In a second flat, my heart goes from crumbling to soaring. The silence between Brian and me grows like our awareness of each other’s feelings.

It’s sweet.

It’s scary.

It’s a drug.

The dark lust that draws us together over the obstacle of my desk is a language we both understand. It’s more potent than a touch or a word. He feels my need. He knows the depth of my desire. I’ll let him do despicable acts of passion to me–tying me up, fucking my ass with anything he fancies, and filming us–because he had it straight when I said I trusted him. I don’t care what the world will think of me, because I own those moments.

Dorothy was right. It feels good.

“I–”

He holds up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t expect you to say the same because you think that’s what I want to hear.”

My words are soft. “Unless I mean them.”

Uncertainty creeps into his tone. “Do you?”

“I’m falling in love with you, too.”

I haven’t said those words to anyone but Evan, and now that they’ve left my mouth, it’s as if the spell that kept me bound to Evan’s ghost breaks, and I’m free. I’m free to fall in love again. I’m free to feel, and it hurts like hell.

“Jane…” He swallows.

Where the admission on the one hand sets me free, it opens up a cauldron of problems on the other. If you don’t care, there’s no future to worry about, but if you’re in love to the point of being addicted, the future shifts to the focal point. That’s where the problem lies.

“There’s no future for us, Brian.”

Falling in love was futile. This is why I didn’t want to care. Now I’m slain open, and that dragon he unleashed is demanding her pound of flesh, except there’s no one else like Brian to give it, and there will never be. He’s everything I need, everything I love, but his life is just beginning when mine is over the halfway line.

His expression heats with anger. “Bullshit.”

“You’re nineteen, for God’s sake. By the way, you lied to me about your age.”

“Don’t throw age at me. Age is not a valid reason for us not to have a future.”

“Think.” I tap my temple. “How old will I be when you’re forty?”

“This is your insecurity speaking.”

“I’ll be an old woman, and you’ll be in the prime of your life.”

“One,” he holds up a finger, “you’ll never be an old woman in my eyes. Two, this is the last time I’m telling you, it’s not about age. Three, I fucking love your body, but it’s you I’m head over heels in love with.”

Silently, I consider his words. How much more shall I risk? The further our relationship goes, the harder I’ll fall. Will I survive it, this time?

“Jane,” his voice is pleading, “you’re over-complicating this.”

“It’s this simple–What happens when you’re fifty and I’m seventy?”

For a moment, I pinch my eyes shut, waiting for him to deal the blow, because not even Brian can be this ignorant, but he doesn’t falter or wither. He faces me squarely. Certain.

“I’ll still love you, and if I’m lucky, you’ll love me back. It’s that simple.”

God, I want to believe him, and the miracle is I do.

I can’t let him go. I cling to him with my gaze, even as the door opens and Candice steps inside.

“Oh.” She stops short. “I didn’t know you were busy.”

Clearing my throat, I force myself to look away from Brian. “Yes?”

“Toby wants to see you.”

“Thanks.” I have to clear my throat again before I can speak past the emotions. “I’ll be right there.”

Brian doesn’t turn to look at her. He just stares at me, his eyes dark with a kind of possession I’ve never seen before.

Lunch is at Jane’s place on Saturday. As usual, she cooked up a storm, knocking my socks off. God, I love her cooking. This lunch is different, though. This time, there are three of us. Abby is there.

I understand why Jane waited to introduce me to her daughter. You don’t invite your bed partners to meet your kids, unless it’s moving in a solid direction. The solid has been there all along. We only agreed to take it forward.

Solid.

Exclusive.

Public.

She’s falling in love with me.

I still can’t get over the high of those words. I’m like a kid with his first kite. Jane is my first in every way. The first woman I want more than sex with. The first woman with who I can picture a future. My first love.

Fuck, she’s in love with me. I’m a lucky bastard, because I sure as hell don’t deserve her sweet pussy, never mind her heart. Only, I was never going to stop until I had both. We’re out in the open and so are our feelings. There’s no turning back, but Abby is going to be a hurdle. I can see it from the way she crosses her arms and glares at me from across the table, which is set outside with a pretty tablecloth and colorful crockery. Jane is serving an Italian menu with pasta dishes. She declined my offer to help carry everything outside, I’m suspecting to give me time alone with Abby.

“Aren’t you the security guy?” Abby asks.

“I helped your mom out with the installation, but I’m not with a security company.”

“I saw you at our house.” Her words carry an accusation. “I came home from ballet and you were just leaving. I recognise your truck.”

“Your mother and I have been friends for a while.” If Jane hasn’t told her the nature of our relationship, I respect that. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated to put the facts straight. I want the world to know Jane’s mine, but not Jane’s kid. Jane should deal with breaking the news when she’s ready. I prefer to change the subject. “How do you like your new home?”

“Not much.”

