Doubly lucky, it would seem.

WHAT IS THAT? I contemplate as I stare at an abstract piece of art. I see swirls and patterns, but mostly it just looks like a two-year-old made it. I check the price tag and grimace. $1500? Sheesh. What a rip-off.

Quinn and I are at the open house at Art Redefined. She had to take care of something in the back, so I’m wandering the gallery, champagne glass in hand. Jazz music plays in the background and servers circle the room with trays full of fancy finger food and cocktails.

The art on display is an eclectic mix of different styles and different media. I can pick Quinn’s pieces out from all the rest, my eye in tune with her style. Now that I’ve watched her work so many times, seeing her pieces makes me think of what she looks like when she’s painting.

A sculpture in the center of the room catches my eye. Wow. It’s a tree with different branches intertwining together and breaking off into smaller ones. It’s large and imposing, probably twice as tall as I am. As I get closer, I notice all the detail carved into it. It’s impressive, so much so that my fingers itch for my camera to capture its beauty. I check out the tag and find the name Tobias Renolds. My eyebrows rise in surprise. I knew Tobias sold pieces here, too, but I had completely forgotten until this very moment.

“What do you think?” a deep voice rumbles beside me. Speak of the devil. I turn to find Tobias in a sharp navy blue suit, cocktail in hand.

“It’s amazing,” I tell him honestly.

His green eyes take me in. “This old thing.” He smirks.

“How long did it take you?”

“Six months.”

“Holy shit.” My response is louder than I wanted it to be, causing a couple people to turn around and look at me. I hold up my hand in apology.

Tobias chuckles. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

I tug at the collar of my dress shirt. “I’m not a shirt-and-tie kind of guy.”

“Me either,” he agrees. We stand in comfortable silence, assessing the crowd. My family should be here any minute. When Quinn told Suzanne I was coming with her, she gave us a few extra tickets. Feeling poorly about my last conversation with my mom, I thought this might be a nice olive branch.

“So you and Quinn?” He raises his eyebrows in question.

I smile and nod. “Me and Quinn.”

“I knew it,” he says, eyes twinkling at me, lips smiling. “She kept trying to tell me there was nothing more between you guys, but I could feel it. Even when I was inside her that night, I could tell she was yours.”

“We both tried to fight it, but after that night, I didn’t want to stop it from happening anymore. It just feels, right. I feel like she gets me, and I get her.” I shrug, not quite sure why I’m explaining this to Tobias.

“I’m happy for you guys, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

“Why’s that?”

“Completely selfish reasons, of course. That night gave me a lot of material to jerk off to.”

I chuckle. “Me too,” I admit. “It was a lot of fun.” I choose not to tell him that Quinn and I still partake in threesomes. Not because I don’t want to have a repeat of that first night with Tobias, but because I want it to be up to Quinn. If she wants to invite him to play with us again, I’d love it, but not if she doesn’t want it too. It’s like my desire is directly proportional to hers.

He flashes me a wolfish grin, showing me his straight, white teeth. “It most definitely was. You’re a lucky man.”

“I am.” I still can’t believe I get to call her mine.

“There you are, sorry it took me so long.” Quinn’s arms wrap around my waist from behind, then I pull her to my side, admiring the view of her all dressed up in an emerald green dress. The shiny satin fabric reflects the light and contrasts beautifully with her pale skin and red hair. The back is my favorite, as there isn’t much to it, plunging down to her lower back, putting her beautiful skin on display. I can’t stop touching her, laying a hand on her bare back.

“Hey Quinn.” Tobias nods to her.

“Tobias.” She smiles at him with a nod of her own.

My mind flashes back to that night, to Tobias pounding into her while she sucked my cock, and now we’re just standing here, talking like causal friends. I look for a trace of awkwardness, but all I find is arousal.

Quinn turns to me. “Did you see this piece?” She nods to the tree we’re standing in front of.

“Kind of hard to miss,” I joke.

“It’s Tobias’s show-off piece. I mean, seriously? Do you have to be so talented?” she complains.

“Oh fuck off. You have more pieces in here than any other artist. When do you find the time to make all of them?” he asks her.

“Well, when you don’t spend six months of your life dedicated to only one piece, you have the time to make more.” She chuckles. “Hey, did Charlie tell you about his pieces?”

Surprised green eyes meet mine. “You paint?”

I grimace, uncomfortable with the attention. “No, not really. Quinn just convinced me to try it. I’m sure they’ll end up in the garbage at the end of the night.”

“Ha! Have you talked to Suzanne yet?” Quinn smiles up at me knowingly.

“No.”

“There seems to be a bit of a bidding war going on with your work.”

“What? I don’t believe you.” No way does anyone want my art, let alone more than one person. “You must be mistaken.”

