One and Only Boxed Set Page 11

  “So how do you know it’s even yours?”

  Even though I knew the question was fair, and I’d had it too, it made me angry. “Because I do, all right? She’s mine, and I’m keeping her.”

  She started up with the wheezing and the paper bag again, and I gave her a minute to calm down. My mother was the kind of person who could make a mountain out of a molehill, and I’d just put her at the foot of Everest.

  “Mom? You there?” Paisley had accepted the pacifier and was finally quiet—for now, anyway—and the crackling noise had stopped.

  “Yes. I’m here.”

  “Would you like to meet Paisley? I could drive up this week. I took some time off from work.”

  “Oh, dear. Oh, dear, I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was nervous and timid, like I’d asked her if she’d like to meet the Queen of England instead of her granddaughter.

  “Say yes. She’s really cute, and I’ll bring her in the early part of the day, so she’s not so fussy. Evenings are when she’s at her worst.”

  “You were, too,” she said, surprising me.

  “I was?” We didn’t talk about the past in my family.

  “Yes. You’d cry and cry, no matter what Daddy and I did to soothe you. And we tried everything—cereal in your bottle, gripe water, whiskey on your gums.”

  “Whiskey? You tried to get me drunk so I’d pass out and stop crying?” I joked.

  She laughed, a thing so rare I’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like. It made my throat tighten a little. “It was only a drop, I promise,” she said. “But that’s how things were back then.”

  “No wonder I developed a taste for a good bottle of rye.” I looked down at Paisley and tried to imagine a parent thinking it was okay—and a great idea!—to rub booze on her gums. “But I think I’ll skip the whiskey for now. She seems to like the pacifier, and she loves to be rocked to sleep.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve held a baby,” she said quietly. “I always thought I’d have grandchildren, but things turned out so differently than I’d planned.”

  “I know, Mom. Believe me. I know.”

  By the time we hung up, there was a tentative plan in place for me to drive up to Grand Rapids with Paisley next Saturday morning, depending on how my mother was feeling. I would give her a call that morning, and if she was up for a visit, we’d go.

  I was tempted to call Emme and let her know how the conversation with my mother had gone, but she was probably eating dinner by now. I didn’t want to bother her. But part of me couldn’t stop thinking about inviting her over to spend the evening hanging out with me, eating spaghetti and meatballs, maybe watching a movie after we got Paisley to bed. It was torture. After a while, I swore the aroma from the sauce was drifting from her kitchen across the hall into my apartment. Paisley was fussy and wouldn’t stop. I was hungry and lonely and wondering what the fuck had happened to my charmed life when there was a knock on the door.

  As I walked over to answer it, I hoped it was her and prayed that it wasn’t. I knew I wouldn’t have the strength to send her away.

  When I opened the door, there she stood, looking like an angel and holding two grocery bags in her hands. “Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten yet, but I ended up making a lot of food and thought you might want some.”

  “I could kiss you.” I meant it as a joke, but also, I was serious.

  She grinned and wiggled a finger at me. “Ah, ah, ah. That’s against the rules. We’re friends, remember?” But there was a glint of mischief in her eye that hadn’t been there last night. It thrilled and terrified me at the same time.

  “Come on in,” I said. “I haven’t eaten. I’m starving, but Paisley here doesn’t care.”

  “Paisley, what’s wrong?” Emme stopped to kiss my daughter on her forehead. “Mmm, you smell nice. And you look so cute with your hair done. What is there to cry about?”

  I followed Emme over to the kitchen, where she set the bags on the island and turned to me. “Do you want me to make you a plate now or put everything in the fridge for later?”

  “Have you eaten already?” I asked, bouncing Paisley in my arms.

  “No, but I don’t have to eat here. I can hold her while you eat and then go home for my dinner.”

  “No, don’t do that. Stay. Eat with me. She’s been up for a while—maybe we can get her down and have a quiet dinner. Watch a movie or something.” It’s not really breaking the promise, I reasoned. She came here, I didn’t call her.

  “You’re sure you’re not too tired?” She started taking things out of the bags—plastic containers full of pasta and sauce and meatballs and salad. “You look exhausted.”

  “Thanks,” I said, my mouth watering at the sight of a bag of frozen garlic bread. “But I think that’s just how I look now. I’m fine.”

  She laughed and turned on the oven to preheat. “Sorry this is frozen. I’m not much of a baker. More of a cook.”

  “I’m in no position to complain, and it all looks amazing to me. My stomach has been growling all day.”

  “Aww. Poor thing.” She patted my arm as she went by me to get to the cupboards where I kept bowls and plates. “I’ll make it better.”

  “Can I make you a drink?” I asked. Actually at that moment, what I wanted to ask her was to move in with me, marry me, never leave me. But a drink was probably a better idea.

  “Sure.”

  “Glass of wine?”

  “Perfect.”

  I pulled a bottle of red from the beverage fridge and set it on the counter, but since I had Paisley in my arms it was Emme who opened it, took two glasses down from the cabinet, and poured. While she did that, I grabbed the little baby brush from the couch where I’d left it.