My brow rises at that. “Why not?”

“I ran into our landlady in the garden. She told me you chose the place.”

“For the record, I found it, but your mother chose it. Is that why you don’t like it, because you think I chose it?”

She snorts. “Don’t be silly. I don’t like that my mother lied to me.”

Jane has been confiding in me about her strained relationship with her daughter and the way Abby is with Debbie. I don’t point out that her father lied to her and her mother about his mistress, and she seems to be getting on just fine with her dad and his soon-to-be-wife.

“Don’t be too hard on your mother. Moving wasn’t her choice, and it’s not easy on her, either.”

“She had a choice.” Before I can ask what she means, she continues. “You’re her boyfriend, aren’t you?”

Ah, shit. I can’t lie at a direct question, not if I’m hoping to one day win her trust. “You should ask your mom about that, but yes, I like to think of myself as her boyfriend.”

“How old are you?”

“Abby, it’s not about–”

“Mom said you’re twenty.”

“Yeah.” Almost.

“You’re only seven years older than me.”

I scratch the back of my head. “It’s not about age. It’s about maturity and compatibility, but I don’t expect you to understand that, yet. One day, you will. I know your mom loves you, and she wants you to be happy, but she also deserves her own happiness, don’t you think?”

Abby opens her mouth but shuts it when Jane exits the house with a tray. I get to my feet to take it from her.

Our lunch continues in a tense atmosphere. I get an inkling of how it must be for Jane. I’ll have a word with Abby again when the next opportunity presents itself, but I should let her get more used to the idea of Jane and I as an item. I almost don’t get through lunch with the way Abby slurps her spaghetti, but I crunch my teeth and make an effort for Jane. It takes counting to a thousand several times during the meal.

After lunch, I help to tidy up and then go home to spend time with Sam while Jane drops Abby off at her friend’s house for a sleepover before getting ready for Eugene’s party. I also get some equipment from Tron I want to set up in the cellar.

The plan was to pick up Jane at eight, but she sends a text to let me know she’s running late and will meet me at the bar. With time to spare, I arrive early. Clive, Mike, and a few other guys are already there. By the looks of it, Eugene is well on his way to getting pissed. They would’ve pumped him full of shooters by now.

I put my arm around his shoulders and lead him to the bar. “Happy birthday, bud.” I signal for the bar lady. “Let’s get some water into him.”

He makes a face when she puts a beer mug full of milky tap water in front of him, but he drinks it all.

“Alternate with water after every drink,” I say, “or you won’t make the end of the night.”

Clive comes up with shot of tequila. He offers me the tot glass. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He throws the liquor back with a grimace.

The door opens, and a group of girls enter. I can pretend I don’t see her, but I can’t overlook the blonde in the center.

Eugene elbows me. He’s seen them too. “Your date’s here.”

“My date’s still on her way.”

“No fucking way,” Clive chirps.

“What’s that?” Mike, who joined our party at the bar, asks.

Clive shakes his head as if I’m the biggest loser in the bar. “He invited his uptown girlfriend.”

Mike stands taller. “The one who brought you lunch at the site?”

“She brought you lunch?” Eugene whistles. “Man, this is serious.”

“She’s a looker, that one,” Mike says. “I don’t know how you winged it, but she’s got class.”

“Big mistake.” Eugene looks amused. “We’re just a bunch of poor idiots. I don’t think she’ll fit in.”

“Don’t forget Lindy’s here,” Clive adds.

“Let me worry about my girlfriend and how she fits,” I bite out.

“Is it official, then?” Eugene asks. “Last time we spoke about it you didn’t want to admit shit.”

“As official as it gets.” Which makes me sleep better at night. She’s my woman, meaning I get to play the hands-off card.

Mike looks at me with something like admiration. “You don’t fool around.”

Not when it comes to her. No fooling there.

Eugene orders a round of beers while Clive secures a pool table. My eyes are trained on the door, watching, waiting.

At eight-thirty, she walks in. I almost choke on the swallow of beer I’ve just taken. Jane is wearing long, lace-up boots with black stockings. The black shorts are tight with a high waist, showing off her firm ass and flat stomach. A red patent leather jacket and a fitted tank top rounds off the outfit. Her make-up is heavier than usual with dark eyeliner and red lipstick, and her hair is slicked back. Her only jewelry is big hoop earrings. I’ve seen her in all kinds of formal and naked, but this is new. Steaming hot. She’s looking casual but classy in an understated and over-sexy way. It’s not the clothes or the make-up. It’s the attitude and that body. It’s just Jane.

The bar hasn’t exactly gone quiet, but everyone is looking. Mike is practically drooling. I have to shoulder him to close his mouth. The girls are more discreet, but they’re staring just like the men. Even Clive is pussy-whacked. I feel like breaking a few jaws, starting with Mike just because he’s unlucky enough to be closest, but then Jane spots me and smiles.

