Chapter One
(Flashback: Leila)
I stared at the cardboard boxes stacked on my bathroom sink like I was staring into a black hole.
I replayed the past hour in my mind. The walk of shame to the aisle. Taking stock of my surroundings, making sure no one spotted me as I rounded up my purchase. The cashier’s alarm had morphed into pity as she scanned the boxes, each one holding a pregnancy test. I’d joked that I’d rather be safe than sorry. She didn’t even crack a grin, her eyes flitting between judgment and sympathy.
I wasn’t laughing now.
In fact, I was dangerously close to bawling my eyes out.
If you looked up ‘girly’, my picture wouldn’t be beside the definition. I shied away from pink. I’d always preferred GI Joe and monster trucks to Barbies growing up. And to my mother’s grave disappointment, I was more comfortable in Converse than a pair of heels.
Despite all that, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a mental list of baby names. Names like Scarlet if it was a girl, and Rafe if it was a boy. Cursive scribbles in the margin of my notebook, dreaming about the day I’d find someone to sit up in a tree with. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.
You skipped right past the marriage part to the baby carriage, I thought glumly.
I eyeballed the boxes that lined the countertop.
Like building blocks.
Like the end of all my dreams—and the start of something else.
I gingerly picked up the first, tearing it open. The ripping sound was magnified in the silence like I had a mic, up on stage, with all eyes on me. I knew I was home alone, but it was a tiny blessing that didn’t quell my paranoia.
I turned on the faucet and blasted some random song on my phone, just in case. Trying to not picture the shock and shame on my parent’s faces when I told them I was pregnant.
My hands still rattled so hard I almost dropped the slender test on the ground.
To be honest, I had bigger things to worry about than my parent’s disappointment. Other concerns to make me tremble besides the fact that college would have to wait.
My free hand shot to my belly, the knots doubling. Tripling.
If you’re pregnant, there’s a very real chance you’ll be raising this baby alone.
Case in point: Corbin’s flirtatious antics were dialed up to a fever pitch lately. He didn’t show any sign of guilt or remorse anymore when he ignored me in favor of making some other girl blush. The last date we had was cut short when the waitress offered him her number. He accepted the napkin with me sitting right across from him.
New dress, new makeup, new internal pep talk from yours truly (he’s hot, this is the price of dating a hot guy)...all of it went to waste. I told him to ask her for a ride home and left his ass in the restaurant.
That would have been the end we deserved.
But then he apologized, with flowers and a song he wrote just for me.
I’d wavered, losing my nerve to end things. And shortly after that, I missed my period.
I skimmed the instructions. I had options. I could pee on it directly or I could pee in a cup, then test.
Since I couldn’t stop shaking long enough not to drop the whole test in the toilet, I decided to go with the latter. I picked up a spare cup and rinsed it. Dried it. Made sure there wasn’t a single drop of liquid in the cup.
I inhaled and exhaled, the gallon of water I drank before this more than ready to be unleashed. I did my thing, carefully putting it aside and preparing the stick. I positioned the absorbent tip in the cup for twenty seconds like I was holding something fragile. When I was done, I put it on the countertop and set the timer. I didn’t even bother putting the cap on.
I dropped on the toilet, staring straight ahead at the yellowing, flower covered wallpaper. Trying to comfort myself, since Corbin hadn’t offered any support at all. No offer to drive me to the pharmacy. To be there in person, or via Skype or text. In fact, the only thing he said when I told him I might be pregnant was, ‘I’ve gotta go’.
The tears I’d been fighting all morning spilled down my cheeks, but I stayed strong. I didn’t count the seconds. I didn’t give in to despair. I tried to stay optimistic. Count my blessings. My mother wouldn’t really kill me, especially if her grandbaby was growing inside me. Maybe I could take night classes. Take on more hours at the coffee shop. My manager had already planted seeds about becoming a shift lead and I-
The alarm cut through my mental ramblings, snatching me back down to Earth.
It was time.
Heart in my throat, I squeezed my eyes shut as I reached for the test. I did a mental count and when I hit one, I opened my eyes.
Panic flooded me when I saw two lines, lurching back to the counter to retrieve the instructions.
Please, God...please!
My eyes drifted to the section on interpreting the results. A cross and a line meant pregnancy.
Fingers trembling, I picked up the stick.
Two lines.
Two lines...
“I’m not pregnant!” I shrieked, leaping to my feet. I did a happy dance that was the most awkward and jubilant two step that anyone had ever seen, then I patiently administered all the other tests, too.