She beams up at me. “I’m not. I told you they would sell. Let’s go talk to her, she’s dying to meet you.” She tugs on my hand, pulling me behind her. I wave to Tobias and reluctantly follow Quinn. We stop next to a pretty woman with an asymmetric haircut, bold makeup, and chunky jewelry.

“Suzanne, this is Charlie.”

“Hey there, Charlie!” She holds out her hand and shakes mine vigorously.

“Nice to meet you, Suzanne.”

“I’m so excited you decided to come tonight. Your pieces are garnering the most attention of any new artist on display.”

I laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, maybe you’ll believe me when I pay you. Speaking of which, I need you to fill out a form with your bank information before you go.”

“No problem.”

“Now, tell me you’ll make more.” She bats her eyelashes, smiling wide.

“Honestly, I’m not much of a painter. My passion is photography. I don’t see any photographs for sale here, though.”

She taps her finger against her lip. “The owner isn’t crazy about photography, but I’ve been trying to convince him otherwise. Why don’t you email me five of your favorite images and I’ll matte them, frame them, and put them on display at our next open house? We can test the waters with our customers, see if they sell.”

“That I can do.”

“Excellent.” She beams at me. “I have to go greet some more guests, but don’t forget to stop and see me about that paperwork before you go.”

“Okay.”

“That went well.” I smile down at Quinn. “I never thought of selling photography outside of my job.”

“Suzanne is wonderful to work with. I have a great feeling about this.”

I think of the pictures I took of her while she was painting in her studio, and an idea forms in the back of my mind; I’ll have to talk with Suzanne about it later. “Me too.” I pull her in close, smoothing my hands down her back again, breathing her in.

“Charles, is that you?” I hear my mom’s voice ring out. Quinn tries to move away, but I hold on tight, keeping her at my side. This could either go really well or really poorly. I take a deep breath for fortification and Quinn squeezes my hand.

“Hi Mom, Dad.” I nod to my parents. “You remember Quinn.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for the tickets, Quinn.” My mom smiles stiffly at us.

“You’re welcome. My boss, Suzanne, may approach you about becoming members, just be warned. She’s quite the saleswoman,” Quinn says, folding her hands together awkwardly.

“Have you had a chance to look around?” I ask them.

“No, we just got here,” my dad tells us.

“I’m going to go look for Patricia.” My mom excuses herself.

“Dom and Tabby are on their way.”

“I’m glad they’re coming, too.”

My dad stares at me a beat, hesitating. Quinn must be able to tell because she excuses herself, stating that she needs to check on something.

I stare back at my dad, waiting for him to rip into me.

“Your mother told me about your conversation.”

I nod and look away. “Figured she would.”

“Well I just want to say that I’m sorry.”

What? I look at him in surprise. “Come again?”

“I’m sorry you feel like we’re disappointed in you, Charlie. I admit that I wished you would’ve become a lawyer when you were younger, but I’m happy you’re doing something that makes you happy. I just don’t know how to talk about much else.”

Shock fills me—and doubt.

“I know I’ve done a poor job of showing you, but hearing the way you feel…it made me realize what a bad father I’ve been.”

I clench my jaw. “You and Mom haven’t been very inclusive.”

“Valid point. Duly noted.” He still sounds like a lawyer, but I guess it’s because he is a lawyer. “Will you give me a chance to do better?”

My face heats and my mouth gapes, unsure how to respond. Maybe I could say it’s too little too late, tell him to fuck off, tell him he has been a bad father by always making me feel like I was never good enough.

But what good would that do? Staring into his blue eyes, so much like my own, I see sincerity and regret.

“I’d like that, but I want to make this clear: Quinn is important to me. Please tell Mom to treat her with respect.”

His eyes widen and he nods slowly, knowing I’ve never told him a woman is important to me—not since Anna anyway. “She suits you, I think.”

This makes me smile. “She does.”

 

“BABE, YOU READY YET?” Charlie shouts from the living room. Max and Monica’s bridal shower is today, but instead of having an elaborate fancy affair at a party center, we turned it into an informal cookout at my place. Oh, and men are invited, too.

“Be right out!” I holler back at him. Everyone is due to arrive in 20 minutes and I still need to set out the appetizers and drinks on the bar. I stare at my reflection, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything major. Sundress on with strapless bra—check. Teeth brushed, makeup on, hair wrangled into a somewhat presentable style—check, check, check.

Then I meet my eyes and take a deep breath. This is a happy day. Monica is my best friend, and I’m beyond thrilled that she found Max. I will not think of my own bridal shower. No. I don’t know why it lingers in the back of my mind, anyway. I’m happy I divorced that cheating prick, and I’m happy with Charlie.

