Chapter 19
Britain
I’ve been sitting on the living room couch for two and a half hours now, waiting for him to come back from the marina. It only took 30 minutes for him to get the boat and come get me, but two and a half to take it back? He didn’t say a word when he dropped me off at his dock, and I didn’t say anything to him either. I guess the shoe has dropped, the spell has broken. I just can’t understand how he could honestly be considering having a child with me, already. This is all so new still. Not to mention we lead very different lives, on two very different sides of the country.
I’ve got this sick to my stomach, unease coursing through me. The first half of me is unbelieving that he’s already thinking this seriously about us, and the second half knows he should have been home a while ago. This is why I was against going out with him again in the first place, I knew that nothing could come of this except eventual heartbreak. I had just assumed the heartbreaking part would be all mine, not Liam’s. I guess now is better than later, though. If it already feels like this after such a short amount of time, in five weeks I’m going to be wrecked when I have to leave. And I will have to leave. I still have two kids who live with me, who need me.
What was I even thinking, leaving for six weeks? I’m already a mother, I have the mom guilt to prove it, and right now it’s all I’m feeling. It’s the pit in the bottom of my stomach telling me I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be home, for my kids, not here living some fantasy that doesn’t involve them. I shouldn’t be getting involved with a man who could potentially take me further away from them. I’ve been ridiculous to let this happen, already living with a man, one I hardly know, because he makes me feel good. I’ve learned before that this kind of happiness is fleeting and I’m just living on borrowed time. My kids are not, they are my constant, they’re what I live for. I need to wake up and probably move out of here.
I get up off the couch and head upstairs. I can’t admit to myself what I’m doing, but I am doing it. I have to leave. I pull my blue suitcase out of my closet and open it. I empty the couple drawers he cleared out for me and the few items I’d hung up in my closet, filling it up. I know I’m already crying, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I’m so stupid, so, so stupid to think this could work, that I could do this.
I go to the bathroom and dump the products sitting on the counter top into the cosmetics case, throwing it on top of the stuff I’ve placed haphazardly inside the suitcase. I look down and remember I’m still wearing his clothes. So I take off the sweatshirt, folding it neatly, and place it in his closet. I grab a t-shirt and cardigan from my luggage and throw it on.
I head back downstairs and wait for him to come home. And I wait, and I wait. He’s officially been gone for five and a half hours, and I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried. Like did he get in an accident? Did the boat run out of gas? I wasn’t trying to just leave him without talking to him first, without explaining why I can’t stay, but he’s making it really hard. One more hour, that’s it. I’ll give him one more hour.
I go get Georgia’s box from upstairs and start loading my car. I was feeling sad about leaving, but now I’m just pissed. Like, who just doesn’t come back? I send him a text.
Britain
Are you coming back?
I go get the black suitcase and put it in the car. I check my phone, nothing. Then I get the blue suitcase and put it in the car. I check my phone, crickets. Screw this. I go get my tote bag, closing the front door behind me. I get in my car and I don’t look back. Now I’m really pissed. I’m such an idiot for putting myself in this situation. I head towards town, calling Jess.
“Hey, girl,” Jess answers.
“Hi, so, think you can charter a flight for me out of the regional airport in town?”
“Uh, yeah. But why?”
“Because I’m an idiot and I need to leave this place.”
“Oookay, should we talk about this before you run away?”
“We can, but I don’t want to.”
“Well, start talking because I’m not chartering you a flight until you spill it.”
“Fine, I moved in with Liam after the apartment I was staying in was broken into. It was fucking euphoric for four days. Today, without going into too much detail, he admitted he wants me to have his kids and I froze up. I tried to remind him it’s only been like a week and that I live in another part of the country, but he just doubled down and said he was sure this is what he wanted. And then he just dropped me back off at his house and left. And he’s been gone six hours, and I’ve texted him and he didn’t text back. And I knew this would only lead to heartbreak eventually, so I’m just ripping the bandaid off now. There’s no point in prolonging the inevitable no matter how good or happy I felt. My life is in Virginia, not here.”
“Ookay, there's a lot to unpack there. Do you think maybe it just hurt his feelings that you aren’t feeling the same way as him and he’s taking some time to work through it before he comes back?”
“Maybe, but ultimately that doesn’t change the fact that this would never work and I’m just setting myself up for another heartbreak. Which is why I’m the idiot because I keep allowing myself to get hurt.”
