I open the door and Lana’s standing there eavesdropping because that’s what a nosy bitch does. I try to move around her but she steps with me, blocking my escape. I place my hands on her arms. She thinks I mean to kiss her because she closes her eyes and leans in but instead I force her aside.
She grasps my biceps tightly, pressing her long claws into my skin. “I heard what she said. Your wife doesn’t want you the way you are—but I do.”
The more Lana says, the more I realize how much I hate her. I can’t believe I ever had a relationship with this bitch. “I’m not discussing my marriage with you.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like there’s a marriage to discuss. Your wife is repulsed by the person you are—the man I made you, per her words.” She advances toward me. “If she loved you, she’d be fine with who you are.”
I continue to hold her at arm’s length. “Stop. I don’t want to hear this.”
“I’d be okay with you having other women. You could bring them into our bed anytime you wanted.” She grins and gestures toward the door of Evan and Emma’s bedroom. “I’ve come to like it. Maybe you and me and Laurelyn could give it a try.”
What the hell is wrong with her? “I punched the last person who suggested something similar.”
“My tastes have matured since we were together. I like it rough.” She unexpectedly shoves me. I’m caught off guard and my back slams against the wall, making a loud thud. “So would you if you’d let me show you.”
She’s not just a bitch—she’s crazy. “You’re nuts and I’m done here.”
I push against her to escape but she locks her arms, pulling me with her against the wall. I stumble, landing chest to chest with her, causing another loud thump. “See? I knew you’d like it rough.”
She holds on to me tightly and her intent is no mystery. She wants L to open the door and see me with her like this.
And she gets what she’s after.
Laurelyn stands in the doorway staring at me tangled in Lana’s arms. I’m f*cked—and not the way I want to be. “L. It’s not what it looks like.” That’s all I’m able to say before she storms past down the hallway.
“How f*ckin’ cliché! At least have enough respect for me to be original.”
“Whoops,” Lana laughs.
I’ve never been violent toward a woman in my life but I have to fight the urge to put my fist in this one’s face. At the very moment I feel like I could explode, I punch my clenched hand through the wall next to her head. She appears somber and fear creeps into her eyes. She’s frightened by my display and potential of what I might do to her. Good. I hope I’ve managed to put a stop to her game. “I never want to see your face again.”
I push away from her to go find my wife and I see Evan still bartending as I pass through the kitchen. “Did Laurelyn come through here?”
“Umm … yeah. I think she went out the door to the garage.” I’m guessing she has Daniel on his way and plans to sneak out. She won’t if I have anything to do with it.
It’ll take him at least twenty minutes to get here so I walk over to the kitchen sink to wash my bloody hand. Evan calls out, “Whoa, bro! Who’d you punch?”
It stings as the cold water hits the open skin. “Not who. Tell Emma she can pick a new color for the hallway if she wants since you’ll be needing some sheetrock work.”
“I’m assuming that was no accident.”
“Definitely not. Laurelyn thinks she saw me f*cking around with Lana.” Even I admit it must have appeared that way. “You know I wasn’t. She set it up to look that way.”
“I knew she was up to something when she called Emma out of the blue. She was fishing for an invite to the party so she could get to you and Laurelyn.”
Emma walks up. “Who wanted to get to you and Laurelyn?” She looks down at my hand. “Oh hell. What happened?”
“A shitstorm named Lana.” I don’t want to explain this again. “Catch Emma up. I gotta find L and explain.”
I go into the garage and find no trace of Laurelyn so I call her phone. I hear the faint Hawaiian rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and follow its melody toward the courtyard. She’s sitting at the bistro table digging through her purse to find the noisemaker. I’m sure she wants to silence it so I don’t discover her hiding place. Too late.
She’s crying and it breaks my heart to guess what’s she’s imagining. “You’ll go away if you know what’s good for you.”
“I’ve already told you I know what’s good for me, and it’s you. Always you. That’s never going to change.” I want to go to her but I’m afraid she’ll push me away.
“Really? Because you sort of looked like you thought Lana might be good for you a few minutes ago.”
“Does it make sense that I would walk away from you and f*ck around with Lana two seconds later when you could come out of the bedroom at any second and see me? Come on, L. You know that was a total setup. Just like her cornering you outside.” She doesn’t reply but she doesn’t dispute my allegation, either. “Babe, it’s impossible for you to wrap your head around the malicious things Lana is capable of because your heart is so good and pure. Trust me when I say she’s venomous. And determined. She’ll do anything to get what she wants.”
