She begs for more. She wants me inside her. She wants me on top of her.
But she ends up on top of me. Sitting up on my hips, rocking back and forth as she closes her eyes, her half-wet hair swinging back and forth, dragging across my chest. And we come together in all the ways. We climax, and meld, and become a couple again.
It’s perfect.
And it scares the shit out of me.
When we get back to the condo it’s after two in the morning. There is one light on in the sitting area and one light on in the kitchen, but it’s only an under-counter light, so it’s just a low glow. The rest of the house is dark and silent.
“What’s this?” Rochelle laughs, picking up a folded piece of paper propped up on the kitchen island. It says, Watch me. Underneath it is a tablet.
We take it to the couch and sink into the cushions, so close together, she’s almost in my lap.
Rochelle wakes the tablet and a still shot of a video comes up. It’s Bric and Adley, both smiling.
She presses the play button.
“Say hi to Mommy and Quin,” Bric says to the camera. He’s holding up one of Adley’s chubby hands, making her wave. “We wanted to show you what we did tonight.”
There is a ten-minute video chronicling their night together. Bric and Adley eating dinner. He’s got a piece of pizza in one hand, Adley cradled in his arm with the other. She’s drinking her bottle.
Then it’s bath time. She’s splashing in the super-deep tub in the master bedroom as Bric laughs and plays some kind of game with a rubber duck and a red block. He’s even using imaginative-play voices. Dumbass.
Then it’s story time. Which is interrupted by stinky diaper time. And even though Bric complains to the camera the whole time he deals with that unexpected detour, he handles it like a pro.
The last shot is of Adley sleeping in her new crib. Bric whispers, “She loves me,” into the camera. And then I hear him mumble, “I can’t wait for Christmas,” as he turns the camera off.
“That’s so adorable,” Rochelle says, kicking her feet up on the couch and laying her head in my lap. I play with her hair. We still smell like the pool, our night still fresh in my mind as she drifts off muttering, “I don’t think I really know Elias Bricman. I don’t think I know him at all.”
We get sleepy but we’re too tired to move. Finally, I pick her up, carry her in to the bedroom, undress us both, and we crawl in next to Bric.
He only wakes up long enough to hike a possessive leg over Rochelle’s hip and pull her close to his chest.
I let him have her now. I had her all night and while I might be a failure at a lot of things when it comes to relationships, I do know how to share.
So I share.
Chapter Twenty-One - Bric
“What?” I ask, looking up at Chella, then glancing down at the invoices again. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You’re in a good mood,” she says.
We’re sitting in the new tea room going over final details. The soft opening is this weekend. Chella has invited twenty-five people, but I don’t think it’s enough to do a proper assessment before the real opening next week.
“Did you get laid last night?”
“What?” I laugh. “Nope. Not even close. I spent the whole evening alone with Adley while Quin and Rochelle went on a date.”
“So that’s why you’re like this today.”
When I look up at her again, she’s got a crooked smile on her face. A knowing smile. “Like what today?”
“You’re glowing, Bric.”
I let out an actual guffaw at that. People turn to stare at us.
“You lost your baby virginity. Oh,” Chella says, placing her hand over her heart. “They grow up so fast.” She pretends to be overwhelmed with emotion, dabbing at fake tears in her eyes.
“Ha ha,” I say. “It was fun. She loves me, Chella. Like digs me, man. She laughs at all my jokes. She never whines when I change her diaper. She lets me play blocks with her and she enjoyed my version of The Princess and the Pea at bedtime. God, I wish I had known more about decorating nurseries before I bought all that stuff. I think I might need to redecorate. Don’t you think she needs a princess room?” Chella stares at me, her mouth half-open, like she was about to say something, then forgot what it was. “A Princess and the Pea room?” I clarify.
She still stares.
“What?” I ask.
“You…” she says. “You love kids.”
“No,” I huff. “I love my kid. Other people’s kids can fuck off.”
“No,” Chella counters. “You were a great Santa last year. You rocked it. I think you have the dad gene, Bric.”
I scratch my arm with a pen. “What’s that?”
“You’re a natural father. You have all the instincts.”
“Hmmm.” I consider this. “Well, I am pretty good at spooning those sweet potatoes into her moving mouth. I almost never get it in her eyeball.”
Chella smiles. “I might love you even more right now.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Elias Bricman, you will never cease to surprise me.”
I shrug. “Just my natural charm, I guess.”
“You guess? Well, I’d bet a million dollars—like I’d put up a million of my own dollars—if I could ask ten women from the Club if they think your list of qualifications includes the words ‘family man,’ if one of them—just one—said yes, I’d give that money to your favorite charity. What do you say?”
“What’s your point?” I ask.
“My point is, those words do describe you, Bric. But you’re so busy showing the world that you’re always in control, they think you’re nothing but a selfish asshole.”
“Nobody thinks that.” I laugh. “I give away billions of dollars a year.”
“Your company gives away billions of dollars a year. Elias Bricman gives away nothing.”
I think about this for a second. “I make personal donations. I think I probably make a lot—”
“I’m not talking about money, you oaf.” She’s shaking her head at me again. Like I’m ridiculous. “I’m talking about love.”
“I love people. I love you,” I say, winking at her.
“And Rochelle,” she says.
“Yeah, so?”
“And Adley. And Quin. And Smith.”
“There you go. That’s five fucking people right off the bat. Plus, I have a huge family. Seven brothers and four sisters. And like a bazillion cousins. I love all of them.”
“You come from a family of twelve kids?”
“Didn’t I ever tell you that? We could have our own TV show. You know, like those baby people do? The ones who never seem to stop fucking?”
She laughs loudly. It’s so nice to see her happy all the time. Smith is good for her. They are good for each other. “No, you never told me that. Where the hell are these people? Here?” Chella looks around like I might be hiding my family in the kitchen.
“Not here, you dingbat. They live up in Montana.”