The fucked-up world I live in falls away. My sins don’t matter, and the darkness of my soul has no consequence, because that smile makes everything okay. The only thing that counts is the woman who walks to me with a sway and confidence in her gait. She’s a woman, not a girl, old enough to know what she wants. What she wants is me.

She’s almost on top of me before I get back the function of my tongue.

“Hey, princess.”

Thanks for not standing me up. You look gorgeous. The room just got happier now that you’re here. All the things I want to say sound as cheesy as hell, so I rather keep my mouth shut. There are better things I can do with my mouth.

Cupping her nape, I draw her nearer and kiss those red lips. She smiles when I wipe her lipstick from my lips with the back of my hand. Does she know what I’m thinking, where I want those red lips, right now?

I’m so smitten, I’ve almost forgotten we’ve got company, but Jane remembers her manners.

She holds out a hand to Mike. “How are you doing, Mike?”

He fucking blossoms. “You remember my name. Good. I mean I’m good.”

“Happy birthday, Eugene.” She kisses his cheek and hands him a small parcel.

My friend blushes. I swear he must be red from his cheeks right down to his toes.

“Clive.” She offers her hand.

This time, he shakes it, mumbling a greeting.

She motions at the gift. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Eugene fumbles with the giftwrap. It takes him almost a minute to tear it off. “No way.”

Jane smiles sweetly. “I hope you like it.”

“No ways.”

Mike tries to look over Eugene’s shoulder. “What is it?”

I’m as curious as hell, even if I won’t admit it.

“Is this what I think it is?” Eugene asks.

“Yep. It’s from the original movie reel.”

“Shit. This is a piece of cult.” Eugene holds a piece of film to the light. “The Empire Strikes Back, 1980. My all-time favorite Star Wars movie. You remembered. Thanks, Jane. This is really cool.”

“Wow.” Mike stares at it in wonder. “Where did you get it?”

“I worked at Disney World for a couple of months during my backpacking years. Got it at the souvenir shop.”

“How did you even know it’s his favorite?” I ask Jane.

“Eugene told me when we were moving.”

“Thank you,” Eugene says again. “It’s awesome. You’re the best.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

That was a nice thing to do. I’m sure the souvenir meant a lot to her. I’m not the only one to think so. The whole bunch look at her like she’s made of fairy dust. I pull her to my side and put a hand on her lower back. I like to have her close and touch her, but it’s also a warning to the rest of the assholes who are staring.

Brushing my mouth over her ear, I ask, “What would you like to drink?” The music isn’t so loud she won’t hear me, but I want to feel her body shiver. She doesn’t disappoint.

“Beer, please.”

I place the order and turn to introduce her to the rest of the crowd, mostly people from our class, but Jane is already taking care of herself. She’s chatting to a guy with freckles who sat next to me in science class. It takes all of ten minutes for her to put everyone at ease. At ease is an understatement. Win them over is more like it. Her social skills are good. I guess when you move in her circles you get practice, but Jane has a quality of being genuinely interested in people. I think back to our first breakfast and her platonic interest in me, how it made me feel like the most important person in the world, the only person on the planet.

When the karaoke starts–a special exception for Eugene–she’s on stage with all the other clowns. They’re laughing their asses off, looking like they’re having the time of their lives. I grab a seat at the bar from where I can watch Jane. It’s not only to make sure she’s safe, but I like being her spectator. I like watching her in a social setup. It’s different. We haven’t spent time with other people. It shows me another side of Jane, the fun and playful side. I imagined shielding her all night from curious stares and questions, but she’s out there on her own, one of them. One of us. I wouldn’t have minded holding her hand throughout the party, figuratively speaking. I accepted and looked forward to it as my duty, but seeing a different nuance to her is more fun.

The song ends with loud clapping. I stretch my legs out in front of me, expecting Jane to come to me and making space on my lap, but she tosses me a private sultry look and mingles with the group at the pool tables. They talk animatedly. She throws her head back in laughter. It’s too far to hear what they’re talking about, but I don’t give a damn about the conversation. Not really. What I care about is the way she presses the beer bottle to her cheek, as if she needs cooling down. I care about the way her hip cocks slightly as she shifts her weight and how sassy her legs look in those boots. I care about how it looks as if she’s really enjoying herself.

From the other side of the room, Lindy makes her way over. Our eyes connect. It’s too late to get up and walk away.

She takes the seat next to me, her knees brushing my thigh. “I’ll have a tequila slammer.”

“Isn’t that a bit strong for you?”

“Making decisions on my behalf? We’re not even together, yet. Or are you just watching out for me, protecting your future interests?”

“Lindy.” It’s both a plea and a warning.

She tips her head toward the pool area. “That’s what you passed me over for? Marilyn Monroe?”