“She wants you.”
“And you too.”
She looks confused, as she should be. “What?”
“I’m not the only one she’d like to have. She proposed a threesome.” She looks as though she’s waiting to hear me say if I accepted or declined the offer. Shit, I can’t believe she’s at a point where I have to confirm that. “I said no.”
Lana has successfully f*cked me after all.
“I think there’s been a lot of misunderstandings tonight and I want to clear them up.” I drop to my knees in front of L and take her hands. “I don’t want Lana, even though she tried to make it appear as though I did. I love you. You’re the only one for me.”
“That may very well be the case but I’m not ready to say all is well and get over what just happened.” She looks down as tears fall from her eyes. “I’m just so … damn mad.” Her words convey anger but her tears, along with the sob that follows, tells me she’s something else—in pain.
How did it come to this? I didn’t do anything wrong yet I feel like a bastard. My wife is upset and crying and I don’t know how to fix it.
The car’s headlights shine on us when Daniel pulls into the drive and I ask if she’s going to let me come home with her. She has a habit of making me leave when she’s angry. She doesn’t answer immediately and my heart pounds. She sighs. I know she probably wants space but I don’t want to be away from her tonight. I think being apart could cause more harm than good. “Please don’t make me stay somewhere else tonight.”
She reaches for her purse and gets up, leaving me on my knees. “Come on. Daniel’s waiting.”
She doesn’t utter a single word on the drive home—and neither do I. I can only guess what she’s rolling around in her head right now, but I’m predicting it isn’t good.
We arrive at the apartment—our temporary home while visiting Sydney—and I can’t believe this is how we’ve spent our first New Year’s Eve as husband and wife. We walk toward our bedroom, me following her, and I totally expect her to slam the door in my face or tell me to find another place to sleep. She doesn’t.
She’s a little unsteady from Evan’s painkillers so she leans over to hold the footboard as she kicks off her pumps. “I hope you know you’re not putting your hands on me tonight.”
I look at the time and see it isn’t yet midnight, but it’s close. This isn’t how I want our first year to end so I decide to take a leap—one I hope doesn’t land me on my face. “It’s almost midnight. I don’t want to go into next year like this.”
Tonight’s events aren’t small, so I’m sure Laurelyn has things she needs to say. She’s hurt and her wound can fester, causing damage to our marriage. As her husband, it’s my responsibility to contain this infection known as Lana.
“We have five minutes before we begin two thousand fourteen. I want you to take these last moments to say anything you’d like. Rant and rave. Kick and scream. Tell me you hate the way I’ve lived and what I’ve done in the past. Tell me if I’m f*cking up this marriage. Say or do whatever you feel you need to so we can move beyond this night. Let me have it good, babe.”
I’ve stunned her speechless.
This is probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. She’s incredibly hurt and angry so if she takes me up on this offer, I should expect her to say harsh things. But I want to give her this outlet. She needs it. “There’s nothing you can say to make me unlove you, so go for it without looking back.”
“I’m not doing it unless you do the same. Tell me the things you’d like to say yet choose to hold inside.”
Is it possible to make these confessions, not discuss them, and move on as if nothing happened? It suddenly feels like a challenge—a game of truth or dare—and is no longer about Lana. This is something more and goes deeper than tonight’s events.
Women are so different from men. We are pissed off for a little while but get over it quickly. Women have long memories and hold grudges so this might not go well for me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I can always handle anything you say, as long as it’s the truth.” I get this now. She wants my true confessions.
“I’ll agree but only if you swear you’ll have no regrets. You can’t dwell on anything I say.”
She’s terrified but excited. At least that’s what I think I see in her eyes. “Do your worst. Tell me your fears and the demons you hide.”
I set the timer on my phone. “A three-minute confession. We squeeze in whatever we can in a hundred and eighty seconds. Say it, get it off your chest, and move on without discussion or explanations. When the timer ends, it’s a new year, a new start. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
I press start on my phone. “Go.”
She looks at me, bewildered. “I don’t know if I can. I’m afraid.”
She’s overthinking this so I’ll go first—starting with her sorry-ass mother and father. “If your parents ever treat you poorly again, I’m telling them to f*ck off, especially your mum. She really pisses me off.” Laurelyn’s eyes grow large and she doesn’t reply. I don’t think that’s where she expected me to start. “If you don’t say anything, that means you forfeit your turn and I get to go again.”
