Chapter 37 #2
“I don’t know,” he exhales. “Feels like forever.”
His eyes fall to my mouth as he leans in and flattens his palm over my chest. My lips twitch against his feathering fingertips, and he brings his mouth dangerously closer to mine. “I loved you, Elijah… still do… always will.”
My heart flutters wildly against his open palm. I’ve waited years to hear those words again. With that urgency behind them that seeped deep into my heart.
“I want to kiss you,” Gabriel whispers softly near my lips. His breath feels like feathers being dragged across my mouth—lip balm our only barrier. “Let me kiss you.”
“I’m with Alex now,” I mutter, gritting my teeth.
“Mm, well, he can join us.” His thumb passes over my nipple, and I draw in a breath, shuddering from sensory overload. He flattens his palm over my pec, causing that muscle to jump against his hand. Those stormy gray eyes turn dark, and I swear to fucking God I almost get lost in the darkness.
I shake my head, fighting this urge of all urges not to kiss him, because damn do I want to shove my tongue down his throat and reclaim him all over again.
Let him know that I still love him the same, maybe more, and that I never stopped.
Ever. But… I reach for his hand that’s resting over my broken heart. “There is no more us, Gabriel.”
It doesn’t surprise me in the least that he so brazenly suggested a threesome.
Having other men join us in our bed was something we enjoyed as a couple.
I was strictly a top, but Gabriel was vers, and as much as he enjoyed bottoming, he also took pleasure in topping.
By no means did we have an open marriage, though, more like a play date from time to time.
With conditions, of course. No kissing, no feelings, no overnighters…
just a simple, no-strings-attached, fuck.
But now, I want to tear down the fucking walls in our home because we could have worked through this nightmare had he only trusted me.
We could have fought this fight together.
He knows I would have kept his secret and protected our family.
For God’s sake, I would have done anything to protect us. Damn it! I would have chosen us!
I would have chosen us!
I take a step back, letting his arm drop down to his side. “We need to tell Alex. He’s under the impression that you slept with Meera,” I divulge. “He thinks you have a child together.”
“He what?” He gasps, salacious eyes now shocked silly. If this wasn’t such a serious conversation, his expression would have been comical. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve never fucked a woman in my life.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I stare straight into his wide eyes.
And then… I stare right into hazel ones.
ALEX
“Alex!” Elijah startles, causing Gabriel to spin around and just about knock noses with me. My fist lands squarely in the middle of Gabriel’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.
“You motherfucker!” I slam my knee into his face as he bends at the waist, clutching his stomach.
“Oooph…” he huffs.
Elijah tackles me, causing my back to crash into the glass.
He pins me to the window with his thick forearm.
Veins bulge from his neck. Breath hot and heavy on my cheek.
Surprisingly, he’s winded, like he was the one I’d just brought down to his knees.
I glance over his shoulder at a stunned Gabriel.
In all honesty, I’m quite stunned myself. Not only by Gabriel’s confession, but by the fact that I just slammed my fist into his body. What the ever-loving heck?
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel cries from the floor, dragging his hair away from his face.
Thank God there’s no blood, but a dark red bruise is beginning to form along his cheekbone.
“I never meant for this to happen, Alex. You have to believe me. God, I’m sorry.
I’m so fucking sorry,” he babbles, getting to his knees, tears running over his quivering lips.
As bad as I feel for hitting him, if I could spit on him, I would, but I can’t because Elijah still has me hemmed up against the glass. So I glare instead, finding him so goddamn annoying… and fucking attractive at the same time.
Christ.
His attractiveness is annoying.
“Get the fuck off me,” I growl, and Elijah loosens the pressure of his forearm against my neck.
I pull in a breath and shake out my hand before bringing it up to my face, fingering my sore cheekbone.
The gash luckily hasn’t reopened. Elijah slides his hands down to my waist, trusting that I would never hit him.
Jesus, before today, I never would have thought I’d hit anybody.
I swoop my eyes back over to Gabriel, who’s in the midst of getting to his feet and wiping his palms against his pants. He sniffles, and I cringe.
“Talk to me, Alex?” he pleads.
I wrestle out of Elijah’s hold and head for the door. “I’m leaving.”
“Alex, wait!” Gabriel shouts, taking off after me, rounding the corner at the same time I’m stepping onto the lift.
“Hi Mr. J! Are you—”
“Jesus Christ!” I jump back, startled by Ana’s sudden appearance. My back slams against the wall as the elevator doors close. Shaking uncontrollably, I slide down to the floor, desperately trying to catch my breath.
“Oh my god! Are you alright?” She drops to her knees and reaches for me, cradling my face in her palms. Her thumb traces the gouge on my cheek, and pain sears through my brain, even at her soft touch, making me squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m calling my dad!”
“No! Don’t do that!” I shake out my sore knuckles and lunge forward, jabbing at the emergency button, bringing the elevator to a sudden halt.
Ana’s eyes widen. “Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands in surrender, like I’m holding her hostage at gunpoint. In some ways I am, minus the gun. But I need this moment to calm the fuck down. Bad timing on my part. Hers too. If I could only pull myself together then—
Umph. She plops down beside me and places a shaky hand on my forearm. I feel her anxiety vibrating through every single layer of my skin. “Listen, Mr. J. I’m used to the gay drama—really, I am—but this… this… this…”
Jesus. What have I done?