Not pregnant.
Not pregnant.
Not pregnant!
By the time I was done, I was laid out on the floor, crying tears of happiness. Now that I knew my life wasn’t changed forever, I couldn’t shy away from the realization that I still had a problem.
There was a reason I was alone right now. Not having champagne with my boyfriend when I shared the news that we weren’t gonna be parents.
I couldn’t ignore the voice that whispered, Thank God.
Thank God I wasn’t bringing a child into this world with a man I didn’t love.
*
“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING.”
The tiny voice came out like a croak. A death knell, because that bloody word was screaming up at me. Ripping the lid from a box I’d stuffed in my mental closet. Deep, way back in the shadows with the dust bunnies and the Boogeyman. I had no other choice. There was no way I could carry those memories around with me...or they would eat me alive.
It was hard enough seeing Corbin’s face. Hearing his voice. Remembering how I thought I was falling madly in love those first weeks. The cold reality when I realized that something wasn’t right. Scrambling for scraps, so desperate to make something out of nothing. Keeping the memories at bay because the past was brutal, but the present was more beautiful than anything I could have ever imagined.
Jacob.
Hope.
But the best things that ever happened to me were no match for that word. A word made of nightmares.
Miscarriage.
How many times had I dreamt the worst and awoke, drenched in sweat, clutching my belly?
My monsters were real, with names like Eichmann. Dressed in scrubs. Holding a knife against my flesh. The only thing that went right in my life was meeting Jacob, but fate still thought it was a good idea to show me just how things could go wrong.
Miscarriage was the secret fear I carried around until Hope first snuggled up to my breast.
Miscarriage was something that had nothing to do with me and Corbin freaking Wolfe.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Jacob’s cold blooded declaration was enough to rip me from that word. From the past. The present was terrifying enough, especially if the whole world thought I had some devastating connection with America’s new favorite rock star.
The homicidal urges flashing in Jacob’s cerulean eyes were more than a threat—it was a promise. I had no doubt that if Corbin strolled into the room at this very moment, it would take more strength than I had at my disposal to hold him back. To stop him from tearing Corbin apart with his bare hands.
I gathered myself, inhaling and exhaling as normally as I could manage so I wouldn’t start hyperventilating. From the angry, erratic rise and fall of my husband’s shoulders, he was doing enough hyperventilating for us both.
I distracted myself by taking stock of Jacob, coming up with a mental OOTD post so I wouldn’t think about Corbin and this fresh disaster.
Risk was a special occasion, with Bash betting Jacob that he’d never wear a pair of jeans in public. It was a good wager since I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Jacob in denim. For the flight, Hope and I were dressed down, but Jacob picked up our slack. His toned frame looked delicious in a charcoal colored button down and ebony slacks. Before I looked him in the eye, I would have said he belonged in some men’s fashion spread, broadcasting an impossible ideal for mere mortals to aspire to. But his face...his face made me take a moment. Find some courage before I went back to him.
I put the phone aside, reaching for the love of my life.
With my words. With my heart. With everything I had.
“In my current state of mind, Corbin Wolfe being wiped from the face of the Earth is a very appealing thing—but I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. This whole thing could be a mix up.”
The fury that engulfed his face waned slightly. He snatched the phone from the bed, holding it up like it was the torch that would turn Corbin to ash.
Which means you’re probably next...
“This doesn’t read like a man who’s mixed up.” His eyes dropped to the screen, his voice ragged as he pulled quotes to support his desire to off Corbin. “‘That’s when I knew that I’d lost something precious, and I’m not talking about Leila, the-’” Jacob stopped, nostrils flaring, face contorted with disgust as he choked on a word that was ours. “‘Love of my life. I knew we lost the baby’.”
He must have decided I had the right idea, because he hurled the phone back to where I’d left it, tangled up in the sheets. Face down. Obscured by the covers. “That this man, this asshole would use the word ‘love’ and ‘Leila’ in the same breath...” He trailed off, clenching and unclenching his fists.
He had that look that I’d seen once before. I’d decided to surprise Jacob during one of his training sessions one afternoon. Watching him pummel a punching bag had me sweating and getting all kinds of wet from the sidelines, until I caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. I saw raw, unadulterated anger, like he was picturing someone’s face in the nylon. His father’s face. Cole’s face. I’d snuck to the bathroom when I couldn’t take anymore, splashing water on my face. That intensity, the hatred—it scared me. He’d pounded the bag like he didn’t want to stop until he saw blood. Until he felt bone.