“I despise what you did with those first twelve women because of Lana. I understand it’s irrational for me to be angry about things that happened before you knew me, but it doesn’t stop me from being pissed off every time I think about it—which is often.” This isn’t surprising to hear. I often think about her being with Blake, as well, although their relationship came before us.
Speaking of Blake … this grievance is all on me but she should know the way I feel. “I’m furious with myself because I was tending to business instead of being with you the night Blake attacked you. I have to work very hard to not see the image of him on top of you with your dress shoved up to your waist.” I look down because I can’t look at her when I say the next part. It’s bad. “And sometimes I wish I hadn’t heard your voice telling me to stop because I wanted to kill him. I still do.” I’ve probably scared the shit out of her, but damn, that feels good to get off my chest.
She doesn’t give me time to dwell on what she thinks of hearing me say I want to kill Blake. “I worry you’ll miss the thrill of being with other women.”
I’d like to address that one—to tell her it isn’t possible to ever be thrilled by the thought of being with a stranger after having something so real and true with her. But what we’re doing now isn’t about explanation; it’s about confession. “I worry that one day you’ll figure out I’m not worthy of your love.”
“I’m terrified you’ll decide I’m too complicated and not worth the trouble I cause you.” Never. She’s a complication I can’t live without.
“I’m afraid you’ll never get over my past and what I did with those other women.” I’m worried more than ever now because she has admitted she thinks of them often.
“I’m still pissed off that you almost added a fourteenth to your list of companions.” Can’t blame her for being pissed off about that one—what a total f*ck-up on my part.
“I’m scared you want to put off having a baby because you’re not really sure you want to be with me forever.” I check the time on my phone. “Thirty seconds left.”
“I’m scared I’ll be a shitty mother like my mom.” Not possible. She’s nothing like her mother.
“I wasn’t unhappy when you told me it was your birth control patch I had pulled off.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’d beat you senseless with a handbag right now if I had one handy.”
How can she think she’d be a shitty mother? She already acts more like my mum than her own. “You’re becoming more like Margaret McLachlan every day.”
I hold up the phone and she announces, “Ten seconds.”
It’s her turn but I’m going again. We’re almost out of time and I have something to say. “I want you to have my baby … please say you will.”
She says nothing and the timer alarms, signaling the end of our timed confession. My heart and mind feel clear. Do hers? Or was that the worst thing we could have done?
That was stupid of me to ask her to have a baby during a three-minute confessional. I want to know what she’s thinking, but dammit, I can’t ask. We agreed this wasn’t about discussion.
I bet she’s pissed. She’s already told me she’d think about it and I agreed I wouldn’t pressure her. But now I have. And without giving her the option to respond if we stick to these stupid rules.
I have f*cked up again. Why do I keep doing this? “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Just give me a minute to grab something to sleep in and brush my teeth.”
I take my sleep pants from the chest and go into the bathroom. I’m changed and finished brushing when L comes up behind me. She slides her arms around my waist and places the side of her face against my back. She’s shorter and smaller so her image is almost completely hidden in the mirror. “I didn’t ask you to sleep somewhere else.”
“You told me to forget touching you.”
“It doesn’t mean you have to leave our bed.”
I’m not trying to convince her to kick me out of bed but I know when I’ve f*cked up. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Even I know I’ve done wrong, L.”
“You’ve also done right.” She kisses the bare skin on my back and then her touch is gone too soon. “Even I know that.”
I watch her reflection in the mirror as she turns and lifts her hair. “Unzip me?”
I grasp the zipper of her black sheath dress and pull, letting my fingers graze her skin on the way down. I’m sure it’s the most action I’ll get tonight.
We’re standing in the bathroom and I’m peeling her out of a dress following an incident with one of my former lovers. This is like déjà vu because we’ve done this before. I recall being sent away that night, but not this time. She’s letting me stay.
I’d like to kiss her bare shoulder. It’s right there, so close to my mouth, begging me to place my lips against it, but I resist because I’m still not sure where I stand.
She catches the straps of her dress and eases them down her body. She wiggles as it slides down and tosses it onto the bathroom counter, leaving her in a black lacy push-up bra and a G. She’s hot as hell—like always—and I think this is my punishment for my earlier offenses.
