CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
S TEFANIE
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A FTER SIGNING THE CONTRACT , and then using my tongue to write my first, middle, and last name across Julian’s cock, we spent the rest of the morning in bed, sealing the deal. We had to reheat breakfast because it was cold by the time we came up for air.
Over the next few weeks, it didn’t take long for us to fall into a routine that he and I were comfortable with. In fact, we were more than comfortable. It was like we’d been living together for years.
And he kept up his end of the deal, taking care of me and making sure my days were as stress-free as possible. And I kept up my end, working on my novel and taking breaks when he told me to.
Every morning, I woke tangled in Julian’s arms. My room now had a new smell. The scent of his body wash clung to my sheets. And every morning when he left for work, the smell of his cologne lingered after he was gone.
Sometimes, I sprayed it around the house long after he’d left so the scent could still be in the air as I worked on my book. The sound of his key in my door got me excited every afternoon.
And on the days he came home around noon to eat me for lunch, I had this pussy waiting on him, knowing his sweet tooth demanded he get a taste of her so he could focus while at work. Needless to say, I was becoming obsessed with Julian Cattaneo.
Some mornings, he kissed me awake, slow kisses that wandered from my collarbone to my hips, his mouth teasing me awake. Other days, he wasn’t so patient. He'd flip me onto my stomach, lift my hips, and sink into me without a word. I’d still be half-dreaming but already desperate for him as he fucked me awake.
And not once did I ever tell him no. Not when he carried me into the shower and pressed me against the tile, fucking me until my knees buckled. Not when he dropped to his knees after breakfast, buried his face between my thighs, and ate my pussy until I couldn’t stand.
Not even when I was sitting in bed, tapping away at my laptop, and he decided my panties were distracting him and needed to come off right then and there . He’d laid next to me, slowly playing with my pussy as I wrote a steamy scene.
Best inspiration ever!
I never said no to Julian Cattaneo. I said more. Because that’s what I craved. More Julian. More days with him and his adorable smiles. More mind-shattering sex that left me panting and not knowing what day it was.
More of this wild, breathtaking happiness that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, it could last past this summer. Mornings became a routine of slow kisses and even slower breakfasts with Julian standing bare-chested in my kitchen, flipping pancakes while tossing me a grin that made my stomach flip every time I caught myself staring.
Afternoons were for work. I'd camp out at the dining room table with my laptop open, coffee cooling beside me, and the teddy bear he’d given me sitting across the table just in case he wanted to log into the bear’s app and chat with me while he was working.
Julian always left after breakfast, dropping a kiss on my temple before whispering something filthy in my ear about what he'd do to me once he got home. Then he was gone, off to work, and his absence made the house feel emptier, quieter.
As for my writing, some days, the words poured out of me, fueled by the echo of his hands, his voice, the memory of his mouth. Other days, I’d stall. I’d sit there, staring at the blinking cursor, stuck between scenes, not knowing which direction to take the characters.
When that happened, I'd pull out my phone, scroll through the secret pictures I'd taken of Julian. Pics of him flipping pancakes. Pics of Julian stretched out sleeping next to me. Pics of him laughing as we talked.
Pics of him mowing the yard while I worked in the flowerbed. Somehow, staring at those images would help me break through the block, and the words would spill out again. Julian was becoming more than just my research buddy and my inspiration for my story.
He was now a part of my life. And I couldn’t imagine going back to the days when he wasn’t beside me or just a phone call away. One Friday afternoon, I was deep into a steamy scene: my heroine was pinned against a shower wall by the man who worshiped her like she was his last breath, when my phone buzzed beside me.
It was my mom. I smiled and snatched the phone up, already saving my doc so I could close my laptop to chat with my mom.
“Hey, my beautiful queen bee,” I answered on the third ring.
“Hey, baby,” she greeted. “I just got off the phone with my little ladybug and decided to give my little butterfly a call too.”
“Please tell me you didn’t send her any money, ma.”
“No. I didn’t. I called because she sent me some money through the app thing on my phone.”
I laughed. My mom still wasn’t too fond of technology and sending money through apps. But she was getting the hang of it thanks to her ladybug, India.
“India sent you money?” I asked.
“Yes. That sweet child sent me fifty dollars and told me not to cook dinner today. She told me she’d ordered me some food and it was going to be delivered in a few minutes. And she told me to use the fifty when I go to bingo.”