  “I told my mother about her,” I said, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. I balanced Paisley on one leg and gave her the brush, which she stuck right into her mouth. At least it quieted her down.

  “You did?” Emme glanced at me over one shoulder as she stuck the pasta in the microwave. “How did it go? Was she upset?”

  “She was, but pretty much anything upsets my mother. I’m hoping once the shock wears off she’ll be glad to have a grandchild to fuss over. It would give her something good to focus on, I think.”

  “And your dad is gone?”

  “Yeah. He died a few years back. Right before I moved in here, actually.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stopped moving around and met my eyes. “Were you close?”

  “Not very, but your dad is your dad.” I was weirdly tempted to talk more about my family, which was never the case, but the words stuck in my throat. I’d burdened her enough with my shit lately, anyway.

  “This is where having supportive sisters comes in handy, I guess. Too bad you don’t have one of those.”

  “Yeah.” Or a brother, I thought, wishing for the millionth time Adam was still alive. He’d be thirty now, like Emme. And he’d probably have just as big a heart. Much better for her than I would be.

  “Want to borrow one of mine?” She flashed a smile at me as she stuck the bread in the oven. “I’ve got two, and one of them annoyed the crap out of me this morning. I’d loan her out for cheap, maybe even free.”

  I laughed a little. “Which one, the therapist or the yoga teacher?”

  “The therapist. Which might do you some good, actually. Have you thought about that at all? To help you deal with everything?”

  “I haven’t thought about anything but sleep and baby poop for two days, with the occasional break for a work-related panic attack.” And, of course, occasionally picturing you naked.

  “I get it. Well, something to think about anyway. We all went when my parents divorced and my dad came out as gay.” She shrugged. “I think it helped.”

  “That does sound like a lot to deal with as a kid.”

  “Well, we were older. In our teens.”

  “Still had to affect you.” />
  She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t know. Maybe. Anyway, my parents are both much happier now. Did your parents stay together?”

  “Yes and no.” I shifted Paisley to my other leg. “They never formally divorced, but after…” I stopped, unwilling to open up that much. Some wounds had to stay closed.

  “After what?” she prompted, placing salad into bowls.

  “There was just a point at which my parents must have decided they couldn’t live together anymore. Or didn’t want to. Who knows?” I focused on Paisley’s little hands gripping the brush. “I was a teenager by then too. Neither of them talked to me.”

  “And no siblings, right?”

  I swallowed hard. “No siblings.”

  While Emme finished getting dinner ready, I fed Paisley her nighttime bottle upstairs in my room where it was dark and quiet, then rocked her to sleep. It took me about twenty minutes, but she stayed down when I placed her in the sleeper. I kissed my fingertips, pressed them to her head, and silently made her a promise in the dark. I’ll be better than he was.

  I’d loved my dad, but I’d loved him because he’d been my father, not because of the kind of father he had been. While I didn’t blame him, because the circumstances had been so far out of his control, the grief too unfathomable, I never wanted Paisley to suffer because I didn’t put her first—above myself, and above anyone else.

  And I never wanted Emme to suffer, either, which would surely be the case if she pinned her romantic hopes on me.

  But when dinner was done, and the wine was gone, and the movie credits for Casino Royale (my thanks for her bringing dinner) were rolling, I didn’t get up and turn on the lights like I should have. I stayed right where I was, lying on my back at one end of the couch with my legs stretched out toward Emme, who was on the other end, her legs stretched toward me. My feet were tucked between her and the back of the couch, but hers barely came to my stomach.

  She yawned. “It’s late.”

  I turned off the television, leaving us in darkness. “After midnight.”

  “What time will she wake up again?”

  Closing my eyes, I brought my hands behind my head. “Who knows? Probably soon.”

  “Why don’t you stay down here and sleep? I’ll go upstairs, and when she wakes up, I’ll take care of her. I don’t have to get up early or anything, but tonight is probably the last night I can help you out for a while because of work.”

  God, she was too good to be true. Affection for her flooded through me, and I opened my eyes. It was dark, but I could see her perfectly. And I wanted her desperately.

  It made me weak.

  “You think I could sleep down here knowing you were in my bed?”

  Stillness. Silence. “You couldn’t?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “I thought we said last night—”

  “I know what we said. And we were right.”

  “So you…you still think it would be a mistake.”

  “Yep. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it.”

  “Nate—”

  “Doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about it all night.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Doesn’t mean I could keep my hands off you if you stayed the night. In fact, I know I couldn’t.”

  “So…so I should go?” She was confused, and I didn’t blame her.

  “Hell yes, you should go.”

  She nodded slowly, swinging her feet to the floor.

  “But I want you to stay.”

  “Nate,” she whispered. “Tell me what to do.”

  I reached for her. “Come here.”

  Nine

  Emme

  I didn’t even hesitate.

  When his arms opened, inviting me into his embrace, I went, stretching out above him, my body flush against his. He was warm and firm beneath me, and as our lips met I could feel our hearts galloping madly toward each other, as if they were driven by force.

