There’s a nudge against the couch cushion I’m sprawled across. On a heavy groan, I open my eyes to see Runt peering down at me.
His head leans to the side as he examines the situation. He folds his arms across his chest. “Breakfast is ready.”
I give him a slow nod of understanding.
“And that was Ollie’s whiskey you killed,” he motions his head to the empty bottle on the floor. “She may be pregnant, but she’s going to demand you replace it.”
A faint smile appears. “I will.”
“It’s the high dollar shit.”
“Yup.”
“Why didn’t you go out drinkin’ last night?”
“Tried,” my large frame maneuvers so my feet are back on his wooden floors, “but ended up at the same bar as Chastity and took that as a sign it would better to drink at home.”
“You mean my home.”
“Same shit.”
Runt doesn’t push the subject of why and I’m instantly grateful. It was enough Chastity had a million questions while dangling herself desperately at me for the one beer I made it through. After explaining to her it was never going to happen again, primarily because I have a ring waiting for a hand at home, I left and started drinking on Runt’s couch. Passed out about halfway through A Fistful of Dollars, which I swear is always magically in his DVD player.
“You’ve got some spare clothes in the baby’s closet upstairs if you wanna change.”
I give my disheveled suit from yesterday a solid look.
Didn’t even have time to get out of this before she kicked me out. Fuck, that look on her face when she did still hurts.
The pang in my chest returns and all I can do is muster up the strength to nod.
“See you at breakfast…” he quietly states and heads for his front door.
Once I’m alone, I give my face a hard scrub.
Did yesterday really happen? Am I over exaggerating or embellishing some of it? Did Abby really kick me out? Was it for good? Was it just a fight that blew up out of proportion?
I groan again in unhappiness, get off the couch, and head upstairs to change. Afterward, I toss my suit clothes in the back of my truck before crossing the property to our parent’s house.
Runt’s place being on the property was logical at first. When he started the brewery, it allowed him to be close to it while still maintaining some independence from our parents. I was already in the city and had no interest in moving back out here, but was more than willing to take advantage of his spare room for nights when my fun needed somewhere closer to crash.
Entering the dining area, I immediately smile at the sight of Ollie shoveling forkfuls of cheesy scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”
She hums and nods through her chewing from her position beside my brother.
I drop down in the empty end seat on the other side of Runt.
“We’re all glad to see she’s feeling better,” Mama agrees, strolling in with two plates in her hand. She places them down in the center of the table at the same time she states, “And she’s never going to give us a scare like that again. Isn’t that right?”
Ollie nods a second time.
“Drink up.” Mama points to the very large glass of water in front of Ollie’s plate. “I can’t afford to be riskin’ a heart attack before my next grandchild is born.”
Ollie and Ford sweetly smile while Pop pours a shot of whiskey into his coffee.
“What the hell, Pop? It’s breakfast,” I grunt.
He gives me a sarcastic stare. “And?”
“And you shouldn’t be drinkin’ before noon on a Sunday.”
“Or ever, really,” Runt comes to my support.
“I need the pick me up,” Pop yawns. “Late night.”
Mama snickers, which causes Runt and I to groan.
Sometimes I think my parents have more sex than I do.
“Where’s Abby?” Mama questions, her hand dropping onto her hip. “Still sleepin’?”
Just hearing her name slumps my shoulders. “She’s not here.”
The tension in the room rises, but Mama wades through it effortlessly. “And why not? I wanted to make her a cappuccino with the machine she got me.”
A wave of annoyance rushes through me. “Why’d she get you a cappuccino machine? What’s wrong with regular fuckin’ coffee? Since when is good ol’ fashion, Folgers coffee not good enough?”
All eyes dart to me with precision and perplexity.
Mama doesn’t bother proceeding with caution. “She got me one because she knows how much Oliver and his girlfriend love them, not to mention how she loves them and you. She got me one so when you’re all over, everyone can enjoy their favorite. She was contributing to this family because she loves it.”
I swallow the realization the outburst wasn’t about Abby, so much as the bitter taste her parents left in my mouth. Just because they don’t think someone like me is good enough, doesn’t mean Abby has secretly been believing the same about my family and trying to change us.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Pop questions.
“Why’s Abby not here?” Mama folds her arms across her chest. “What did you do?”
“Can I jus’…have breakfast, please?”
“No,” my parents state in unison.
Runt stifles the urge to laugh as he reaches for a piece of bacon.
“Blake Jenkins, why is that lovely girl not at this breakfast table?” Mama’s demand for answers lowers my eyes to the empty spot in front of me. When I don’t reply, she snaps, “I am not a fan of repeating myself.”