She laughs at me, “Because you’ve had your heart broken, what, twice? Girl, this is life. It’s going to hurt, but if you don’t get out there, you’re going to end up just like Georgia. Alone, every day, because you’re too scared to let anyone in.” Damnit.
“What are you and Carla BFFs now that I’m not there?”
“You should just try. Don’t run away, okay? Everything is okay at home. The girls are good. I’m going to Caroline’s game next week. There’s nothing here for you but a big empty house. And me, but honestly I think you should really get some dick. I’ll always be here, but ‘euphoric’ doesn’t come around all that often. I mean, have you met the men that live in this area?” Now I’m laughing, and crying, because of course I am.
“Shit, well now I have to turn around and hope he still isn’t home so I can unload my car without him knowing.”
“So really, you moved in with him?”
“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want you to think I was crazy or being stupid.”
“I don’t think that. If anything I’m fucking impressed. I’m literally like, GET IT GIRRL. You’re straight-up hot, bad-ass bitch status right now.”
When I get back to Liam’s he’s still not here. I unload the car, and each time I come back out to get another piece of luggage, I’m convinced his car will be there. But it’s not. I get everything back upstairs and start unpacking, again. Any moment, I expect to hear him, but still nothing. I hate this feeling, this uneasy, uncomfortable feeling. It’s the complete lack of control that I hate. I hate that I like him so much that his actions dictate how I feel. I fucking hate it. Luckily, I can hear Carla in the back of my head preaching to me, “growth happens in the uncomfortable, Britain.” I hope she’s right.
I get ready for bed, turn off all the lights, and slide under the heavy duvet. Maybe he’ll be here when I wake up? Who am I kidding, though, I’m not falling asleep. If he comes back, I’ll still be awake. I turn over, putting my back to the door so he won’t know I’m awake when he comes in, and I wait, again.
It’s two in the morning when he finally walks into the bedroom. Still not one text or call from him the entire night. It’s taking everything in me not to roll over and yell at him. His movements sound clumsy, not stealth like he usually is. He gets into the bed, and reaches out for me. The relief that comes from that simple gesture has my stomach dropping and tears forming.
“You fucking left me, Bambi.” I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I’m sure he looked at the rental security cameras or his own doorbell camera now. I don’t say anything, just waiting.
“You cut me today, seeing you with suitcases. I thought that was the end.” He chokes on his last word.
“I came back,” I say. I don’t know what else he wants. He left me, too.
When he doesn’t say anything after a minute, I add, “You left me, too, you know.”
We just lay there in silence for minutes, when he finally speaks again. “I couldn’t come back. I’d just made the biggest idiot of myself and I wanted to give you the chance to leave if you wanted to since you don’t feel the same way as me.” My chest is aching.
“You didn’t make an idiot of yourself, not anymore than I did when I packed up my suitcases just to unpack them an hour later.” I pause. “I like you a lot Liam, too much. And I’m scared because I don’t want to get hurt again and when you didn’t come back today it hurt. I felt like I was getting a glimpse at what to expect when I leave in June.”
“Bambi, I’m not going to hurt you. Is that what you think? That when it’s time for you to leave in June, that I’m just going to say goodbye and be done?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I live in Virginia. I still have joint custody of my kids and that’s where they are, so that’s where I have to be. And you have your work that’s here, and that’s where you have to be. I can’t figure out where we go from there, and I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
It’s a moment before he finally says, “Me too, and I always come to the same conclusion. I’m not giving you up.” There’s a burning low in my belly and an ache in my chest. I don’t say anything, but when he finally pulls me fully into him, I grab his hand and thread our fingers together. I nestle in tighter to him and squeeze his hand. I don’t say anything more and neither does he, but he squeezes right back and I fall straight to sleep.
When I wake up, the room is still as dark as night, but the clock reads 8:45, and Liam’s side of the bed is empty. Holy crap, I slept in, slept in. I get out of bed and head to the ensuite. Liam laid the sweatshirt I put in his closet last night back over my sink counter, making me smile. I go to put it on, but stop. I think I have something better in mind.
Liam
I hop in the gym’s shower after punishing myself with a grueling workout. My attempt at working off all the alcohol and self loathing helped, but I still need to try and get my shit together before going back in the house. I know Britain’s probably up by now, and I need to say sorry. I fucked up yesterday.