“Don’t be nasty. It doesn’t become you.”

“Are you buying my drink, or do I have to get it myself?”

I call the bar lady over and order the drink. When she’s poured the lemonade, Lindy pushes the glass toward me.

“Mix it.”

Placing a palm over the glass, I slam it down hard. The lemonade fizzes up to the rim. She takes it back and tosses it in one go.

Licking her lips, she watches me. “You didn’t reply to my messages.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“You lied to my dad.” She swivels her chair and rests her elbows on the counter behind her. “About why you got that fancy job.”

“Lindy–”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell. I figured out a few things about my dad since we last talked. He’ll kill you, and you’re no good to me dead.”

“What are you playing at?”

She puts a hand on my thigh. “I’ll let you have your fun with Marilyn. When you’re done playing the toy boy, you’ll come crawling to me.” Leaning over, she whispers in my ear, “That’s a promise.”

I catch her wrist and move her hand away. “I think you’ve had enough. Your daddy won’t be happy if you get home drunk.”

Her eyes flash as I get off the barstool. I don’t wait for her to say more. I turn my back on her and walk away.

What I can’t walk away from, is dealing with Monkey.

It’s going to have to happen soon.

Everyone is in high spirits. I’m having a good time. I’m learning things about Brian he never talks about, like how he got into detention for freeing the frogs from the biology class before they could become autopsy experiments. Brian’s classmates are eager to tell the stories, and I’m a greedy listener. When I glance over to Brian, I spot her, the girl who sent him a photo text. She’s sitting next to him, her lips pouty. He says something. She puts her hand on his thigh, and when she leans over to whisper in his ear, her gaze catches mine. I look away quickly.

The ugly, jealous part of me rears its head. I’m simultaneously embarrassed and hurt. It’s just flirting. Why is it affecting me? I’m not in high school, for God’s sake. Yet, I can no longer focus on the conversation around me.

“Everything all right?” Brian asks, suddenly next to me.

I shake away the feelings. “Yes. You?”

“I’m ready to go, unless you want to hang out here a bit longer.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Looks like you’re having fun.”

“Ready.” I hand him my empty beer bottle.

He leaves it on a nearby table and takes my hand, leading me to the door. Outside, we stop next to my car.

“I want to show you something,” he says.

“What?”

“Follow me.”

Without another word, he walks to his truck. I’m needy and hungry for him. I want him to take me to bed, but when we get to my place, he tells me to lock my car and get into the truck.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

As we cross over the highway and take the exit, our destination becomes clear. He’s taking me back to his place? He hasn’t invited me back since the incident with his mother, and I didn’t want to invite myself. Heading over to see his family wasn’t what I expected tonight.

We park under the awning, but instead of leading me to the back door, he guides me to the cellar.

The heavy hatch falls onto the grass with a thud when he opens it. He unlocks the security grid and removes the chain. When he flicks on a switch and light spills down the stairs, I suck in a breath. The place is completely transformed. The wooden staircase is solid. The walls are plastered, and the floor cemented. A sofa is pushed against the wall, facing a flat-screen television. A small bar-fridge stands in one corner and a cabinet with glasses next to it.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“When did you do all this?”

“In the evenings. There’s a lot of work to do, still. It needs painting and a carpet, but it’ll make a cozy den. Come on.”

He goes down the steep steps first and offers me a hand. Inside, I turn in a circle, admiring his work. It’s neatly done. The building experience came in handy. There’s a coffee table in front of the television stacked with electronic equipment, mostly cameras.

I wave at the table. “What’s this?”

“Old stuff I got from Tron. He gave me the television, too.”

I don’t ask what work he had to do to earn the flat-screen. “This is where you chill?” I quote his slang from when he first showed me the cellar.

“It’s quiet when I need to study.”

Sleeping in the lounge isn’t ideal. Maybe this is a good time to bring up the issue that’s been bothering me since he invited me home. I don’t want him to think I’m interfering or questioning how he spends his money.

“Do you sometimes think of getting a bigger place?”

“All the time, but my mom can’t leave here.”

I almost bite my tongue for the stupid comment. “How about extending the house? With your new salary it would be possible.”

“Sam’s education is priority. She’s going to a private school next year.”

Of course. That’s just what Brian would do.

“The school she’s in now has a bad reputation. She’s getting bullied, but that’s not the point. She can handle herself,” he says proudly. “The point is that there are no computers, no science equipment, and it’s infested with drug dealers.”

My heart softens even more for the man facing me, a man so much older than his years. “She’s lucky to have you as a big brother.”

“Come here.” He pulls his phone from his back pocket and leaves it on the table. Then he sits down on the sofa and pulls me down to straddle him.

I push on his chest, glancing at the open hatch. “What about Sam and your mother?”