“We had a fight last night. She kicked me out. I slept at Runt’s.” I keep my eyes planted on the area my plate should be. “Can I have breakfast now?”
“No,” they snap together once more.
When I look up at Mama, she prods further, “Why’d she kick you out? And I swear as God as my witness Blake Jenkins Shaw if you cheated on that girl-”
“I didn’t!” I bite instantly. “I would never cheat on Abby.”
The thought of another woman hasn’t crossed my mind since we met.
“Was it my fault? Was she pissed you had to leave lunch with her parents early?” Runt sheepishly asks.
“No. In fact, Abby was relieved to hear everything is alright with you two and the baby.”
They both offer me a kind smile in return and my mom gives me a soft pat on the shoulder.
“Did it have something to do with meetin’ her parents?” Mama quickly continues.
I pause before replying, “Yes.”
Pop has a sip of his coffee. “What happened?”
Unsure I can keep avoiding the topic for much longer, I give my forehead a brief rub, and announce, “They hate me.”
To my surprise no one looks stunned.
Am I not as loveable as I think I am?
“Why?” Mama folds her arms tightly across her chest again. “What did you do? Were you rude durin’ lunch?”
“No.”
“Did you have your elbows on the table?”
“No.”
“Did you slurp like you were a baby hog and your food was fresh feed?”
My face hardens. “No.”
“You do that,” Pop defends his wife’s accusation. “A lot.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” he argues. “We choose to ignore you.”
“I-”
“Did you forget your manners? Did you forget your yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir, no sir? Did you not pull out Abby’s chair? Did you-”
“It’s because I’m white.”
Silence envelops the whole room.
My eyes boar deeper into Mama’s. “They have a list of reasons a mile long of why I’m not good enough for Abby and at the top of it, at the very fucking top, is because I’m white.” The knot in my throat begins to return. “Reverse racism. How about that…”
“It’s not reverse,” Ollie casually interjects grabbing all of our attention. She immediately finishes the bite she was chewing. “Sorry…I didn’t mean for that to come out rude. It’s just…there’s no such thing as ‘reverse racism’. It’s all just racism. Doesn’t matter which race is hating which race, any form of prejudice of that nature, is racism.”
Her clarification collects more worry about Abby’s parents being right about my lack of knowledge I am sure they accused me of lacking. Did I sound completely moronic while speaking to them yesterday? Should I have used more of my words from the Dictionary app? Lord have mercy, I hate caring this much about what other people think of me.
Ollie’s voice drops down to just above a whisper. “Can you please pass the toast?”
Runt reaches over and slides the plate in front of her, making sure to plant a kiss of reassurance on her cheek afterward.
“And….how did you respond to this?” There’s now caution in Mama’s tone.
“I was pissed.” I shrug. “She told me and when I asked if she stood up for me or us, she didn’t say yes. So…I…yelled.”
“And?” Pop pushes knowing I’m holding back.
“And…I told her she needed to grow up.” All of a sudden, there are two distinct sharp pains in the back of my head from my parents slapping me in unison. “Ou!”
“The double slap,” Runt chortles. “Haven’t seen that since you got Pop’s truck stuck when you took it mudding.”
I was fifteen and shouldn’t have been driving anyway. Add that to getting it stuck and dragged home by the local sheriff? The double slap was a prelude to the punishing of a lifetime.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Pop grouses.
“We raised you better than that!”
My attention oscillates back and forth. “Why are you yellin’ at me? I’m not the one who isn’t willin’ to make a stand and fight for us! I’m not the one who isn’t mature enough to stand behind the person I love!”
“Are you really that dense?” Pop sighs after another sip. “Tell me, we did a better job than this?”
Completely confused at how I’m in the wrong, I toss my hands in the air.
“Wow,” my father exhales sharply. “How would you feel if we hated Abby because she was black?”
The question stiffens my entire body.
“How would you feel if she wasn’t welcomed here?”
“I’d be pissed! I’d raise hell! I-”
“You wouldn’t,” he cuts me off. “At least not immediately. We’re your family, Blake. You love us. You’d be surprised. Most likely in shock. Confused and scared.”
His words begin to burrow into my brain.
“You’d be devastated,” Mama adds. “Your back would be against an unexpected wall and there would be an unmistakable feelin’ of havin’ to choose.”
My heartache deepens.
