. I want to make him feel good, I want to light him up, I want to claim him. The same way he claimed me—body, heart, and soul.
We spend the early morning hours wrapped up in sheets, caged in by pillows, lost to the world outside of James’s bedroom. It’s perfect and I revel in every sweet second of it.
“Pancakes or waffles?” he asks, handing me a mug of coffee.
I’m sitting on the kitchen island, one of James’s T-shirts hanging off my shoulder. “Waffles. You?”
“Same. Ocean or Lake?”
“Ocean.”
“Lake.”
“No!” I groan. “Really?”
He snorts, slipping onto a barstool. “What’s wrong with the lake?”
“I just feel like beach people are my people.”
James rolls his eyes.
“Lakes have too many flies,” I point out.
“The ocean is too unpredictable.”
“It’s fun!” I retort, taking a sip of my coffee. “City or country?”
“Country.”
I gasp.
“What?” James asks, his eyes wide with amusement.
“We have nothing in common.”
“You prefer the city?” He gapes.
“Any day of the week.”
“Why?”
“It’s…people. Life.”
“Nature is life.”
“Oh no, I forgot you guys camp,” I mutter.
He swears. “You don’t like camping?”
“I’ve never been.”
James groans. “Bella, you haven’t been living.”
“I beg to differ.” I point at him. “Going off into the middle of nowhere—”
“National parks aren’t nowhere.”
“You’re going to make me camp, aren’t you?”
His eyes dance. “And fish.”
I laugh. “Do the twins really like all these activities?”
“They do.”
I sigh. “Then I’ll give it a try. But”—I point at him—“I’m not sleeping in a tent. And there needs to be bathrooms. Real ones, not a hole in the ground.”
James snickers, shaking his head at me. “This summer, we’re going camping, baby. Swimming in the lake at dawn and hiking at dusk.”
I make a face but inside, I’m excited. As much as I’m not a nature girl—and I’m one hundred percent not, unless it’s the artificial nature of five-star hotels—I want to camp with James. Just because of how excited he looks at the prospect of introducing me to it. Because of how much he seems to truly enjoy it.
I want to do something I’ve avoided for years because it’s important to him. If that’s not love, then I don’t know what is. Besides, if he’s talking summer, he’s making plans for our future. Together.
I hide my smile behind my coffee mug. “I’m in.”
His eyes flick up to mine and hold. “Me too.”
I clink my coffee mug against his and take a sip, still fighting the smile on my lips.
Because even though we both agreed to camping, we really agreed to a hell of a lot more than that. We agreed to the future.
“So, you’re dating,” Dr. Carlisle concludes during our session.
I smirk. �
�I have a boyfriend, Dr. C,” I joke and he cracks a smile, his eyes warm.
“I’m happy for you, Bella. This is a big step. Huge, really.”
“Yeah. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels more natural, like an organic extension of everything we’ve been through, shared together.”
Dr. C nods. “And Milly and Mason? How do they feel about it?”
Here, I falter, biting my bottom lip.
“Ah,” Dr. C surmises. “Are you planning to tell them?”
“It’s kind of new…” I sigh. “But yes, I’d like to tell them. Of course I don’t want to keep James and me a secret. Because we’re not doing anything wrong.”
Dr. Carlisle raises an eyebrow with an are-you-seriously-asking-my-permission quirk to it. “Bella, there’s no right or wrong in these situations. Grief and loss affect people differently and how they process, heal, and move forward happens incrementally. With different time frames. Do you feel like you’re doing something wrong?”
“No.”
“Are you worried about what Milly and Mason will think?”
I nod, picking at a hangnail. “I don’t want them to think I’m trying to take their mother’s place.”
“Then you need to explain that to them and show them. Continue to honor their mother the way you have been. Allow them to feel the way they feel and help them navigate the new feelings that may arise if your presence in their life takes on a different meaning. Or title.”
“Yes, you’re right. I need to talk to James about it. Make sure he wants to tell them too, figure out how…it’s just, it’s so new and fragile and I don’t want to mess things up.”
“If having honest conversations messes things up, then is this really the type of relationship you want?” Dr. C poses wryly.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You got me there, Doc.”
He smirks. “Have you given any more thought to our discussion regarding family? How you envision creating or being part of a family?”
I nod slowly. “I have. To be honest, I can see myself being part of the Ryans. I have since the beginning, since before James and I even started…this.” I gesture around the room. “I just, I want to belong to something larger than myself. I want to have those emotional connections and tight unit where we know we can count on each other for anything. And yeah, I’d still like to have a baby one day. I’d love to be pregnant again, to feel those little kicks. But it’s not a deal breaker. You were right; there are a lot of ways to make a family. Sometimes, I get so caught up on what I lost that it’s hard to imagine anything than the life I was supposed to have.”
“That makes a lot of sense, Bella. I’m glad you’re clarifying things for yourself. And it’s normal to cling to what was, to what you once thought would be. But maybe, this is the life you’re meant to have.”
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling. “Maybe it is.”
I wrap up my session with Dr. Carlisle, his words rolling through my mind. Since moving in with the Ryans, I feel a lot more settled in my life, in my future. My conversations with Dr. C have taken on a glimmer of hope, of possibility, when they used to be firmly rooted in getting through the day. I’m proud of the progress I’m making and I say as much to my parents when I call them next.
After our chat, I check in with my brother. Colton is four years older than me but one would guess fourteen with how much he worries about me.
