Chapter 19 Poppy #2
“Babe.” I feel Phantom come up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. “You ready?”
I haven’t told Phantom that today is the nine-year anniversary of Michael passing away.
He has enough to deal with getting Shayla off to rehab, keeping the kids calm.
I’m okay; I really am. But I’ve realized over the past two and a half months that the exhaustion I was feeling might have been, at least in part, because I’m carrying so many memories.
Ghosts feel scary and shapeless until you try to hold one in your heart.
Then they just become heavy. And so, so sad.
I turn to Phantom, but I must swipe at a few tears that wet my cheeks.
“Hey.” Phantom pulls me close. He holds me against his chest and doesn’t say anything.
I just breathe in the scent of him, feel the heat of him, the strength of him.
He’s become my safe and happy place. With him, a grunt can mean everything from fuck off to great job.
A single look can say everything. But when it matters, when I need him to, he knows just what to say.
“This is all a lot. Thank you for going through this with me.”
I hug him hard, then reach up and stroke his beard.
I don’t say anything either. I know that he knows what’s in my heart.
What was there is moving, shifting, getting smaller to take up less space.
The love I feel for Phantom and the girls is growing to fill the space with something lighter, something vibrant and alive.
I put on a big smile. “Let’s get the kids.”
Mom and the kids are waiting for us in the lobby of the hotel.
The girls are dressed in cute sweaters and jeans, and Daisy’s wearing new pink high-tops that Jax helped her decorate.
Daisy loops an arm through mine and practically skips out onto the terrace.
Mom walks with Jax, and Phantom has his arm around Holly’s shoulders.
Once we’re seated, the server takes our drink orders and hands out menus.
“I don’t know if they told you when you made the reservation,” the server says, “but there is a small wedding in the hotel tonight. Just sixty people in one of our smaller ballrooms, but you might be able to hear some music if you’re still out here in about an hour. ”
“What kind of music?” Daisy asks, and Holly shoots her a look. “I just want to know. I mean, if it’s good…”
Phantom chuckles and reaches for my knee under the table.
I slide a hand down to cover his and stroke the tops of his knuckles while I skim the menu.
We order our meals, and the mood is quiet.
Holly and Daisy don’t seem to have the energy to bicker, and Jax seems to know no one’s really in the mood to talk.
Mom keeps up a constant flow of conversation, which I actually appreciate because it’s different, not the usual school and work drama. When the kids want to order dessert, Mom pipes up, “Dinner’s on me.” She smiles at Phantom and me. “If it’s okay with your parents, everyone’s ordering dessert.”
I give Mom a look, wondering why she’s doing all this.
Is she just trying to make up for the lost years we had when Jax was tiny and I couldn’t do things like dinners or trips?
I don’t know if she knows the date today.
I know Jax doesn’t know. That’s one thing I didn’t want to burden him with as a child.
We don’t celebrate his dad’s heavenly birthday or the day he passed away.
I do that quietly, by myself. It just seemed cruel to, twice a year, make a child be reminded of what he’ll never have from a man he doesn’t remember.
It’s not like I hid the dates from him, but he’s never asked.
Someday when he’s older, I will ask if he wants to know.
If he does, it’ll be his choice how to celebrate or whether to observe the dates at all.
But I’m sure Mom knows. Just like I’ll never forget her wedding anniversary with my dad, the story of how they met.
While we eat dessert, music does travel from the hotel ballroom out onto the terrace.
It’s typical wedding-reception music, intended to get people up and dancing.
It seems to do the trick for Mom. As soon as she finishes her last spoonful of crème br?lée, she pushes back her chair and heads for the little gate that separates the dining area from the beach.
She kicks off her shoes and motions for the kids to join her. “Come on, Jax. Dance with your grandma.”
Jax looks at me like Mom has lost her mind. I call out, “Mom, that gate locks so people don’t wander in from the beach. If you go out, someone’s got to stay back here to let you in.”
Mom’s got her heels in one hand, and she’s already working her hips, moving closer toward the water in time with the music. “Don’t care,” she says. “I put dinner on my room, and I’ve got a room key.”
Jax looks to me for permission, which I give, and to my surprise, he takes off onto the beach with his grandma. He kicks off his shoes and runs back and forth, picking up shells and wiggling his toes in the surf.