“Sam will be in bed already, and my mom never comes outside. No one is going to walk in on us,” he says with a mischievous grin. He cups my jaw and draws me closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”

When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, my belly flutters. I open my mouth to give him access and gasp when he steals inside, seducing me into a puddle of desire with a gentle kiss. He takes his time, molding his lips over mine in an easy and unrushed pace. He kisses me with his eyes open, taking in my expression with the intensity I came to associate with his brooding, dark eyes. The caress is tender and sweet, but my need skyrockets. My clit and folds swell. Wetness gathers between my thighs. Moaning, I grind down on his erection. His hands slip from my face to my hips, supporting me as I rock rhythmically against him while he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and gives a gentle nip.

The leather of his bracelet chaffs my skin as our pace picks up. His fingers dig deeper into my flesh until I feel them to my bones. The tenderness transforms into the fire that always consumes us, our hands roaming and groping while our moans fill the space.

In one movement, he lifts me to my feet. “Undress.”

As always, he watches me while I do. When I’m left with only the thigh-high stockings and boots, he says, “Leave them on. I’ve been fantasizing about these legs in those boots all night, too.”

The confession pleases me. At least his fantasies were about me, even if another woman had her hand on his leg and her lips against his ear.

He reaches around me for his phone and a remote. A second later the television comes on.

“We’re watching movies?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes. Come sit on my lap.”

I like the idea. I’m about to climb on sideways when he catches my hips and turns me around. Pulling me back, he makes me straddle him again, but facing forward. My legs are spread wide and my pussy open and needy. My breasts beg for attention. He flicks a thumb over the screen of his phone. When an image of us fills the television screen, I understand what kind of movie we’re going to watch.

I suck in a breath as sounds and motion unfold. My ass is high in the air, stretched by the vibrator, and my pussy is on display. It’s weird to see myself like this. It makes me blush, but it also turns me on, and when Brian enters me with a violent thrust on the screen, more moisture leaks between my legs.

He pulls my chest against his back and tweaks my nipples between his fingers. “Does it turn you on?” he whispers in my neck.

Goosebumps run over my skin. “It does.” Not only the lustful sounds and images, but also his hands on me now.

His voice is wicked. “Mm, let’s see how much.”

His palm flattens between my breasts. Slowly, he drags it down my body until he cups my soaking sex.

“This much,” he says, his tone pleased.

Pressing two fingers together, he rubs them over my clit. My hips lift of their own accord. My head falls back, and my eyes flutter close.

He nips my ear. “Watch.”

I do as I’m told. He’s fucking me so hard in our private movie he has to keep my body up with one arm. The memory of those sensations deep in my core make my pussy clench. I need to touch him. He doesn’t object as I lift to my knees to undo his zipper and free his cock. The head is wet with pre-cum. I use my hand to smear it over his long shaft, lubricating him before closing my fingers and squeezing.

He hisses. His grip on my hips tightens before he pulls me almost violently back down in his lap. His cock is jutting out in front of my pussy between my spread legs. I can’t help but rock my hips forward, dragging my clit over his hard length.

“Goddammit.” He groans.

I get no warning as he circles my waist with both hands, lifts me higher, and positions his cock at my entrance. He impales me with a hard thrust, slamming up as he brings my body down. Our groins crush together. He’s so deep inside it hurts. There’s no time to find my balance. He lifts me an inch and pivots his hips, ramming his cock into my body, but I’m wet and ready, taking him easily. Then he reverses the action, keeping still but lifting me up and down by the waist. He keeps a hard rhythm that’s in sync with what’s happening on the screen. I’m close, but I won’t come if he doesn’t touch my clit.

As if reading my mind, he slows his pace, rolling his hips rather than thrusting. His cock hits a spot deep inside that has my thighs clenching. I dig my fingers into the fabric of his jeans, trying to find leverage as he folds one big hand around my neck, pulling my back to his chest. Finally, his free hand moves to my clit. My back is arched in this position, pushing my pussy forward and spreading me wider. I cry out, trying to bite back a scream when he pinches my clit and rolls it between his fingers the way I like.

He’s close, because he’s swelling inside me. My release starts to build in par with the woman’s on the screen. He rubs my clit harder and fucks me faster, deeper. The pleasure coils. It heats my body. I cup his balls as he slams his groin against my ass. If it weren’t for his grip on my neck, holding me still, my body would’ve lifted straight off his lap. His fingers close marginally, not choking me, but claiming dominance.

Everything inside contracts as pleasure rips through me. My scream is an echo of the one coming from the screen. He curses and keeps still, his cock jerking inside me. He rolls his hips up, settling deeper as warm jets fills my channel. I let him wring every aftershock from me with his fingers on my clit until we both sag back onto the couch, spent.