As frustrated as I was by my ex’s insistence on keeping us at the top of the trending topics, I didn’t want him in Jacob’s crosshairs. And I certainly didn’t want my husband to think that after everything we’d been through (and my recent vocalized concern that he was keeping secrets), I was keeping secrets from him.
I gingerly looked back in his direction, surprised he hadn’t informed me that he and Hope would be making this trip alone. Dropping the bombshell that when they got back, he and I would need to have a serious conversation. A conversation that would involve lawyers. Jacob could forgive a lot, but this betrayal would gut him.
But he wasn’t glaring at me like he wished he never met me at all. Like I was a hypocrite, unworthy of a moment of his time. In fact, he hadn’t asked nor demanded to know if it was true. If Corbin and I had some lost connection, some heartbreak that would bind us together forever.
I dropped onto the bed, my heart racing. Deciding that I’d step right into the line of fire. “You’re not mad at me? Not worried that I was pregnant before and lost the baby and didn’t tell you about it?”
Jacob flicked his eyes to me, his anger traded for confusion. “Angry at you?” He scanned my face slowly, then scrubbed his hands over his own with a groan. I was still wincing at him, like I was waiting for something to go boom. Maybe he was in shock. Some sort of delayed reaction. I was about to feel the full brunt of his anger. His ‘I’m sick of your bullshit’ look would tell me that the truth was irrelevant.
When he joined me on the bed, taking my hand in his, I realized my worries were irrelevant.
“Lay, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I am not angry at you. If you had a miscarriage when you were 18, terrified and alone because the man you cared about wasn’t such a man after all...” He shook his head with disgust, taking a breath before he reached for me. He brought my hand to his mouth, his fingers whispering across my knuckles. “Baby, I won’t ever be able to understand that kind of loss. And how alone you must have felt. How could I be angry at you? I love you.” He gazed deep into my eyes. Into my soul. “I can’t do anything about the past, but I can promise you this—you don’t have to carry any secrets, any hurts alone anymore. I’m your husband. Your partner. And I’ve got your back.”
I thought I was doing a good job of holding it together, but the levy broke when I exhaled and realized I was surrounded, consumed by love.
I sobbed, clinging to him, but these weren’t tears of sorrow that streamed down my face. I had never loved Jacob more than I did in that moment.
Love was forgiveness. He had my back, through thick and thin.
I still needed him to know the truth, not the gossip bullshit that was lighting up the entertainment blogs and social media. “I know you want to off Corbin because you think he abandoned me when I had a miscarriage-”
“He’s a small, insignificant man,” Jacob interrupted gently, but there was an edge to his voice. Eyes darkening with mal intent. “In fact, one of the words I just said is not like the other. Calling him a man is an insult to men all over. But that’s not the meat of why I’m furious. Not only did he abandon you when you needed him the most, but he chose to share something so heartbreaking and personal with some blogger who could ultimately care less. Then the bastard has the nerve to call you the love of his life. He wouldn’t know love if it bit him in the-”
I kissed him.
Hard.
Used my mouth to show him just how much he meant to me. How lucky I was that our paths crossed.
I kissed him like it was the last kiss we’d ever share.
I savored his taste, his scent before I ended it, lingering because I needed to bring him up to speed.
I needed to tell him the truth.
“I agree with you on all counts in the Corbin department.” I bit my bottom lip. “But there’s a key part of this that I want you to understand: there was no miscarriage.”
*
THE ROOM WAS SO QUIET you could hear a pin drop.
I counted every step of the way in Jacob’s eyes as he digested what I said. He was left with a single, obvious question.
“What happened?”
I let his question hang in the air, not even bothering to text the driver that we’d be late. Nicholas was behind the wheel tonight and as soon as he saw that I was tagging along (the queen of tardiness when it came to travel), he probably knew to add an extra fifteen to twenty minute wait time.
I was hoping the entire fifteen minutes wouldn’t be spent being dragged down Memory Lane, but I wasn’t foolish enough to drop that bomb and expect a quick exit. Even if that was the Cliff Notes version of things, I knew my husband had no intention of skimming through this passage. Not when it came to me, my ex, and the M word.
I returned to the bed, plopping in the general vicinity of the phone that brought us to this place. I managed to not twitch, grit my teeth, or minimize the gravity of my statement.