Phantom looks at his kids. “What about you two?”
“What about you two?” Daisy mimics her dad’s gruff voice, and I burst out laughing.
He lifts one brow at her and growls, but she just takes her sister’s hand and says, “We’re going.”
Holly, to my surprise, lets her little sister drag her onto the beach.
Daisy immediately starts dancing with Mom, kicking up her arms and legs like a loon.
Holly has the good sense to look embarrassed for about five seconds, but after glancing around and seeing there’s only a handful of people in the restaurant and our family dancing on the beach at sunset on a cool, late-fall night, she grabs Jax’s hands and starts spinning him in circles.
Mom is a one-woman dance party out there, leading the kids in what looks like a lot of fun. I sip the last of my wine and watch them, absently rubbing my finger over my tattoo.
“I can’t decide if I want to join them or ditch ’em,” Phantom says as he looks out over the beach.
“Same,” I laugh.
The stars sparkle over us as the night grows later, the sky as dark blue and brilliant as Phantom’s eyes.
“Both?” he asks. “One dance then back to our room before we get dragged into the game room or a movie?”
I get up from the table and take his hand. I kick my heels off once we hit the sand, and Phantom toes off his motorcycle boots. We leave them by the restaurant gate, and Phantom puts his hands around my waist. I wrap my arms tight around him and rest my cheek against his shoulder.
We sway to the music while our kids jump and dance around us. Mom’s white hair glitters under the moonlight.
I look up at the stars and, instead of imagining Michael, see midnight-blue eyes. The deepest smile. A black beard that tickles my cheek when he lowers his lips to kiss me.
I say a little prayer for Michael. I hope he’s at peace. I hope he knows that, just like Holly and Daisy saying goodbye to their mother, goodbye doesn’t mean you stop loving the person. Not having them in your life every day doesn’t mean there isn’t still room for them in your heart.
I must let him go. Once and for all. I have to release the love I once had and embrace the love I do have.
This isn’t goodbye forever, I think. This is just what it looks like to finally heal.
By the time we get up to the room, even the wedding music has stopped. My toes are sandy, and the kids are sweaty. Mom agrees to let the girls watch a movie in the room she’s sharing with Jax, and she assures me she’ll get Holly and Daisy to bed after the movie.
She lets the kids get off the elevator first, holding back a little while the girls and Jax run off toward their connected rooms. She turns to Phantom.
“I’m learning to be a little more like you,” she says.
She gives him a long hug. “Sometimes you don’t need to say anything, but you’ve communicated so much. ”
When she pulls back from the hug, she reaches up and cups his face, nods, and then turns to me. She gives me a hug as well, and I thank her for everything.
When she pulls back, I see something in her eyes. Tears. “This may not be the life I pictured for you,” she says, “but that’s okay. It’s better than even the best I could have imagined. I’m proud of you.”
Then she runs, still barefoot and holding her heels, down the hallway after the kids. “Wait up,” she yells. “Grandma Lori smuggled in microwave popcorn!”
Phantom looks at me, his eyes wide.
I just shake my head.
“I have absolutely no words,” I tell him.
We hold hands and head to our room. Inside, we’re both quiet.
Unusually quiet. I’m sure he’s got a lot on his mind with Shayla and sending her off to rehab.
My mind and heart are full too. I wash off my sandy toes in the bathroom and change into a sleep tee and shorts.
I brush my teeth, then join Phantom on the balcony.
He holds me and looks out over the water.
“I love you,” he says quietly. “You know that, right?”
I nod. “I love you too.”
“Kids are down the hall. Can’t hear a thing. You want to fuck?” he asks.
I look up into his face, giving him a wide-eyed stare. “Are you serious?” I ask him. “We’re wasting time.”
He scoops me up in his arms and carries me inside the room.
He sets me on my feet as soon as we’re inside the sliding glass door and leans me against the wall.
He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me gently, his mouth exploring mine.
He tastes like wine and dinner and that intoxicating combination of his scent.
I fumble my hands all over his body, grabbing his back and pulling him closer as our kisses grow more intense.