He keeps his hand on my sex and caresses my neck and jaw with the other, stroking my shoulder, arm, and breasts. We take our time to come down from our high, the screen now black. When I’ve found my breath, he lifts me off his cock and makes me lie down on my back. Bending my knees, he pulls off his T-shirt and uses it to clean me. How does he do that? How does he control my orgasm to the point of perfect timing? He rolls the T-shirt into a ball and throws it on the floor. Then he plants a kiss on my clit before crawling up my body to kiss my nipples. It’s like foreplay in reverse, like we went for the wild stuff first to enjoy the sweetness after. He licks and sucks my nipples until my need starts building again, and then he kisses my lips while he makes the sweetest, gentlest love to me.

Afterward, he pulls a throw over us, holding me in his arms. I’m sleepy and satisfied, but the night gets fresh quickly now that the heatwave has broken, and the cellar is cold. Soon, I start shivering.

He kisses my shoulder. “Let’s get you dressed before you catch a cold.”

He helps me dress and goes ahead of me up the steps to help me out. His chest is naked, but the cold doesn’t seem to affect him. He makes me get into the truck and starts the engine with the heater on full blast while he goes into the house to get a shirt and jacket.

When he comes back, I’m halfway asleep. He gets in but just sits and stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Tired and cold.”

“I’m fine. Better, actually. I’m fantastic.”

“Stay the night.”

“Here?”

“I can’t leave my sister and mom alone, not the whole night.”

“I understand, but what about them if we wake up together in your bed?”

“Sam’s a big girl. She knows about the birds and bees, and it’s not like I have to ask my mother’s permission.”

It’s a long drive to my place, and it’s late. The roads are not safe at this time of night. We’re both tired. I’m not comfortable letting him drive back and forth. “All right.”

Back in the house, he makes me tea and toast before ordering me to the bathroom. After a warm shower, he gives me one of his T-shirts to wear. We snuggle up in his sofa bed in the dark lounge, and although I’m not at ease with sleeping here with his mother and sister next door, I fall into a deep sleep in his arms, not waking until the sun is high and bright in the room. The only thing brighter than the sun is Sam’s smile as she stares down at us.

Shit!

I jackknife into a sitting position, clutching the sheet to my chest.

“You’re wearing Brian’s T-shirt,” she says.

Brian stirs. He stretches, opens his eyes, and blinks. “Hey, piglet. Did you wake Jane?”

“It’s ten o’clock.”

Brian yawns. “We had a late night.”

“Is that why she slept over?”

He sits up, pulling me closer with an arm around my shoulders. “No. She slept over because that’s what girlfriends do.”

My insides heat at the statement. I’m proud to be with him. I’m proud of everything Brian is.

“Mom’s making breakfast.” Sam turns and leaves.

I glance at Brian. This is going to be awkward. He cups my face and kisses me as if I’m made of spun glass.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Great, thanks.”

He throws back the covers. “I’ll get you some pants.”

A moment later, he enters with a pair of his sweatpants. I have to roll them up at the waist and ankles. After finger brushing my hair and teeth, I go down the hallway to join Brian and his family in the kitchen. From the laughter that reaches me before I round the doorframe, it’s a jovial affair.

Music is playing on the radio. Jasmine is frying bacon and eggs while Sam is making toast. Brian is in charge of the coffee.

“Good morning.” Brian’s mother greets me with a warm smile. “I’m Jasmine.”

“Mom, this is Jane.”

“Nice to meet you, Jasmine.”

“The plates and mugs are over there.” She points at a cupboard.

Locating the crockery and cutlery, I set the table while they finish preparing breakfast.

“How was last night?” Jasmine asks when we sit down.

“Fun,” Brian says. He puts rashers of bacon and a slice of toast on my plate.

Sam leans her chin in her hands. “Who all was there?”

“Elbows off the table, young lady,” Brian says. “Just about the whole class from school.”

Sam sits up straight, resting her hands in her lap. “That must’ve been boring. Most of them are losers.”

Brian gives her a warning look.

I laugh. “I got to hear all the interesting stories about your brother.”

Jasmine chuckles. “I can see how that must’ve been fun.”

The ringtone of my phone sounds from the lounge.

I get to my feet. “Excuse me, but it may be my daughter.”

As I suspected, Abby’s name shows on the screen. I close the door, because I can’t explain Brian and his family’s presence, yet. Abby wants to know if she can stay until early evening. She wants to go shopping with Jordan and Loretta for new clothes for Jordan. Since she doesn’t have an exam on Monday, I agree. Time with her best friend will do her good.

“Everything all right?” Brian asks as I reenter the kitchen.

“Fine. It was Abby.” For Jasmine and Sam’s benefits, I add, “My daughter. She’s spending the day with a friend.” Maybe it’s a good opportunity for Sam and I to also do some shopping.