I don’t think I can take this. She needs to be covered if I can’t touch her. And it doesn’t need to be any of that sexy stuff she usually wears to bed. As much as I love her in it, I don’t want to see her in it tonight if I can’t touch her. “I’ll grab you one of my T-shirts.”
“Don’t.”
She reaches behind her back and unfastens her bra before tossing it on top of her dress. I’m surprised by what she’s doing because even at her angriest moments, I’ve never known her to be cruel.
I close my eyes because it’s agony to see her this way when she’s already told me I can’t touch her. “Please don’t.”
“Please don’t what?”
“Torture me.” I wave my hands back and forth in front of her near-naked body. “Using this.”
“Torture isn’t my intention.” She pushes her panties from her hips and shimmies out of them. They drop to her feet and she kicks them to the corner, leaving her wearing only black pumps. “Something you said changed my mind. I want you to touch me.”
L’s forgiving me? Forgetting tonight’s events?
“What did I say to change your mind?”
“Shh … it’s against the rules to discuss anything we said during our confessional.” She steps close so her body is pressed against mine. “It’s two thousand fourteen. Let’s start the year off right.”
She begins at my top button, making her way down until the front of my shirt is open. She brings my hand to her lips and sucks my index finger into her mouth as she removes my cufflink. She makes a show of sliding it in and out of her mouth, her tongue swirling. Then she moves to my other hand to do the same.
F*ck, it’s hot. I’m instantly hard.
She hops up on the counter, her bum landing on my hand towel, and motions with her finger for me to come closer. When I do, she yanks the front of my trousers open and drags my zipper down. She pushes my pants and boxer briefs to my knees and wraps her legs around me. I put my hand on her bum and easily slide her bottom to the edge of the counter.
She puts her hand around my rock-hard cock and slides it up and down her drenched entrance. I flex my hips, trying to get inside her but she pulls away. I expect her to tell me she needs to insert the spermicide but doesn’t. “Tell me I’m the only one.”
“You’re the only one, forever. It’ll always be you, L. Never doubt that.”
She wraps her arms around me and tilts her pelvis so my tip is pressing against her. “You’re the only one I ever want inside me.” She reaches around to my bum and digs her nails in as she pulls me into her … without birth control.
I don’t think she’s ovulating but this is still me inside her without contraceptive so anything could happen. And she’s not telling me no. Her body is telling me the complete opposite as her legs alternate between squeezing hard and relaxing as she rides me on the bathroom counter.
Her arms are wrapped around my shoulders and her mouth is pressed to my ear, enabling me to hear every sound her mouth makes as she grinds her body against mine. Every moan, every grunt. Even the soft, breathless sound of her saying my name when she comes, followed by her whispering how much she loves me.
Her climax comes before mine but moments later when I come, I squeeze her hard and close when I empty myself deep inside her womb. “I love you too, L. Only you.”
Things have been surprisingly good between Jack Henry and me since our New Year’s confessional. Good isn’t the right word. Great is more like it. Who would’ve thought that telling one another our innermost thoughts would be so healthy? I like this newfound depth in our relationship so much that I may ask him if we can do it again.
Jack Henry asked me to have his baby. Becoming parents is something he began talking about before we were married, but it seems to be on his mind all the time now—which means it’s on mine constantly as well.
A baby. That’s what I’m thinking about as I stand in Margaret’s kitchen preparing the lasagna I’m making for Jack Henry’s birthday party tonight, per his request. My mother-in-law comes to me with a bowl of chocolate frosting. She’s baking his favorite cake, something she does for every member of the McLachlan family on their birthday. “I have extra. Want to help me clean the bowl?”
“Absolutely.” She passes me a spoon and I dig in. “Omigod. That is so good, Margaret.” And it is. I’ve never tasted frosting this delicious. I can see why this is my husband’s favorite but it makes me realize something. I’ve never seen him eat chocolate cake. Ever. I didn’t know Jack Henry liked it. I’m his wife so how could I not know that? I bet it’s this family history with the heart stuff. He exercises religiously and rarely indulges in things he considers unhealthy because he’s fearful of ending up like his father and uncle. I’d like to ask Margaret about it but I don’t want to introduce concerns if she hasn’t already considered them.
“Did they start work on your music studio yet?”
“They poured the concrete early this week and said we could expect it to be finished sometime in May.”
“I would think that’s soon considering all the equipment that’ll be installed.”
One can anticipate fast progress when she’s married to a man with money and high expectations. “You know Jack Henry. He sets the bar high and expects everyone else to as well.”