Our tongues tangle, and my body thrums to life, all sadness and memories safely packed away in the small space I’m going to keep for them. All I can see is Phantom, this life, and possibilities. All I can feel is his love. And his incredibly hard cock pressing against his fly.
I reach down to unzip him, and he yanks my top over my head.
He drops to his knees to tug off my shorts.
While I’m standing pressed against the wall, I spread my legs wide enough that he can fit his face between my thighs.
He kisses the tender skin of my inner thighs with his mouth, scraping and scratching my legs with his beard, his chin driving me into an aroused frenzy.
I love his friction. His hard and soft parts. His groans and nibbles, growls and kisses.
He stands again and scoops me up, carrying me to the bed. He takes all his clothes off while I watch, appreciating his muscles, his tattoos. The dark hairs that cover his legs and chest.
“Open for me,” he demands, and I do.
I lie back and spread my legs, and he dives between my thighs.
He takes his sweet time on me, first kissing my thighs more until my clit is throbbing with need.
When he finally sweeps his tongue between my legs, I gasp.
He sucks my clit into his mouth and slides two fingers inside me, working his way through my wetness to stroke the tender spots deep within my body.
I lie there boneless, taking in all the pleasure he wants to give me. My eyes are closed, and I let the already familiar bliss transport me to a place where there are only the two of us. Him, deep inside me, as close to the most intimate parts of me as anyone can be.
“I want it rough.” I struggle to get the words out through my heavy breaths. “Fuck me hard, Phantom. I want to feel everything,” I pant, coming so close to going over the edge just from his tongue and fingers. But I don’t want to fall apart just yet.
He slides on a condom that I didn’t even know he had and then spreads my legs wide open.
“Better than dessert,” he says.
I groan. “Better than crème br?lée?”
“Ever damn day of the week.”
He enters me slowly, rocking his hips and sliding his cock deep inside me, taking his time.
He’s kneeling so he can watch himself enter my body.
His lips are parted, his eyes dark, but he doesn’t speed up.
Doesn’t fuck me hard until I can’t think or see.
Until I can’t tell if I’m numb or feeling everything.
“Get on top and fuck me,” he says.
He sits at the top of the bed with his legs straight, and I climb over his lap.
The hotel bed has a headboard, so I grip it with my hands.
That puts my breasts right at mouth level, and Phantom doesn’t hesitate.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth hard, the exquisite pleasure tinged with the tiniest edge of pain.
I need this. Need him. Need to push out the power and emotion that are inside my body. I grab the headboard harder for leverage, and with Phantom’s mouth still sucking, I start to ride him.
I move slowly at first, finding just the right spot, but once I feel it, the length of him inside me, the base of his shaft putting the perfect pressure on my clit when I roll my hips, I move faster.
A wild need unleashes inside me, and I thrust hard against him.
I yank the headboard hard and power my body against his, harder, faster, until the headboard bangs rhythmically against the wall with every brutal jerk of my hips.
“Don’t stop.” Phantom’s panting hard against my breasts, his hair flopping as I work out my need, my desire, my frantic chase for bliss against his body. “Fuck yes, Poppy.”
When I finally come, the climax builds so fast, hits me so hard, I cry out. My nipple is still in Phantom’s mouth, and I’m still moving, shaking, grinding, lost to bliss, fullness and emptiness all at the same time.
I realize as I slow down that he’s coming too, emptying inside me.
He curses under his breath and bangs his head back against the headboard, his hips lifting to meet mine.
When the orgasms fade, I stay on top of Phantom, sweaty and breathless.
My wet chest sticks to his, and I bury my face against his shoulder.
“That was a first,” he says, his voice sounding a little shocked. “Am I a bottom now?”
I let out a weak giggle. I feel too good to think. Too good to analyze. “As long as we can do that again, who cares?”
“I’m going to need a minute, but fuck yeah.” He helps me and my exhausted legs off him, peels off the condom, and we spoon together naked under the blankets.
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Poppy,” he says. Then, immediately, he starts to snore.
I smile and close my eyes, listening to him breathe. I used to be exhausted by life in the worst possible ways. Everything felt hard, and I never felt good enough to live up to even the lowest expectation. I fall asleep smiling and exhausted in the best ways.
I’m full of love.
I’m happy.
I’m finally starting to believe it.