After breakfast, I run the idea past Sam, who’s jumping up and down at the suggestion. Brian is planning on closing himself up in the cellar to study and has no objections. It strikes me as odd that Sam asks permission from Brian and not her mother. Either way, I want to be sure Jasmine is fine with me taking her daughter to the mall, but after I’ve dressed in my clothes from the night before and go look for her, she’s in her room, having what Sam calls her mid-morning nap.

Brian drops Sam and I off at my place to get my car and a change of clothes. Sam walks through the cottage, admiring the stone walls and panoramic views while Brian pulls me into a hug.

He kisses my forehead. “I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll be back before teatime.”

“I’ll keep my phone on. Call if there’s a problem.”

His protectiveness makes me smile. “There won’t be, but thanks.”

He shoves a roll of bills in my hand. “I really appreciate this.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

I’m not a big shopper, but Sam’s excitement is contagious, plus I get why this is a big deal for her.

We drive to the Menlyn mall where there are a variety of stores. After visiting five clothing shops and letting Sam try on countless dresses, T-shirts, and jeans, we settle on an ensemble of a dress and denim jacket with sandals. The color compliments her eyes and skin tone, and the style is versatile enough to be worn to casual parties or fancier events like weddings. My gift is a pair of earrings to match. After hot chocolate and carrot cake at Mugg & Bean, we call it a day, tired but happy. We’ve accomplished our mission.

It’s just after four when I drop off Sam. She scurries into the house with her loot, unpacking everything on the kitchen table for Jasmine to admire.

“That’s pretty,” Jasmine says, holding the dress up to Sam’s body. “You’re going to look beautiful.” She hands Sam the dress. “Put it in the hamper. We’ll rinse it before you wear it, and go put away your earrings so you don’t lose them.”

As Sam skips out of the kitchen with her parcels, Jasmine sits down at the table and lights a cigarette.

Since Brian’s truck is in the driveway, I assume he’s still in the cellar. “I’ll go say hi to Brian, and then I must be off. I have to pick up Abby in an hour.”

“Sit.” Jasmine lifts her eyes to me. “If you have a minute.”

“Of course.” I sit down in the chair opposite her.

She tips her ash. “Thank you for what you did for my daughter, today.”

The words are loaded, but even heavier are the words she didn’t say. Thank you for doing what she can’t.

God, what a sad thought. For her sake, for Sam and Brian’s sakes, I hope she’ll seek help. The psychological illness that is driving her to drink and self-imprisonment isn’t going away by itself. I’m not a psychologist, but I know how crippling fear and depression can be. How do I broach the subject without being offensive? I’m a stranger. It doesn’t seem right to meddle in her private affairs. Will she be angry with Brian for confiding in me? Do I dare risk his trust by telling her I know? Before I have time to decide if I should say something, she speaks again.

“I want to apologize for how we first met, or rather for what happened when you first came over. Sam told me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I decide to risk it. “Brian told me what happened.”

She takes a deep drag and crosses her arms. Smoke escapes from her nose when she speaks. “He did, did he?” She blows the rest of the smoke from the side of her mouth. “It’s not your business.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“You seem like a nice person, Jane. I like you.”

“Thanks. I like you, too.”

“If you care about my son, you’ll stay away from him.”

I do a double take. I expect this speech from many people. Why did I think Jasmine’s opinion would be any different?

“He deserves a girl his own age,” she tips her ash again, “someone who can give him children. Someone he can marry and grow old with.”

“What Brian seems to need right now is me,” I say as honestly and respectfully as I can, but there’s truth in her words, and that truth lodges like a splinter in my heart.

I get to my feet. “It’s getting late. Thank you for the breakfast.” I head to the back porch, but her words stop me in the door.

“I’m forty-one.”

She doesn’t need to say more. I’m one year older than her. I don’t look back as I leave the house. I walk straight to the cellar. Brian sits on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees and books open in front of him on the coffee table.

He gets up when I climb down.

“How did it go?”

“Great.” I walk over to him. “Sam’s really happy with her new dress. We got a denim jacket and shoes, too.”

He cups my ass and drags my body against his, letting me feel the erection growing against my stomach.

“I appreciate it, and I know Sam and my mom do, too.”

Flattening my palms on his chest, I push away. “I came to say a quick goodbye. I have to fetch Abby.”

“Hey.” He grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I know you. You’re upset.”

“I have to go.”

“Not until you’ve talked to me.”

“Brian, please.”

“We agreed to always talk to each other.”

“It’s just something I haven’t considered.” No, that’s not true. It’s something I didn’t want to consider.

“What?”

He stares down at me, holding my wrist locked in his fingers. He’s not going to let go until I give him something.

I wet my dry lips. “Do you want children?”

“Not particularly. Do you? I mean you have Abby, but do you want more?”

“What’s the point of bringing more children into this crazy world? What kind of future can we guarantee them with global warming and terrorist attacks happening everywhere?”

He searches my face. “You brought Abby into this world.”