The minute I got the guts to look Jacob in the eye, I realized I was missing something vital. He was the light at the end of the tunnel. This was the love that I’d craved back then. A love where the man I gave my heart to stared anyone—man, woman, shamelessly flirty waitress, you name it—like he dared them to try it. That he’d slay dragons and whatever else monstrous things lurked in the shadows. His arms weren’t around me, but they might as well have been. It took seeing that word in bloody letters, facing the ugly resentment that I buried deep, to remind me that I never had to be alone again.
“If I’m being 100% honest, I always knew Corbin and I were a disaster. Back then, I would have said he was out of my league. That a guy like that had no business with somebody like me-”
“Somebody like you?” Jacob pivoted toward me, his eyes narrowed like he was ready to step up and defend my honor. “Someone beautiful, sexy, kind-”
“Someone who hadn’t come into her own yet,” I cut in gently, clearing off a space beside me. “Someone who hadn’t met her true love.”
“Just as long as we’re clear that you were out of his league.” He eased onto the bed, letting go of the last flares of anger before he brushed my bangs behind my ears.
I nuzzled his hand, turning my head so I could plant a kiss on his palm. “Back then, I thought I was the lucky one. I spent way too long chalking up my ex’s wandering eye to ‘boys will be boys’.” I ducked my chin to my chest, shame rippling through me as I remembered how I rationalized it. Told myself it was just harmless flirting. He was just kidding around. But he turned me into a punch line.
-‘Knock, knock.
-Who’s there?
-Leila.
-Leila who?
-Leila who just grins and bears it while her boyfriend makes a fool of her.
“I reached the end of my rope finally, right around the time that I realized I’d missed my period.” I lifted my chin and saw the love, the concern, swirling in Jacob’s ocean hued eyes. “I don’t know what I was more afraid of—that the test would be positive and my whole life would change—or that it would be negative and I’d have to finally face facts: I had no business dating Corbin Wolfe. I’d have to end things.” I rearranged and took a deep, painful breath. “I wasn’t pregnant, so I decided that as soon as I was able, I’d break up with him. And it felt like the universe was telling me the time is now, or then, rather, because my parents were out of town, so I had the house to myself. So I invited him over.”
“When the parents are away...” Jacob wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I rolled my eyes with a chuckle, remembering just how unfunny that day had been. I’d lured Corbin over with promises of Stouffer’s lasagna and a quick reminder that we’d have the place to ourselves. My mother, who hated his guts from the start and made sure he knew it, would have shit a brick if she knew I’d done such a thing. Ultimately, I figured if she found out, I’d lead with the fact that I invited him over to break up with him.
Our last supper.
I didn’t even get around to serving him anything besides a one way ticket out of my life.
“He showed up, acting weird and distant from the start. I decided to just get it over with, instead of waiting until after dessert.” I sat up tall, like I had that day, shoulders squared. “I said four words: we need to talk. He said four of his own: I cheated on you.”
Jacob looked ready to step back into the ring. “That asshole.”
I nodded in agreement. “It was probably a good thing dinner wasn’t done because I would have dumped the whole pan on his head. And he had the audacity to act like he was doing me a favor.” I’d been so furious then, fighting the urge to claw his eyes out when he told me he wasn’t built for this. That commitment wasn’t his thing. That his future was sold out shows and a different woman every night of the week. So I told him to get out. That we were over and I never wanted to see or hear from him again.”
“C’mere.” Jacob pulled me to him. Pulled me into his lap and held me close. I didn’t need to be comforted, especially when I remembered that one of the last dates Corbin and I had been on, he’d pulled some chick into his lap. She was celebrating her bachelorette party and he’d claimed it was ‘all in good fun’, but I just remembered feeling invisible.
This man?
Jacob Matthew Whitmore?
I was anything but. He stroked my back, waiting for me to finish. Not saying what burned in his eyes. That it was Corbin’s loss. That I was everything to him.
He didn’t have to.
I felt it—as surely as I felt his touch when he wrapped his arms around my waist.
“So that was that,” I finished with a sigh. “The next time I saw his face was at the concert. We had a close call, but there was no miscarriage.”
Questions danced through my head. Why would he lie to the press? How would we handle our response? But all those questions went silent when Jacob tilted my chin towards him.
“I’m here for you. No matter what.”
I threw my arms around his neck, smashing my mouth against his. I put everything else on pause and lived in this moment.
His taste.
His fingers tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer.
Since I was already in his lap, it didn’t take much to adjust.
Wrap my legs around his waist.
