Chapter Twenty-Five

Teala

“I got what I wanted for it. I had to let it go,” I tell Charlotte.

The housing market is finally back up after the slump, and my apartment sold in record time. It made the most sense to move into Macs’ house because it has more space. Saying goodbye to this place is hard. I grew up as an adult here, found myself, lost myself, and put the pieces back together in between these walls. It’s seen more than its share of men, and fights, and ups and downs.

“The realtors will be here soon. Ready to roll?” I ask, gazing out the window. I watch the figures move in the building across the way and wonder how much of my life they’ve seen. What do they know from the glimpses they’ve seen inside my world?

Charlotte sighs. “It does have the best view. I’ll miss this place.”

She’s here helping me with the last few small boxes. Macs asked if I could stay away for the afternoon because he was working on built-in shelves in the living room. His friends are there, and beer is involved, and that was enough to keep me away without asking another question.

“My new place has an awesome view too,” I remind her, spinning on my heel to face her.

She scowls as she picks up her handbag from the counter. “Yeah, because you live with a fucking GQ model, you bitch. God, what must it be like to sleep next to that every night? Do you hump his leg when you aren’t actually humping? I would.” Charlotte is bitter because her most recent boyfriend broke up with her.

After a quick peek down the dark hallway, I follow her out into the hall. “I don’t look at it that way anymore,” I explain.

She hits the down button to call the elevator. “Look at it how? Please tell me you know how lucky you are, Teala. Don’t be that dumb bitch who feigns ignorance about her status in life.”

I cackle. “You’re so wrong. I know exactly what I have and I remember what I had to go through to keep it.”

Charlotte looks down at her shoes and apologizes quickly. Everyone forgets how bad of a time I had for a while. I hid it well and most were surprised when I told them the extent of my problems. It was easily hidden because everyone was dealing with his or her own terrible shit at the same awful time. Charlotte lost an aunt and a cousin in the attacks. Jasmine lost two friends, both in separate cities, but in the wrong place at the wrong time. Carina got lucky and narrowly escaped with her life in a bombing at the food court of our favorite mall. My anxiety wasn’t something anyone else should have to worry about given our current circumstances. I would never fault them for not being there for me. The thought brings me back to that day and my stomach flips.

The elevator pings open to the garage and we silently make our way to my car. It’s an unspoken rule about silence in parking garages now. It’s another reason I was okay with leaving this place. I don’t feel as safe as I used to. Things and places are tinged with grief and marred by the security stolen from right under our noses.

“We should go shopping for clothes or something,” Charlotte remarks.

The engine purrs as I pull out into the sunshine of a perfect San Diego day. Agreeing with Charlotte is easy. We have an afternoon to kill. I dial my mom and a comforting peace surrounds me when her voice sweeps the car speakers.

“Honey. How are you?” she asks.

“I’m good. Charlotte and I are heading to the mall to shop. Did you want me to see if I can find that top for you in a medium?”

The last time we went to her favorite store, they were out of stock. I’ve tried to tone down my needy habits with regard to calling and seeing my mother more than I should, but I do what makes me happy. Dr. Rhodes didn’t think my relationship with my mother was unhealthy, per se, but he did mention I might rely on her emotionally too much. In light of all my recent self-discoveries I can say he’s probably right.

Macs gets the weight of my emotions these days. They’re heavy and full, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

“No, no. Don’t worry about me. Find something nice for yourself. I have a date tonight,” Mom says, her voice lilting in excitement.

Charlotte whoops and I giggle uncontrollably before we give her congratulations and ask if she wants any advice. Viola switches that conversation quickly, in no hurry to talk about men with her daughter. She should know I’m probably the only person with experience enough to give her advice on sex.

We say our goodbyes, and Charlotte starts in on a conversation about Smith and Carina and their impending baby. She says she feels left out because she’s not making babies with a big, throbbing SEAL. Even though I tell her, all the time, she should probably find a man with a normal career and schedule, there’s no talking sense into people on the outside. It looks glamorous and dangerous. It’s shrouded in secrecy and no one else really knows the truth unless they live it and breathe it. SEALs are hot.

We shop and buy things we don’t need, and drink coffee that winds us up, and we enjoy the easy afternoon. Our conversations are light and breezy and the normalcy of it all hits me at once.

“I haven’t thought about the attacks today,” I admit. I think I blush, ashamed to admit such a horrible thing.