Margaret grins. “He gets that from his father. Henry is a hard worker. I’m not sure he would have ever retired if I hadn’t cut him off.”
“You cut him off of what?”
“Nookie.” I giggle because the word itself is funny but hearing her say it makes it even more so. “I’m going to give you some advice because you’re still a new wife—and because my son can be a little shit at times. I know; I’m his mum.” She looks around as though she’s about to reveal top-secret information. “Nookie equals power and there’s a reason he wants it from you all the time. It levels the playing field. Don’t like something he’s doing? Take the nookie away. Get the results you want. Need him to see things your way but he refuses? Withhold the nookie and he’ll make the fastest attitude adjustment you’ve ever seen. Want your husband to retire because he’s going to work himself into an early grave and miss his grandchildren growing up the way he missed his kids? Close the gates of nookie and get your husband home with you instead of burying him. That’s how you work it, darling. You use the power of the nookie to get the results you want.”
Oh, my. She’s a sly one. I could learn a lot from her.
Henry comes into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He bends down, searching for something, and Margaret sashays over to him. She whispers something in his ear and gives me a wink before returning to the sink of dirty dishes.
Henry grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and takes a big swig. “You girls have been standing in here on your feet for too long. Go rest a minute and I’ll wash these dirty dishes for you.”
Wow. What a sweet father-in-law. “Thank you, Henry.” I give him a kiss on the cheek as I pass by. “You’re so thoughtful.”
Margaret and I go into the living room and put our feet up. “Don’t be mistaken, Laurelyn. That was not the offer of a thoughtful man.”
“You used the power.”
“Yes, I did, and you want to know what’s so brilliant about it? I still love being with Henry after all these years so I’d have given it to him anyway. Hell, I’d probably have instigated it myself, so it’s win-win.”
“You are the master.” Margaret is so cool. I think I just fell in love with her a little more. “What time is everyone coming?”
“Seven.”
Perfect. That gives me plenty of time to go to the apartment and get ready. “Who should I expect?”
“It’s normally only family but we’re having extra guests tonight. Chloe is bringing the new guy in her life and three of Jack Henry’s mates will be joining us.”
“I didn’t realize Chloe was dating anyone.”
“It’s still new so we’ve not met him, either.”
Wow. A few weeks. I guess I’ve been too busy if I’ve missed something important like that. “That’s great.”
“I hope Jack Henry doesn’t try to shake him down too much. I may need to speak to him before the dinner—maybe ask him to take it easy since he can be hard on her fellas sometimes.”
I can see him being like that, but she’s an adult, the same age as me. “Why is he hard on them?”
“It’s how he is. He’s always been incredibly protective of her since the day she was born.” She laughs. “He wouldn’t even let Evan near her for the longest time.”
“I haven’t seen him be overly protective with her.”
“He’s lightened up since you came along.”
“I guess she’s glad of that.”
“I suspect she is,” Margaret agrees.
We sit with our feet propped and Margaret tells me stories about Jack Henry as a child. I can’t stop smiling because I’m picturing this beautiful boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes getting into the mischief she’s describing.
I wonder if our babies will have his eyes. I hope so.
“What are you giving Jack Henry for his birthday?” Margaret asks.
I’m still smiling but for a different reason and I can’t keep it from her. “I have a few things for him but one special gift. He asked for a baby and I’ve decided to give him one.”
“Oh, Laurelyn.” She cups her hands over her mouth to muffle a squeal. “A baby. That’s wonderful news. Have you told him yet?”
“No. I’ll tell him tonight.” I have something very special planned but I’m keeping that part to myself.
“He’s going to be thrilled.”
“I know. I can’t wait to see his reaction.” I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a huge smile and then involve him taking me straight to bed.
Margaret claps her hand like a child. “Will you start trying right away?”
“Is tonight considered right away?”
She grins. “I have a bit of advice for you since you’re new at this.” She lifts her brows and whispers, “Put a pillow under your bum … after he does his thing. You shouldn’t get up right away; let gravity work for you.”
Omigod. Margaret is giving me pointers on how to keep Jack Henry’s sperm inside so his boys will swim upstream. This isn’t awkward at all. “Okay.” That’s all I can say.
“Stay that way about ten or fifteen minutes before you get up.” She giggles before giving me a wink. “I can’t wait to get my hands on another grandbaby.”