  We kissed with all the passion we’d been holding back. With hands wandering over clothing and then underneath. With tongues that sought to know the secrets of each other’s mouths—the taste, the texture, the shape. With bodies that began to move, to writhe and flex, as our patience grew thin. Clothing was discarded. My sweater and bra. His T-shirt and Henley. My leggings. His jeans. My panties, already damp with desire. By then we were desperate for one another, and frantically hoping we wouldn’t wake the baby.

  “Give me ten seconds,” he whispered between kisses.

  I sat up and watched him hurry through the dark into the downstairs bathroom, returning a moment later already ripping the condom wrapper off. When he got close enough, I put my hands on his boxer briefs and pulled them down. His erection, tall and thick, sprang free. “Let me,” I said. He handed me the condom and I rolled it on. My stomach was full of butterflies flying frantically in every direction.

  “Lie back.” He took me by the shoulders and guided me down, stepping free from his underwear and lowering his head between my thighs. I braced myself for the first, shocking sweep of his tongue, but he paused first. “Quiet this time, Calamity. I don’t want any interruptions.”

  I nodded, and while I can’t say I was quiet exactly—he was just so good with his tongue—I was at least less noisy. As I came down from the high, breathing hard, my body loose and liquid, we both listened.

  Silence.

  “Thank God,” Nate said, positioning himself above me, the tip of his cock teasing my warm, wet center. But as he slid inside, he stifled his own loud groan. “Fuck. I don’t know if I can be quiet.”

  I couldn’t do anything—not moan, not sigh, not whisper—I couldn’t even breathe as he buried himself slowly and deeply within me, stretching my body to fit his.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  My fingernails dug into his shoulders.

  “I’ll go slow.” He began to move in deep, gentle, undulating rolls that made his entire body seem to ripple over mine, like swells in the middle of the ocean.

  Gradually, the discomfort subsided and I slid my palms down his back, opened my thighs even wider, answered the rhythm of his hips with my own.

  I buried my face in his neck and inhaled, the masculine scent of him driving me higher. I swirled my tongue at the base of his throat, needing to taste his skin. He moaned again, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Nate,” I whispered, wanting to feel his name in my mouth.

  “Oh, God.” He propped himself up on his hands above my shoulders and our eyes locked. “You need to come again for me now.” His hips moved faster, the base of his cock rubbing my clit in quick, short strokes, the friction creating a fresh hum in my lower body.

  But I’d never come twice during sex before—ever. “I don’t know if I can,” I fretted, worried I was letting him down. “I’ve never—”

  “You’ve never been with me before. Come on. Let go. Let me take you there.” His voice, deep and determined, quiet but intense, compelled my body to obey, as if it didn’t give a fuck what my mind had to say about it, this was happening.

  “That’s it,” he whispered as my eyes fluttered closed and the muscles in my body went stiff, as if every function and feeling other than pleasure was put on hold, even breathing. “Yes. Come for me. Let me feel it…” He fucked me harder and faster, chasing his own release as he moved through mine.

  And then I was lost to it, to a world that was only the two of us. To the sound of his breath and the smell of his skin and the throb of his body inside me. To the fiery stars behind my eyes, to the heat coming off of our bodies. To the notion that finally, finally, I was the one in his arms. I was the one he wanted. I was the one he adored.

  I was still floating in a sea of bliss when I felt his lips on my forehead. My eyes opened. “Did we wake her?”

  “I don’t know. My heart is pounding too loud to hear anything but you.”

  “Mine too.” I moved my hands into the valley of his lower back, pressing my palms to his skin.
Suddenly I was sad I hadn’t really gotten to see him naked. Next time.

  Wait, would there be a next time? What was this? It had happened so fast, I hadn’t really had a chance to think. Hadn’t I been about to leave? I was pretty sure I had been, and then I’d heard those two little words that had plunged straight into my heart.

  Come here.

  And he hadn’t said it playfully or facetiously. It wasn’t a game. He’d just told me we’d been right to stop last night, and that I should go…

  But he’d wanted me to stay.

  Hearing him say that meant everything. It was the missing piece from last night. This was no momentary lapse in sanity. This was no oops. It didn’t just happen. We’d talked about it. We’d tried to resist it. We’d failed.

  But it didn’t feel like a mistake, or an end to our friendship. It felt like a beginning. Of what, I wasn’t sure. I only knew that I didn’t want to walk away.

  “Nate?”

  “Hmm?” His lips were still resting on my head.

  “Are we still friends?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Me too.”

  “Then it’s settled.” He lifted himself from me. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  While he was in the bathroom, I found my underwear and bra on the floor and put them on. I was pulling up my leggings when he came out, and I wished I could tell him not to get dressed so I could get my fill of his naked body, but I bit my tongue. It was magnificent, though. Even in the dark, I could see the sculpted curves of his arms, the lines on his stomach, the muscle tone in his legs. He threw on his underwear and jeans while I tugged my sweater over my head. Then he sat on the couch again. “I can’t believe she’s not up. It’s a miracle.”

  “You should have been sleeping.” I smoothed my hair and looked around for my shoes.

  “Fuck sleeping. Hey. Come here for a second.” He reached out and took my hand, pulling me onto his lap. “Are we okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, and I meant it. “I mean, I don’t really know what we’re doing, but I’m okay with that.”