My body was possessed and I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
Swirling my hips.
Riding him, despite the fact that we were both fully clothed.
Panting.
Hungry for this.
Wanting.
I cried out in ecstasy as he clutched a fistful of my curly locks and yanked my head backwards. His lips branded desire on my flesh, nipping the tender line of my neck. Driving me wild.
“I need you,” he murmured. “I need you right now.”
He hadn’t given me any specific orders but when I sprang from his lap and pulled off my pants and t-shirt, he didn’t stop me either. His eyes roamed over me as he rose from the bed slowly. Taking me in as he traced every curve with his gaze. He didn’t utter a word as he unbuckled his belt. Snatched his shirt free.
I held his gaze captive until he was as naked as I was, then I couldn’t help myself. My eyes dropped to his chest, every part of him sculpted, toned perfection. I lingered at his crotch because it was hard to not marvel at the solid, throbbing part of him.
Swollen.
Erect.
Mine.
He powered forward until he was in my personal space, in the best possible way. He reached for me and when his fingertips grazed the tender flesh between my thighs, electricity jolted through me.
I didn’t even realize I was standing at attention, thighs squeezed together, trembling with anticipation until he uttered a single word.
“Spread.”
Barely breathing, I spread my legs apart, just wide enough for his fingers to wander. He found the heart of me, warm and waiting for him. With a moan that I echoed, he dipped his fingers inside me and my body sighed. He pumped two digits inside me, curling his fingers, making me perk on my toes.
“Ba-ba-ba...” It was only a word. A word I said all the time. Casually. Romantically. Erotically. But with him buried inside me, beating out a rhythm that made me gasp and croon, I couldn’t get the second syllable out. I threw my head back and rode the waves of delight. Let them pull me under.
“What do you want?” He slowed, knowing that coherent speech would be impossible otherwise.
I blinked up at him, my whole body tingling. “I want you to fuck me.”
His mouth curved deviously. Clearly, he approved. “Go to the bed. Ass facing me.”
I didn’t waste any time, moving to the edge of the bed with lightning speed. I shoved aside my suitcase and planted my hands on the mattress. My current state made it unnecessary, but patience was never my strong suit. “I’m ready.”
I closed my eyes. Bit my lip. Waited for the sound of the floor creaking. The sound of him approaching. But there was only the roar of excitement and thrill pulsing through me. The beat of my heart.
When the floor finally creaked, it was a low whine. A tease.
“I’m not sure you are ready.”
Another creak.
Closer.
He was right behind me. I could feel his presence. I was tempted to turn my head. Pout. Provoke him into action. Somehow, I managed to not test my luck. I reveled in the fact that he was taking his time. Eyes drinking in the most intimate parts of me.
He touched me without using his hands, reaching inside me. His voice was like low, rolling thunder in the distance. Ricocheting over me. Through me.
“I’m the luckiest man alive to have a woman so beautiful. So willing.” His fingertips danced over the curve of my bottom. “Say it again. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
I swallowed deep, my eyes rolling back in my head when I felt him move closer. Spread me wider. Posed the head of his cock at my precipice.
I balled the sheets in my fists. “Please fuck me.”
He gripped my hip with one hand, matching my savage hold. The tip of him was just inside my heat. Stretching me. Making me shake. I hadn’t even felt the full might of him and I was already twitching. Panting.
And then he entered me.
It was a single, powerful thrust that made me cry out. Bite my lip so I didn’t make it obvious that we were doing what we were doing. Every new thrust, his body meeting mine, drove me closer to madness. Closer to climax. I was destroying our bed, certain that I’d rip through to the springs as he increased his speed. Pounded me like he knew I needed this. Like he needed this.
“You can let go, Leila.”
My name had never sounded so sweet.
So visceral.
So raw.
His husky words rippled along the current of desire that powered through me. I couldn’t have held on if I wanted to after he said those words. After he said my name like a prayer.
I buried my face in the mattress as I came. He wasn’t far behind me, caught up in the torrents of release as we both reveled in the bliss.
Jacob clutching me. Me clutching the bed.
There were no cuddles this time, not with the monitoring system chiming in the bedroom, announcing the driver’s arrival.
I pulled myself together, turning to him with fire in my cheeks. “What are we gonna do about...”
I trailed off, not saying the name that made my stomach twist in knots. A name I once swore I’d never say again.
From the arch of Jacob’s brow, he knew exactly where those dot, dot, dots led—and he ignored it altogether.
“We’re going to Venice.”