After everything that happened with Jerry, Colton stepped up in a big way. He took me to grief counseling, where I first connected with Dr. Carlisle. Colton encouraged me to go back to school, to pursue a career in psychology, even as I clung to the life I already knew: nanny-ing. The more I clung to my past, to the world I recognized, the more he tried to lend his support. His relationship with his long-time girlfriend suffered, until they broke up. He spent his summers in Boston with my parents, even though he was a teacher in Maryland. Colton is more than my brother, he’s my very first friend. My day one. And as much as I miss him, it’s a relief that after the first year of losing Miles, my brother resumed his own life.
Having him pause his life to support mine as it crumbled was the most thoughtful thing he could have done. But his actions left me reeling with guilt on top of the emotional cocktail already dictating my days.
“You sound good,” he tells me after we’ve chatted for a few minutes.
“I’m doing well,” I reply honestly.
“And this new family? The Ryans?”
“They’re pretty great. James and I hit it off and the twins are amazing.”
“What about the mom?” Colton asks.
I work a swallow. “She passed. Almost two years ago.”
My brother swears, his tone heavy with sorrow. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s been really hard for them.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much for you?” Colt asks, always worrying about me.
“I’m sure. If anything, connecting with James, talking with Milly and Mason, it’s been…healing. Kind of cathartic. I’ve been able to take a step back from my own grief and support them. It’s going to sound silly but we’ve all been…helping each other heal. Even Dr. Carlisle is happy with my progress.”
My brother is quiet for a few moments and I know he’s trying to read between the lines, fill in the gaps of what I’m not saying. But no way in hell am I telling my brother that I’m sleeping with my employer so I remain silent until he sighs. “Good. That’s good, Bells. As long as you’re happy…”
“I am. Now, tell me about you. What’s going on in your life?”
As my brother fills me in on a woman he recently started dating, the kids in his tenth-grade literature class, and some of the things his buddies from college are up to, I kick back in a chair and relax.
Glancing around the living room, I feel settled. Relaxed and at ease in a way I haven’t in a long time. Being here, with the Ryans, feels right. It’s as if things clicked into place and I’m not running anymore. Instead, I’m staying and staying feels pretty fantastic.
James orders in Thai takeout for dinner. Milly and Mason are exhausted from a fun sleepover at their aunt’s house so we decide to keep it low-key. Sitting around the coffee table with takeout containers, Mason pulls out the board game Clue.
“I haven’t played this in years!” I exclaim.
“I’ve never played,” James admits sheepishly.
“You’re going to love it, Daddy.” Milly opens the board while Mason picks out the game pieces. “You have to discover who killed Mr. Boddy. What weapon was used for the murder. And what room it happened in.” She points to the library and then the Conservatory.
“Here are the weapons.” Mason shakes out the candlestick followed by the lead pipe.
“Who bought you this game?” James asks warily, his eyebrows pulling together.
“Aunt Maia,” Mason replies, not missing the way his father is taking in the board game.
I snort. “It’s a classic.”
James shakes his head. “I’m sure. When I was a kid, I was too busy playing hockey to ever play any of these classic board games. I used to think my dad was too strict but now I think he was onto something…”
I laugh. “Come on, it will be fun.”
“Yeah, Daddy,” Milly echoes me. “It will be fun.” She snuggles closer to my side, practically sitting in my lap.
I brush her hair out of her eyes, smiling up at James.
His expression changes, a tenderness rippling over his face. We exchange a knowing glance, an understanding look. One that reenforces everything that’s changed in the past twenty-four hours.
One that fills me with certainty that this time, I’m making the right choice.
I’m taking a step forward.
13
James
In the space of a few weeks, my life changes.
Being with Bella, being intimate with her, flips my perspective. The early mornings streaked with worry are replaced with an easygoing lightness. Breakfast
becomes a family meal again. Getting the twins ready for school becomes a fun part of the day instead of a frantic chore to try to make it out the door on time.
Afternoons I used to spend watching game reels or getting in an extra workout, anything to focus my spiraling thoughts and avoid self-pity, are spent wrapped in Bella’s embrace. Lazy lovemaking followed by late lunches.
The dark nights I used to beg for sleep to quiet my mind and end my restlessness are spent watching old sitcoms and new action movies, with Bella next to me on the couch.
While we’re careful to maintain a professionalism in front of the twins, by the end of the following week, it’s getting harder to not touch her, to not kiss the back of her neck, to not ask her a personal question when they’re home. Bella asked me when we should share our relationship with the twins and I clammed up, unsure how to proceed.
How do I ease them into understanding that I’m dating someone? Will they be angry? Hurt? Confused? Will they hate Bella? Or worse, me?
Looking for advice, I run it by some of the guys on my team. They’re all unanimous in their decision to tell the kids. In fact, they’re truly happy for me, smacking me on the back and telling me that I’ve made a fantastic choice in Bella.
Over the past few weeks, she’s brought the kids to more of my games and all of the wives and girlfriends embraced her like she was one of them. Even before she really was one of them.
As much as my teammates’ approval soothes some of my concern, it doesn’t alleviate it entirely. Because the guys are like my brothers, of course they have my back. They want to see me happy. But maybe they’re not looking at the situation from the perspective of Milly and Mason.
For that, I need to touch base with someone who would put the twins’ best interest before mine. I need to tell Maia.
I swing by her house after practice in the middle of the week, knowing it’s her day off from working at the hospital. Nerves skate up my spine and I spend an extra five minutes idling in her driveway, my fingers tapping out a beat on the steering wheel.