Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
When she was little and had a nightmare, she’d come to us at night, teary-eyed but trying to be brave, and she’d said her doll or whatever toy wanted to sleep in our bed. She’d had to stay too, of course. She couldn’t possibly leave her doll behind.
Grief slashed through me, a familiar feeling that refused to fade, because I’d never get that again. We’d been such a good family because we’d all loved being a family. Alfie and I had gone all in on the weekend breakfasts, the outings, and… The rougher times too, like when Trip had recovered from his traumatic start in life. Months of nightmares from biological parents who’d neglected him, left him on his own, and mistreated him. Or just the average Wednesday when Ellie had screamed bloody murder because it was bath time.
Before Alfie, I’d been half hopeful, half resigned about children. There’d been a lot of maybes and doubts because I’d never met anyone I’d wanted to start a family with. But Christ… All that had obviously changed with him, and we’d discovered we were born to be Trip and Ellie’s parents.
“Come on. I can give you a grand tour in the morning…” Alfie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bathroom.
I flicked another glance at the bed, and I made a face as unwelcome images flooded my brain.
Before he could open the door, I yanked him to me and nodded at the bed.
“Promise me another man hasn’t shared that bed with you.”
What I really wanted to say was, promise me another man never will share that bed with you.
He looked up at me, confused. “I told you—”
“I need to hear it. Maybe you brought someone home and fooled around, then stopped before things could get heavy.”
He let out a breath and closed the distance between us with a soft kiss and a hand to my neck.
“You’re the last man I kissed, sucked off, and got fucked by,” he whispered against my lips. Music to my fucking ears. Except, my mind was still on the future. “There’s no one else, West, and no one’s come close.”
There’s no one else.
My eyes burned behind closed lids, and all I could do was kiss him back. I couldn’t have it both ways. Eventually, he would move on, regardless of what he believed tonight. And then, he’d wake up in the middle of the night with someone else’s arms wrapped around him when Ellie came in because…her doll had had a nightmare.
It sickened me.
I kissed him harder and swallowed his whimper, and I welcomed a new round of clinginess from him. He plastered himself to me, and a surge of energy flowed between us. He could suddenly feel my own desperation, couldn’t he?
When he couldn’t find the doorknob behind him, I reached out and opened it, and then we were back to removing each other’s clothes. What was left of them.
I turned on the lights when he pushed down my pants and boxer briefs, and I noticed it was a dimmer switch. One of the few features he’d loved about my house when it’d been his too.
I dimmed the lights and gave the room a cursory glance. True enough, large shower. The whole bathroom was covered in mosaics in shades of grayish blue, with the tiled floor ranging in darker hues.
Alfie kept things tidy, always had, with the exception that every area needed what he called a crap drawer or some sort of container. He had wooden box on the counter next to the sink, and it was labeled “Et cetera.” If I were to dig through it, I’d find Ellie’s hair ties, nail clippers, hair product samples, and crap no one had a designated space for.
I’d smile at another Alfie-ism if I weren’t busy drowning in sorrow. Maybe defeat too. How could I ever fucking turn down the slightest chance at getting him back? And with the sense of impending surrender came ridiculous hope that I was ready to look past all the problems. He was in the mafia? So fucking what! He’d be mine again. It’d be the two of us again, as a family, consequences be damned.
I was losing it. Going around in circles, tweaking my previous reasonings, thinking, rethinking, repeating myself, changing my mind—living in my head. I was done. For the moment, at least. I kissed him harder as he reached into the shower to turn on the water. He mumbled something about it taking a moment to heat up, and I didn’t care. It gave us time to crank this up, so I could escape my inner turmoil.
“Get the dildo and a bottle of oil,” I ordered, needing to catch my breath again.
Considering his reaction, he was game. He rushed over to the counter and opened a drawer, and he dug out the dark-blue toy, along with the suction cup. He said there was a bottle of almond oil in the shower already, and I shouldn’t be surprised. He was still him. Our preferences and habits hadn’t changed. It was like coming home—or stepping back in time to how everything had been a few years ago.