I hesitate, but he deserves the truth. “Abby was an accident.”

“Say it, Jane.”

I frown. “Say what?”

“Tell me the real reason why you don’t want to have kids, and don’t give me some bullshit excuse about global warming or terrorist attacks.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can be honest with me. Always. I’m not going to judge you.”

I look away from his intense gaze that seems to see right through me. The answer isn’t simple, and yet, it is. I just haven’t admitted it to myself. Despite what he said, fear of judgment makes me weak with the fear that he’ll like me less, the fear of losing him. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself. “I’m not the motherly kind.”

His face softens with a smile. “I didn’t take you for motherly kind. You’re more the executive type.”

I try to pull away again, but he holds fast.

“All kinds of people are needed to make the world go round, Jane. It’s okay to not go gaga over a baby. It’s okay to want different things.”

“It’s just…” I chew my lip, searching for the right words. “It makes me feel like a failure as a woman.”

“Don’t. Being a woman doesn’t come with pre-programmed DNA that makes you broody at a certain age. Each person is unique. Why should women have a common trade?”

“Sometimes, I’m not even sure I’m a good mother to Abby.”

He cups my face and tilts my head up to meet his eyes. “Just because she wasn’t planned and you’re going through a rough patch because your family structure is being redefined doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother. You’re being too hard on yourself. You love her. You do everything you can for her. You’re doing your best.”

It’s as if a stone rolls off my chest, and I can breathe again. The uncertainties I’ve guarded for myself feel smaller now that I’ve shared them with him. True to his word, he’s not judging me. He’s not like the men I grew up with who divide roles with clear-cut lines. Women in the kitchen and men around the barbecue. He’s not the norm in so many ways, and my heart beats clearer for it. I know with unmistakable clarity he’s The One.

“Tell me about him,” he says, his hands, eyes, and voice tender.

My body goes rigid. I can’t talk about Evan in this moment. I’m about to say so when he says, “Tell me about your ex.”

The breath goes out of me. Relief flows back into my muscles. I let them go soft, one by one. “Francois is not a bad person.”

“Do you love him?” He wipes a thumb under my eye. “It’s okay if you do.”

I pinch my eyes shut for a moment before forcing out the horrible truth. “Not in the way a wife should love her husband.”

“Why did you marry him?”

Should I tell him? It feels unfair to Francois, but Brian told me about his mother, and if we’re going to be together, he needs to understand the dynamic of the relationship between Francois and me, between Abby and Francois and me, because it will always stand between us.

“What happened?” he asks. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I wasn’t well when Evan died. My parents were still on their way from Cape Town after the news. I went back to the university dorm to wait for them. The doctor had pumped me full of drugs to calm me and help me sleep, and Francois came to my room that night.”

His hands still. I didn’t realize he was stroking my back until now.

His body tenses. “Did he rape you?”

“No. I didn’t want to sleep with him, but I didn’t say no. It was soothing in a kind of way.”

“You were drugged.” He sounds angry. “He took advantage of you.”

“I allowed it.”

“You weren’t thinking straight.”

“It doesn’t matter. It happened, and neither of us can take it back.”

“That’s why you married him? Because you fell pregnant?”

“It seemed like the right thing to do. The only thing to do.”

I was backed into a corner. Fragile. Scared. Weak. I could’ve said no when Francois gave me a ring. It’s not his fault. The guilt for our failed relationship is all mine. Maybe that’s why I’m not fighting him for the house or furniture. The only thing worth fighting for is Abby. I’ve always fought for her, especially when I said yes to a man I didn’t love.

“I do love him,” I confess, “in my way. Like a friend. I would’ve stayed. I would’ve honored my promise.”

“You would’ve settled for second best,” he says gently.

There are many things I wish I could take back, but regret doesn’t allow for weakness. You need to be strong to survive regret. You need to be strong to move on.

“I wish things were different,” I whisper. I wish I could go back to that night in Evan’s house and not have another drink. I wish I’d been strong enough to fight for Abby alone. “I wish I could give you the younger version of me.”

“I don’t want the younger version of you. It won’t be who you are now, because everything that happened to shape you into the person you are wouldn’t have happened.”

“As much as I selfishly want to keep you, you deserve a young woman, someone who can grow old with you, not before you.”

“That won’t be fair to her or any other woman, because I’ll always go to bed with thoughts about you, and my wet dreams will all be about you. Every woman deserves the over-the-top, I’ll-fucking-die-without-you feeling I have for you. I won’t degrade a young girl to second best simply because you reject me, so don’t even think about it. I’d prefer to be alone.”

Leaning against him, I nestle deeper into his embrace. Just when I think there’s nothing more he can give, he surprises me again. He’s like a sky without a ceiling of clouds. The blue stretches into forever and deeper into my soul.

Most of all, now I know I not only can trust him with my body, but also with my heart.