I lift my eyes to hers and wince when brilliant green ones stare back at me. Just like her mother’s. How the hell did I ever not see the similarities? Probably because I was never looking. But now that I am… Jeesus.
“It’s okay, Mr. J. We’ll figure this out. What can I do to help you?”
You’re already helping, I want to say. With her calm demeanor and the way she so quickly composed herself, she’s managed to knock me down a notch and quiet my unease. She definitely did not inherit that coolheaded gene from me. I’m anything but cool.
Her other hand skates smoothly across her thigh, and I place my non-injured hand on top of hers.
Smiling, she drops her gaze down to our hands before slowly turning hers over, slipping her palm out from underneath mine, as if showing one’s cards.
The puzzle piece.
My breath catches. I contemplate counting to eleven, but I can’t remember how to count. Plus, I don’t want to scare her more than I already have. So I continue to stare instead.
“Papi’s fascinated with it.”
My eyes dart up to hers.
One one thousand, two one thousand… “I, um, can see why.” Three one thousand, four…
As I count, I drag my fingertips across the center of her palm. I can’t believe what I’m seeing—the missing link to my puzzle. Never would I have imagined this girl would be holding the piece to complete the puzzle. And not only does the puzzle piece belong to me… but so does she.
Fucking Meera.
Ana closes her hand around my fingers, still tracing her birthmark. She smiles and nods. “You okay there?”
Five one thousand, six one thousand… “Yes.” I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, forgetting all about my counting as I remove my fingers from her grip.
“I, um… I’m sorry I scared you, sweetheart.
Do you mind if we just sit here for a moment?
Maybe talk? I just need to… t-take in some fresh air. ”
“Pretty sure the air is fresher outside this box. But, hey, it’s cool, Mr. J. I can totally chill in here with you. So, what should we talk about?”
Good question. I know what I want to say, just have no clue how to execute it. As I think about how to construct a sentence, Ana silences her phone and drops it into her lap.
“Do you ever think about your parents?” I blurt out, then hold my breath.
“Sure. All the time. Why do you ask?” She shakes a mint out from the plastic dispenser she pulled from her pocket, pops it in her mouth, and then offers one to me.
I shake my head. “Just curious. What can you tell me about them?”
Ana snorts—loudly. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I’m always serious.” I chuckle, but it sounds a little manic.
“Right.” She sits up straighter, dusting the dirt off her palms. “Okay. Well, let’s see. They’re gay… obviously. And Papi can be a real drama queen at times. Actually, more like all the time. Dad says—”
“Ana, sweetheart.” I place my hand on her knee. “I’m not talking about them.”
“Oh. But… you asked about my parents?”
“Yeah. I guess I did. But what I meant is your biological parents. Do you know anything about your real parents?”
Her eyes widen, and I shrink back, afraid I’ve overstepped. “Oh my god. Is this about Emilee? Is she adopted too? It’s funny, cause people tell us all the time that we look alike. I totally don’t see it, but—”
I squeeze her knee and she immediately stops talking. “Ana, no. Emilee is not adopted. She’s mine. One hundred percent.”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry about that. Sometimes I get carried away,” she remarks, wisping the hair back from her forehead. “Not that Emilee would care. She totally digs you. You’re an awesome dad.” Her phone vibrates, and she glances down.
I scratch my head, trying to figure out how to get her to answer my question without being too abrasive. The last thing I want to do is upset her again. I try for a less direct approach. “I guess what I’m wondering is if you’re curious about who your real parents are?”
Unfazed, she brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, resting her chin on top of her knees. “Why would I be? I have real parents. In fact, I have the perfect parents. And biology sucks, by the way.”
Oookay. That came out of left field.
“For instance,” she picks right up. “I want to be an artist, like Papi. But I also want to build my own empire, be my own boss, have employees and shit, like Dad.” She curls her hair behind her ears.
“I’m very business savvy, you know? I’ve also thought about pursuing a career in art therapy. Ever heard of it?”
“Can’t say I have, but I’ve heard of music therapy?”
She points a finger at me. “Exactly! Pretty much the same thing. Art and music can help with a whole range of conditions… and I love helping people.”
I nod, smiling at her.
She smiles back. “See what I’m getting at, Mr. J? All of those traits come from my dads. They’re ingrained in me. I don’t need science to tell me who I belong to. I just need parents—and I already have those.”
Well, that was very matter-of-fact. And mature too. But I still can’t help but wonder... “So, you’re saying you don’t really care if you ever meet your biological parents?”
She ponders for a moment and then shrugs.
“I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t really matter who gave birth to me.
Honestly, I never even think about it.” She pulls on her lower lip and smirks.
“You want to know something? If Papi could get pregnant, he totally would.” She giggles.
“Don’t tell him I said that though. But he really rocks the mom role. ”
For heaven’s sake! I nearly fall to the side laughing, wiping tears from my eyes from laughing so hard. Her sense of humor is so refreshing. I believe I know where she gets it from, too, and it certainly is not Meera… or me.
She hops to her feet and dusts off her hands.
“Well, Mr. J… as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, I really need to pee.
Plus, Dad must be worried sick about us being stuck in this trap.
And Papi is blowing up my phone nonstop.
” She snickers, holding out her phone to show me the onslaught of missed calls and messages running across her screen—all from Gabriel.
“Like I said, drama queen. I guarantee he’s crying too. He’s the king of crying. Pretty sure it’s a gay thing.”
Yeah, it’s something. And I’m so relieved I could almost cry too.