Really happy, like start-daydreaming-in-the-middle-of-getting-food-out-of-the-refrigerator kind of happy.

He gets me. He makes me feel more alive and desired and cherished than I ever have before, and things are still going strong two months in. We practically live together at this point, always ending up at each other’s place every night, and I’ve had more orgasms in the last two months than most people have in their lifetime.

So, I’m not jealous or upset that my friend is getting married. I’m not.

I’m just…a bit nostalgic, I guess. Monica was my maid of honor and threw me a bridal shower, and it’s hard not to think about it when I’m now doing the same for her.

I square my shoulders, stick out my chest, lift my chin, and tell myself, “You got this. You are going to have fun and not think about that asswipe for one more second.”

“Who are you talking to, Red?” Charlie opens the door and pokes his head inside the bathroom.

I laugh, caught off guard. “No one.”

“I heard something.” He studies my face with a small smile. “You okay?” He wraps his arms around me and I lean my head against his chest, absorbing his strength.

“I’m perfect,” I tell him.

“You definitely look perfect. I like this dress, is it new?” He steps back so he can ogle me properly. It’s electric blue with straps that crisscross down my back, fun and flirty, and it reminds me of Tallah’s belly dancing costume.

“Yeah, I just picked it up. Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” A simple black polo and khakis shouldn’t look so good, but they mold to his body in all the right places.

“I have an excellent idea.” He grins that panty-dropping smile, his dimples popping. I touch his face, tracing along his dimples with my fingers.

“What’s that?”

“I think we should have a quickie.” He says it in all seriousness, hands sweeping down my back to cup my ass.

“Charlie, everyone will be here in 20 minutes!”

“Hence the term quickie. I can make you come in five.” He isn’t lying about that.

“And I still have to set up the bar with the appetizers and drinks.”

“I already did.” His hands smooth down my legs and pull the fabric of my dress up and over my ass.

“You did?”

He nods, pushing his pelvis into me, letting me feel how hard he is already.

“Thank you.”

He smiles. “You’re welcome.” He kisses my nose then my lips, hands roaming all over my backside.

I waiver, knowing I need to push him away. We are hosting a party for crying out loud. We can’t have sex right now.

He sees me hesitate and slips his hands underneath my underwear, grabbing my ass and pulling my cheeks apart. “You don’t even have to get undressed, just let me bend you over this counter and fuck you. I’m so hard, I’ll come in two minutes.”

“How enticing.” He moves my underwear to the side and pinches my clit, causing me to gasp.

“Quinn.” He grabs my hand and places it on his crotch—his erection is rock hard. I squeeze it, feeling myself get wet and achy.

“Yes,” I say on an exhale.

“Bend over and let me fuck you.” He says this sentence slowly, enunciating every word with his deep voice, so full of desire.

His bossy command makes my pussy clench with need.

So, I turn away from him, meet his gaze in the mirror, and bend over, pushing my ass into his pelvis.

His eyes glitter with need. “Good girl.”

The party is in full swing. It’s a relatively small crowd, 30 of Monica and Max’s closest friends and family. I see Monica swaying to the music in the background as she talks to Max’s mom, a smile plastered on her face. The food is almost gone—a good sign in my book—and everyone loved Tate’s cake. Charlie, Logan, and Max are sitting at the bar in the kitchen, sipping beers and laughing about something.

I call this a success.

Smiling to myself, I begin to tidy up, collecting empty plastic cups and paper plates. I refill the ice bucket and put out a fresh bowl of chips.

“Can we have everyone’s attention for a moment?” Max calls out. I turn to find Max and Monica standing side by side in front of the living room, arms wrapped around each other. Charlie comes to stand beside me, holding me into his side like he usually does. I melt into him, grateful for all of his help today. It feels like we did this as a couple.

Everyone quiets down, giving Max their attention.

“We’re so grateful that you’re all here to celebrate with us. I love Monica so very much, and I can’t wait to marry her next month.” He leans down to kiss her lips softly, and she beams up at him. Everyone ooohs and aaahs. They stare at each other for a moment, as if communicating some message, and Monica nods once.

“I’m a lucky man. Doubly lucky, it would seem.” He smiles at everyone, happiness radiating off of him like the sun. “Because not only has this amazing woman agreed to be my wife, but she’s also going to be the mother of my child.”

I freeze. Did he just…? Does he mean someday? Or is—?

Everyone goes quiet, trying to figure out if he’s saying what we think he’s saying.

Monica laughs. “You guys! I’m pregnant!”

Cheers erupt all around us and everyone approaches them to give hugs and kisses of congratulations—everyone except for me and Charlie. We stay frozen.