I showed my hand too early and it scared her. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Well, that’s not entirely true, I was thinking of her in our bed with a belly, and my hand over it, waiting for kicks. But then I left her. I was hoping she’d leave, and hurt me, so I could start hating her instead of loving her. And she did, but then she came back. She fucking came back and I came home drunk as hell.
I feel like I’m failing miserably with her. I like her so fucking much it hurts, and I don’t know if she feels the same. I think she does, but then clearly not if she turned to ice after I mentioned the idea of her having my child, which fair, it may have been a bit too early to do. I’m just not used to this. I’m used to attraction, not obsession. Fucking hell, Liam.
I wrap a towel around my hips and head back to the house, my clothes smell like sweat and bourbon. I drop them in the mudroom on my way to get coffee, but I’m stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of Britain, in that fucking outfit, in my kitchen. I come up from behind, wrapping my arms around her. She melts right into me, so comfortable with me, she’s like putty in my hands.
“I’m sorry Bambi, I’ll do better,” I whisper in her ear.
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispers back.
“Why are you wearing this?” It’s that pink silk nightgown, the one from the first night we had sex.
“I thought you might like to punish me…in the kitchen.” What the fuck did I do to deserve this?
“I don’t want to punish you, Britain.” Her shoulders drop the tiniest bit from my words, disappointing her. “I do want to ravish you, though. Make you feel good, make my baby come.” I’m running my hands over her silk-clad body, my erection already rock hard. I spin her to face me, pressing a soft kiss on her pink lips. I don’t want her to think every problem can be solved with brute force and fucking. I need to make this up to her more than she needs to make anything up to me.
I lift her gently, setting her on the kitchen island and pushing her to lay down. She looks up at me, questioning.
“I haven’t had breakfast yet, sweetheart.” That’s all I say before pushing her nightgown up to her breasts and feasting on her sweet pussy. She immediately moans, going pliant for me as I tongue her clit aggressively.
“Baby, I love the way you taste.” I could eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My fucking pussy. She makes me crazy with these possessive thoughts. I’ve never wanted to possess anything as much as I do Britain. I want her to be mine, all fucking mine. I’m sucking on her clit when I slip a finger into her soaking wet heat, and she cries out for me.
“Tell me baby, say it, whose pussy is this?” She’s got the dirtiest little mouth, and I need to hear it.
“It’s yours, Liam. All yours.”
“More, baby.” More. I add another finger and thrust harder into her this time, making her moan and cry out.
“You’re the only one who gets me dripping wet. You’re the only one who makes me come with just a tongue. You’re the only one I want filling me up, every fucking day.” Fuck me.
“Good girl.” I pull out my fingers and stand up. I open the junk drawer and grab a condom, rolling the rubber down my length. I grab her hand, pulling her to sit up and motion for her to wrap her legs around me. I pull her onto me as I slide into her and she feels like heaven, like always. I wish, fucking wish, I wasn’t wearing a condom, but I can respect her wishes.
I walk us over to the hallway and pin her against the wall and start thrusting.
“Britain, baby. Just like your pussy is mine, my cock is yours.” I thrust, and pull her down on me at the same time, grinding into her clit. She cries for me, her mouth and her vagina both weeping. “Only yours, baby. You’re the only one who gets me. The only one who drives me mad.” I thrust and grind again. I know she’s close from the way she’s bearing down on me, clenching on me.
“You’re the only one I want, Bambi.” And with my last words and a grind of my hips, she loses it. Screaming for me, writhing on my cock, pulling me tight into her. I’m close, one more thrust, and I lose it, too. I push her hard against the wall and let loose a groan as my body releases the last bit of anger and hurt from yesterday. As I come down, she starts stroking me, running her fingers through my hair, kissing my face softly.
So this is love. My chest is tight and my stomach is on fire. And I realize this could really fucking suck depending how things go. I give her a gentle kiss on the lips, not wanting to reveal anything, and slip her off my cock, setting her feet gently on the floor.
“Don’t get changed, please?” I ask. “I want you in bed all day today.” Her cheeks go pink and she nods her head in response. “Also, what do you want on your pizza?” She turns back to look at me, confused.
“For our Harry Potter marathon, in bed. What kind of pizza?” She just bursts out laughing, heading for our bedroom upstairs.
“Sausage, please.” She gives me a sly smirk, a wink, and nearly floats up the stairs. My love, please don’t ruin me.