She shrugs. “I haven’t either.”

We both glance over at the food court across the way and take a moment to remember the beginning of a new life chapter. It wasn’t just a new chapter for us. It was a new chapter for the entire world. Macs texts me a photo of the coffee table. I laugh, coming back into the moment.

“I think it’s time I head back home. I’ll drop you on my way.” I take a photo of the bags I’m holding and text the photo to Macs.

As we walk to the car, I watch the gray bubble dance, waiting for him to reply. The anticipation is almost too much to bear. I think he’ll send words back, but he may send another random photo I’m supposed to decipher. It’s a photo. A pair of my panties. White ones, and they’re lying against the dark maroon comforter of our bed.

“Oh, that’s just not right,” Charlotte wails, leaning over to be nosy.

I cradle the phone into my chest to hide it. “You shouldn’t be so nosy. You’re bound to see something you shouldn’t when you snoop.”

“You’re always sending weird ass pictures back and forth. What do they mean?” she asks, opening the passenger side door.

She climbs in, and I follow.

“Sometimes they mean nothing at all and it’s just to confuse the other person. Other times they mean everything.”

“How are you supposed to know which is which?” she asks.

I hear the accusation in her voice. We’re playing a game no one else knows the rules to.

I shrug and pull into traffic. “Most of the time we just know.”

“That selfie you sent on your very first date with him. Did it mean something or nothing?”

Okay, scratch that, now I hear accusation in her voice.

“Uh. That was something all right. I’m not sure what it meant, though.”

She scoffs. “You had sex with him that night, didn’t you?”

I laugh. “No. When? In the parking lot? You guys were at my house like little nannies!”

“I know you lied about something, Teala. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

This whole thing started with a stupid lie—a bet. It makes sense it should end with a final truth. “It started as a game, or so we thought. Play by your stupid dating rules and see what happens and then go to Vegas.”

“But?”

I shake my head, the smile falling from my face. “It was never a game, I don’t think. Even when we were hashing out the details of the stupid bet, I wanted him more than I had any right. He wanted something more significant, too. It was the perfect storm, I guess you could say. We both started the relationship on the same foundation and it grew on its own. We did wait until the proper amount of time to pass before we shagged it out—we followed your goofy guidelines. You should know that. Also, we paid for Vegas, too.” I shake a finger in her direction. “You can’t accuse me of cheating or lying.”

“I’m beginning to think normal rules are goofy. I might need to go serial for a while and see if that lands Mr. Right. You paying for Vegas is what made me suspicious. You’re never one to lose a damn bet,” Charlotte says, shaking her head.

I watch her in my peripheral vision as she thinks back to the beginning.

“I knew something wasn’t right. You were too perfect for each other.”

It’s insane that other people say this, but there must be some truth to it due to how much we’re told something similar. “Perfect is a strong word, Charlotte,” I say.

“And yet you’ve attained the pinnacle. I hope you’ll finally accept his love and run with it. You put up with a lot of bullshit to land this man.”

We pull into her drive. “It wasn’t bullshit.”

“It was and you know it. The men and the dates and the avoidance. We all saw it, Teala. It’s why we plied you with Vegas and trying something different to begin with. Look what happens when you listen to your friends!”

I take this moment to remind her how utterly annoying my friends are when they crash dates and act like teenagers.

“That’s part of the Teala package. Have a good weekend,” Charlotte drawls as she opens her door. She smiles in my face before she walks up to her door and I’m left wondering what the fuck her issue is.

I send Macs a photo of my ear and start for home.

No one else is here when I pull in and I’m surprised his friends aren’t in the yard, half clothed, and fully drunk. Macs is always doing one project or another, so the house always smells of sawdust or some type of building material. I open the door, and he’s waiting for me.

****

Macs has me pinned with his gaze. I drop one of the boxes I collected from my apartment on top of the bed next to the pair of white panties. He’s breathing heavy as he eyes me up and down like a panther stalking prey. You’d think I was naked, asking for him to bend me over and fuck me nasty for the way he’s looking at me.

“I missed you,” he says, walking into the room. With one hand, and more skilled ease than he should posses, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. They fall to the floor and he steps out of them.

“Oh, come on. Were you watching Magic Mike again? That move isn’t even fair. If I tried that I would have fallen on my face with my ass in the air.”

Macs narrows his eyes. “Ass in the air. I like that.”