“Now, I don’t know Abby as well as you do,” Ollie joins the conversation, “but loner recognizes loner. And if Abby’s family is all she’s ever had before you, then my guess is she’s probably never had to deal with this issue in the past. Some people’s hatred doesn’t break free until it’s on their doorstep holding their child’s hand. Not knowing your parents, the people you trust to guide you, the people you trust to support you, the people you assume love you and only want the best, are racist isn’t just a run of the mill bombshell. It’s nuclear. It’s life changing. And if their hatred runs deep enough, forcing Abby to choose the only people she’s ever had or a future with someone she’s just learned to love, there’s a high probability something inside of her broke. What she needs is to know you’re still on her side. That if she really has to choose and she chooses you, you will be there for her. As much as we like to believe people are accepting, the truth is so many aren’t, and when you don’t have the support of family or friends to back you up, you, at the very least, want the support of the person you’ve risked it all for.” Her soul baring speech is proceeded with a crooked smile. “Can I have more eggs, please?”
Mama offers her a wide grin. “More water then I’ll grab you more eggs.”
“Go home,” Pop commands calmly. “The last thing Abby needs is to be alone.”
I slowly shake my head. “She doesn’t wanna see me right now.”
“Because she didn’t answer your calls or texts?” As soon as I nod he grunts, “All of my boys are morons.”
My mouth hits the table.
“Was I this dumb at his age?” Pop directs his question to Mama.
“Dumber.”
He gives her a glare and she responds with a wicked smirk.
“Go. Home,” Pop repeats firmly to me. “It doesn’t matter if she’s ignoring you. Show up. Prove yourself. Prove you will be there to weather whatever storm may or may not be ahead. Prove to her even if she loses one family, she still has another, right here, with us.”
I give the faces around the room a hard look noticing a similar look of solidarity on them.
He’s right. He’s absolutely right. She needs to know I’m not going anywhere. She needs to know she’ll never be alone again.
After a quick departure, which included one burnt piece of punishment bacon, I head back home. The minute I step foot inside I’m greeted with the melancholy sounds of Abby’s cello. Slowly, I enter the room, breath taken away at the vision she is behind her instrument. Her eyes are shut tight. Her messy hair is high on her head. Her curvy figure is buried underneath one of my t-shirts. Her legs are pressed tightly against the cello as she uses her bow to flawlessly caress the strings.
I let out a defeated sigh.
Why didn’t I come last night? Why didn’t I refuse to leave? Why didn’t I fight for us right then and there the way I accused her of not doing?
Abby abruptly stops and her eyes shoot open.
When they land on me, I say, “Autumn’s Anguish.”
She doesn’t speak.
“You were a bit sharp.” Walking over to the couch, I drop down in the same seat I was in when the argument began last night. “It happens when you’re in your own head.”
Her scowl remains. “Are you criticizing me because that’s what my parents do, so you figure you should do it too?”
I bite my tongue and shake my head. “No, I’ve just been fortunate enough to hear you play this song hundreds of times. Plus, I listen to it at work often, making it easy to recognize wrong notes.”
Her shoulders loosen.
“It was your audition piece for the Highland Orchestra.”
Abby doesn’t acknowledge the fact. Instead she returns her bow to the strings. “Do you recognize this one?”
The quick change from complete sadness to something upbeat gives me hope. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem. Maybe this bump is smaller than I spent all night making it out to be.
With a crooked smile, I fold my hands together. “That’s I Knew You Were Trouble, by Taylor Swift.”
“Fan girl.” The playfulness in her tone is appreciated.
“When’d you learn that?”
“Haven’t exactly,” she answers while continuing to play. “Just the chorus, but that’s because I was busy learning this one.” The notes change and my recognition is instant. “We had our first kiss to this song.”
Hearing Tim McGraw’s I Like It, I Love It from a cello is odd yet more meaningful than I can express. The knot of sorrow expands past the point of swallowing. “You…You learned it for me?”
Her eyes stay focused on her playing. “I’ve learned a lot for you…From you…”
My lips start to tremble to the point I have to press them together to make it stop.
“Traditionally for auditions you should pick something classical, but I’m thinking perhaps I do something different. Perhaps it’ll make me stand out.”
Unsure of what she’s referring to, I ask, “What um…What audition?”
“There’s an opening for a cellist in a prestigious ensemble similar to Sparkcane, but a slightly smaller scale. There current cellist has developed an illness that will prevent her from playing the second leg of their global tour. My mother forwarded me an email this morning.”
Of course she did…
“How long would you be gone?”
“Six months.” Abby finally stops playing and locks eyes with me. “Do you think I should go?”
“Do you wanna go?”
“If the answer’s yes?”
“Then go.”
“You don’t want me to stay?”
“I don’t want you miserable,” I softly sigh.
Her bottom lip tucks itself out of sight.
“Angel, if you wanna travel the world again, despite how much you hated how lonely it made you feel in the past, then go for it. If that’s what you want, go after it. It’s your career. It’s your choice. I’ll support whatever decision you make. If you wanna jump from country to country for six months then I’ll wipe out my savings and take out a loan to come see you as often as I possibly can.”