I turn to Charlie to gauge his reaction to this news. He’s staring at Max and Monica, wide-eyed and unblinking. He’s white as a sheet and sweat has popped out on his forehead and upper lip.

I swallow down my own reaction to this news and focus on him. “Charlie, you okay?” I ask him quietly.

He blinks slowly then rapidly, as if he just zoned out then came back to the present.

“Charlie.” I reach up to touch his face and he looks down at me.

“You okay?”

Nodding a little too quickly, he says, “Yes. I’m fine.” His words are hollow and he looks like he might puke.

“Come outside with me for a second.”

He hesitates. “We have to go say something to them.”

“We will, but let’s just get some fresh air for five minutes. They won’t even notice we’re gone.” I nod to indicate the line of people waiting to hug the happy couple.

He nods and follows me outside to the back deck. I guide him into a seat and he tugs me down so I’m sitting on his lap sideways. My fingers tangle in his hair as he buries his head in my chest and wraps his arms around me. I hold him, heart aching for what he must be feeling. Heart aching for what I’m feeling.

We stay entwined for a few minutes, just breathing together, processing this news. Monica and Max are having a baby. It’s happy news. They were radiating joy. Despite the likelihood that this was an unplanned pregnancy, they’re embracing the news and clearly want to start a family together.

But for those of us who have lost a baby, hearing about someone else’s joy can be a painful reminder of the past. My eyes burn with unshed tears and I fight them back, willing them to go away, to just wait until later.

“Hey.” I rub Charlie’s scalp, nudging him to look up at me.

He slowly raises his head and meets my gaze. His gorgeous blue eyes are swimming in sorrow and regret. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, and attempts to school his features, but I can see right through him. He’s lost to the ghosts of his past.

“I don’t know why I’m…”

“It’s okay to be upset, Charlie.”

He shakes his head. “But, I’m happy for Max. He’s going to be a great dad.” His voice breaks on the last word. Chin quivering, he bites his upper lip and takes a deep breath, fighting his emotions.

“They’re going to be great parents,” I agree.

Tears well in his eyes. “I just can’t help but wonder what kind of dad I would have been.” His voice is like gravel, like there is an actual lump in his throat preventing the words from coming out. When he blinks, two fat tears drop onto his cheeks. I follow their path down his face.

My heart squeezes with emotion, and my tears fall, too.

I stare at him. “You would’ve been amazing,” I tell him.

He looks away, wiping his face. “Maybe,” he mutters.

I pull his face up, forcing him to meet my eyes again. “Charlie Nelson, you listen to me: you are a good man. You would have been the best dad you could be, and this right here”—I motion between us and the house—“it’s normal to be upset. It doesn’t mean you aren’t happy for your friend. I have no doubt you will be there to support Max when he needs it.”

He nods slowly, gaze locked on mine.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

I smile softly at him. “You make it easy.”

His expression softens, morphing into one of affection.

My heart squeezes yet again, but this time it isn’t in pain. This time, it’s with love.

I’m in love with Charlie Nelson.

He studies my face, and I’m afraid he can see it, my love, as if I wrote it across my forehead. I don’t know how to cover it up.

“I love you, Quinn Fitzpatrick.”

My heart stops, then gallops into overdrive. My mouth gapes open, unable to contain my surprise. I try to talk, to form a coherent response. I love you too is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m flabbergasted.

“I know you love me, too. Don’t try to deny it.” He smiles, and some of his magnetic charisma colors his expression. It’s exactly what I need to stop holding my breath and get my vocal chords working again.

“You’re pretty full of yourself,” I huff.

“I am,” he says confidently. His smile is slow but sure, and it reaches his eyes, chasing the sadness away. The dimples grace me with an appearance. “You make me want to be a better man. I hope one day, in the future, I might get a second chance.” He stares at me with hope.

Ice seeps into my veins and dread sinks in my stomach like a brick.

“A second chance?” I croak.

He smiles a self-deprecating smile. “I know I’m doing this all wrong. I’ve just had a bit of a mental breakdown then told you I love you. I’m going to stop while I’m ahead.”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of me.

“You ready to go back in?” he asks.

“Sure, let’s go.”

I take the short walk back inside to compose myself. The sadness, the pain, the guilt, the regret—I push all those feelings into a box and pack that box tight. I envision sealing it with staples and tape. Then I put the box in a garbage can. I have to get rid of my emotions to make it through the rest of this party. I have a house full of happy people and I will not ruin Monica’s bridal shower. That isn’t the kind of thing someone forgets, not even when you’re on the verge of breaking down.

I just found out the man I’m in love with loves me, too.

I should be elated, but I’m not.

Because I also just found out the man I love wants to have children. He wants a second chance. And I can’t give that to him.