I smirk slightly. “Should it?”
He drops his eyes a moment before raising them to meet mine again. “I think that kiss was the first time I ever thought about forever.” Wait, what? He’s down the porch steps and in his car before I snap out of it. Did he just say that or did I imagine it? Closing the door, I lean my back against it and raise my fingers to my mouth. It may have happened over thirteen years ago, but standing here, remembering it, reliving it in my mind, I can almost feel the tingle on my lips. And there it is. The suck. It’s been one day and he’s already sucking me back in.
After I leave Clara’s, I drive around for a bit, trying to digest the evening. I have a daughter. It still stuns me every time the thought travels through my mind. I drive for what feels like hours, thinking of Neena and her dire situation, and thinking of Clara and . . . well . . . her beauty. She’s definitely held up well after all these years. I can’t deny that in the thirteen years I’ve been gone, I’ve wondered about her—often. How was she? Had she found someone else? Had she returned to her old life in Texas?
Before I know it, I’m parking my truck in front of Marcus’s place and heading inside. Fuck it, I need to unload on a friend. He did offer after all. Marcus lives in a double-wide behind the office that my uncle left to him after he passed away.
When I open the door and step inside, I freeze. There’s a tiny Asian woman with huge fake tits sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Her head is back, her mouth open, and she’s moaning . . . pleasurably moaning. The couch is blocking her lower half, but her dress is pulled down, revealing her sizable chest held up in a purple, lacy bra.
“Good,” she cries out in a thick accent. “So good.”
The door slams closed behind me and her eyes fly open as her head whips in my direction. She proceeds to spew words I don’t understand, a million miles a minute, as she tugs her dress up with one hand and the skirt part down with the other. I’m holding my hands up, about to leave, when Marcus’s head pops up just above the top of the couch.
“Paul,” he groans, before he runs his forearm across his shiny, wet face.
“Holy shit!” I laugh. “Were you just going down on her?”
The woman continues to yell at me, her arms flailing as she turns to Marcus and starts yelling at him.
“It’s Paul,” he tries to explain, but it’s to no avail. She yells at him some more, then shouts at me one more time before stomping off to the back and slamming a door. Marcus, with his hands on his hips, walks around the couch toward me. He’s shirtless and his belt is undone, with his hair disheveled.
“That was Mei-ling,” he informs, his tone calm yet edged with anger.
“That’s your girl?” I question. “Damn, bro. She’s hot.”
“And to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” He ignores my compliment as he walks to the fridge and pulls out a beer.
“You said if I needed a place to stay, to let you know.”
“Yeah . . . let me know,” he points out as he twists the cap off and tosses it at the trash can, missing it by inches. He shrugs and takes a long swig from the bottle.
“That’s why I came by. This is me letting you know.” I smirk.
“Ever heard of a phone call?” he questions sarcastically.
“If I’d known you’d be going down on your girl like your life depended on it, I wouldn’t have just barged in.”
“Well from now on, don’t barge in.”
“Noted.”
He does a little backward hop on the couch, careful not to spill his beer, and shimmies back until he’s comfortable. “So . . . ?”
“So?”
“How are you? Big night for you.”
With a loud sigh, I point to the fridge and he nods. I get myself a beer and return taking a seat on the recliner. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me,” I admit. I take a long pull from my beer and add, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, man.”
His head jerks up, his forehead creased with furious wrinkles. “Are you serious?” he asks.
“Yeah. Why didn’t one of you come and look for me if you couldn’t get in touch with me?”
Marcus slides off the couch, and places his bottle on the coffee table with a thud, causing the liquid to fizz out over the rim and dribble down. He marches to the front door, pushing it open. “Get out.”
My head rears back slightly. “What?”
“You heard me. Get out.”
“What the fuck, dude? Why?”
He stomps to the kitchen and grabs his T-shirt off the floor, jerking it on. “You left all of us. Not just Clara with a baby on the way. All of us, without one fucking word.”
“I’ve always just left without a word,” I defend. “It never pissed you off before. And I had no idea she was pregnant.”