Abby’s face lights up in surprise. “Really?”
“Of course. I love you, Abby, whether you are sipping cappuccinos in Italy or at our kitchen table. I’m not goin’ anywhere and nothing and no one can change that.” Pleased to have the perfect segue, I state, “I’m sorry about last night. I was upset. I overreacted. I should’ve never snapped at you like I did. Honestly, I wasn’t exactly bein’ very mature about the entire thing myself. As much as I hate the fact your parents don’t like me and loathe how they treat you, it’s not gonna push me away. It’s not gonna keep me away. I’m here, Abby. I’ll always be here for you. However you want to handle them and your career, I support it. I stand by you, the same way you always stand by me. I’ll never give up on you or us, Angel.”
For a moment neither of us move.
I’m not going to let the woman I love go without a fight, even if the fight simply requires me to stand idly by.
Abby rests her instrument on the ground and strolls her way over to me, stealing my breath with each small step. She lowers herself to my lap and winds her arms around my neck. Instantly, I nestle my face in the crook of her neck to breathe her in.
She gently maneuvers my face for us to connect eyes again. “I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to them about us sooner. It took me completely by surprise.”
Ollie was right.
“I called them after I got the email this morning.”
Nervousness arises. “And?”
“I explained to them I was happy here. I’m happy with the Highland Orchestra. I’m happy with the size I am. And I’m happy with you.”
A small smile begins to spread.
“We fought for over an hour. They think I’m throwing my life away and I honestly think for the first time I actually just have a life. They agreed they could make peace with my poor career choices, given my past accomplishments, but would not accept my ‘poor choice’ in my personal life. They swore I don’t need someone like you in my life and I could see their point. I don’t. Like you said when we first met, neither of us need each other that way, but we want it. And this is one of those cases where I think wanting someone cultivates into needing someone and I’m perfectly alright with that.” Her smile extends mine. “Unfortunately, my declaration and heartfelt explanation ended with them stating they will not support us as a couple. They want nothing to do with you and nothing to do with me until I ‘come to my senses’ and end this.”
A vile feeling lingers in the pit of my stomach. “Angel, I don’t want you to have choose between me and them.”
“You’re not asking me to. They are. If they can’t see past their own bigoted beliefs and be happy for me, then that’s on them.” Her hand gently runs down my chest. “I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, Blake Shaw. You’re not some fling or fleeting moment. You’re my forever.”
Unable to restrain myself any longer, I imprison her lips with mine. There’s no resisting. Abby eagerly grants my tongue access to hers and I groan at the invitation. They whirl wildly around and around, as if they feared as much as our hearts did that this was over. Her angelic whimpers drench me and I press us tighter together. Abby’s lower half gently grinds against mine. The enticing action sends our bodies into a frenzy. Frantically, my hands begin tugging at the shirt blocking their path while hers wind themselves in the back of my hair in an effort to pull me closer. I swiftly flip us around so her back is against the seat cushions. My lungs catch fire seeking more air, but I don’t relinquish the hold on her mouth. Her fingers slip under my t-shirt skimming my lower abs as they fight to free my cock. Only a few short moments later, my jeans are around my ankles, and I’m being welcomed by the sweet heat of her pussy.
She arches upward on the world’s sweetest gasp. “Blake…”
Anxious to hear her make the noise again and again, I repeat the movement while drowning in her passion for me. For us. Abby’s pussy constricts and my orgasm pressures for an early surrender to the new experience.
I’ve never had sex without a condom before. The ability to feel every tiny ripple against my dick is like being invited to have a permanent seat in paradise.
Her hips vigorously lift to meet each thrust and I can’t stop the savageness that overcomes me. My cock pistons harder as her cries increase from the constant stroking of her g-spot. I keep myself rooted above her, watching and feeling her becoming wetter with every push. Her moans become breathless while her body begins to quiver underneath me. She clutches onto my arms for leverage and I realize she’s gripping onto me for so much more than that. She’s allowing me to be her support system. Her lifesaver. Her husband someday. A rapturous roar is ripped out of my chest and I pound harder, wanting her to feel my loyalty in every cell of her body. Abby explodes taking me with her. Her pussy milks me profusely and my cock is more than willing to give her everything I have. Our joint orgasm rocks and blurs my vision dwarfing all the previous ones I’ve ever experienced. Despite the tremors threatening to collapse me, I continue to gently push, needing our closeness to last as long as possible.
She’s my forever too, and I will spend the rest of my life making sure she never has a reason to doubt it.