His cock is hard. It’s standing at attention, barely bobbing as he moves. If we had sex twice daily I think I’d still be able to get him hard by smiling. It’s why we work so well together. Our sexual appetites are similar. I slide my sweater off my shoulders. He stalks forward another step.

Turning, I pull a butter knife from the box of random forgotten things from my apartment. I pick up my white underwear with the tip of the blade. Raising them in the air, I say, “I’m waving the white flag. You win. You win! This is me surrendering to your obvious lusty desires! White panties at the end of a butter knife.”

Macs grins as he takes the butter knife out of my hand and sets it back in the box.

“I’m yours now. You don’t have to work this hard,” I tease. “I want to fuck you basically anytime you want.”

“You’re mine now? Just now?” He cocks his head in question and the muscles in his shoulders and neck bunch.

I swallow. “Yes.” I lean forward and trace his bone frog tattoo with the tip of my tongue. He shudders under the sensation. I smile.

“Here’s the thing,” Macs says, taking my waist in his hand. “You’ve always been mine. Since that first day I saw you. Argue if you must, but know I laid my claim on day one.”

Arguing would be moot at this point. I want to be his. I grab his steel shaft and relish when he groans at my touch. Dropping to my knees, I put him in my mouth.

“Not too long. I’d really rather fuck you, but ah,” he chokes out. “It feels too good,” he groans. He’s warm in my mouth and his flavor is a blow directly to my core. That’s all it takes. The chemistry of us is simple and maddening. I slide him to the back of my throat, while keeping my gaze on his face. His eyelids flutter shut when I tease his balls in between my fingers. “Enough. Get on the bed,” he commands.

It’s a weak command, but I want him inside me, so I don’t fight him.

I’m out of my clothes and sliding back on the large bed in seconds. He grabs me by the foot to stop me from moving any further. He leans down and kisses the inside of my calf, under my knee, the inside of my thigh, and then exactly where I’m telling his mouth to go. My voice is throaty and on edge as I give him orders and tell him where to touch.

“That feels good. Do that,” I say.

Macs chuckles, and the vibrations set my teeth on edge. “Like that,” he asks, leaning up from his furious licking. Pushing his head back down, I let out a stream of curse words that cause him to laugh even more.

His hands are tight around my legs, controlling every tiny movement. The rough sensation of his scruff wars with the smooth gliding of his tongue and fingers, and I tell him I’m going to come if he keeps the pace up much longer. He knows my tells and right when I’m about to come he slides up between my legs and drives his cock deep inside me.

He grunts and groans and tells me he wants to live here—just like this. He starts moving eventually because the sensations are too deep and I’m writhing against him to get the friction I need. His lips are on my neck and my hands are twining in his hair. Everywhere his skin meets mine feels like electric, the greatest high in the world.

“You’re mine,” Macs growls in my ear as he bites the edge.

I moan in response, locking my legs around him at the same time. Skin slaps and limbs tangle. I come fast and hard, pulling his ass to me to keep him in as deep as he can go.

He leans his forehead on my shoulder and waits for me to finish before he slams into me several more times. “Where? Where do you want it?” His breaths are fierce as he demands fast answers.

“Come here,” I say, closing my eyes and rubbing my nipples. I tilt my head back in case his aim misses.

Macs pulls out and comes on my small, rounded stomach. He apologizes for missing and slides down to kiss the side of my belly.

“Who are you apologizing to? Surely not the baby,” I say, breathing out in a rush of adrenaline. “I said tits and you missed. What kind of comer are you?”

He laughs. “Well, I didn’t mean to rain on his parade either,” he explains, pointing to my wet belly button.

“He lives in wetness, Macs. A little rain wouldn’t kill him even if you did want to come inside me every once in a while. You used to enjoy that, remember?”

It’s the ongoing joke now that I’m pregnant, he refuses to blast the baby with semen. I understand his issue even if it makes zero logical sense.

Macs raises his eyebrows. “God, do I ever like coming inside this tight pussy,” he growls, jutting inside me to drive his point home.

I sigh in pleasure, every nerve ending heightened by hormones.

“You’re both mine,” he says, kissing my neck.

“We are.”

Nothing has ever made me this happy. “And you’re ours.”

“Good. Get dressed. I have to show you something right now,” Macs says, leaning off me and hopping to the foot of the bed like a small child. “I’m serious. I even need to use the blindfold.”