I laughed. She’d sent me money yesterday, too. She’d also ordered some desserts from my favorite bakery and had them shipped to the house. I’d told her to stop sending me stuff and to save the money she was making from her job.
“She’s the sweetest little thing,” my mom said.
“I know, right. How are you doing, ma?”
“I’m doing well. How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” I said, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Really good, actually.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end.
“I expected you to spend thirty minutes telling me all the reasons you were considering making my little tabby cat quit her job and come home for the summer. But you haven’t complained yet.”
“I miss her, ma. But she’s growing up. She wants to earn money and be independent. I don’t want to be the one who hinders her growth. Plus, I went to visit her this past weekend. She and I had a lunch date, and I took her shopping. Then we went to Barnes & Noble and bought a bunch of books to read this summer. She loves her coffee shop job. I even stopped by the shop while she was working, and she made me a coffee complete with coffee art. She’s doing well, plus Ronnie is keeping an eye on her.”
“You’re handling this separation far better than I expected,” Mom said.
“I’m trying,” I said.
“You sound happy,” she mused, suspicion laced in every syllable.
I chuckled, pressing my palm over my mouth like that could somehow hide it. “I am, ma.”
Another pause, longer this time.
And then, in that knowing way only mothers seemed to master, she said, “There’s a man, isn’t there?”
I groaned, burying my face in my hand, laughter spilling out anyway. “Maybe.”
“Don’t you maybe me,” she teased, voice lilting with delight. “I know that laugh. I haven’t heard it in a long time. But I know it. I know you. You’ve met someone, haven’t you? Someone you actually like?”
“Ma, stop being nosey,” I teased.
“Nosey? Me? You have my doorbell app on your phone, so you can watch my house.”
“That’s only for emergencies, ma. And I only check it at night to make sure no one’s trying to break in. You live alone. I worry about you.”
“You’re my daughter. I can be nosey. Tell me everything about the man. Is he good to you?”
I shifted in my chair, heart racing, not sure if I was ready to tell her yet.
“Tell me, Stefanie. Don’t worry. I won’t tell Indi. I’ll let you tell her when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, ma,” I whispered, and then I told her about Julian.
I told her how he made me laugh until my stomach hurt. How he looked at me like I was something precious instead of someone broken. How he noticed the small things no one else ever bothered to see.
How he listened, really listened, not just with his ears, but with his heart. I didn’t tell her about the contract. Or the scandalous sex. But I told her enough. Enough that when I finally stopped rambling, she let out a soft sigh.
“I’m so glad, Stefanie,” she said, and this time there was no teasing, just pure, earnest love. “You deserve to be loved right. You deserve to be happy, baby.”
“Thanks, Mama,” I whispered.
“Let me give you a word of advice,” she said. “Don’t compare him to that bad seed you were married to. Don’t punish him for someone else’s mistakes. And don’t let the past dictate your present. Let yourself love openly and without holding back. Don’t run from it. Promise me you won’t push away something good because you’re scared it might not last or that it may end up like your last relationship.”
I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. I was trying not to do that.
“I’ll try,” I said, and meant it. But there were still some things I needed to settle before I could love him openly and without restraint.
“Another thing you need to do,” my mom started. “Is cut ties with that bastard’s family.”
I already knew who she was talking about. Archie’s family.
“Ma...” I said, only to have her cut me off.
“Stefanie, when you decided to raise India, I was against it at first. Your dad was, too. But when we saw her little face, all of that changed. She became a part of me, just like you’re a part of me. She’s my granddaughter, and I love her more than anything. I’ll do anything for her.”
“I know, ma,” I said, feeling like this conversation was going to erase my good mood.
“But,” she continued. “The same can’t be said about his family. They want access to her only because that gives them access to you . On the day she was born, they didn’t want to take her home with them. They didn’t want to adopt her. Not one person on that side wanted that baby. And his mistress, well, she didn’t have any family. That left you.”
“Ma...”
“And his family pressured you into keeping the adoption agreement, even after you learned that the woman you’d been taking care of for months, the woman you and Archie were adopting a baby from, was actually that man’s mistress the entire time.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, her words bringing back my emotions from that day. Me, learning that all the money my dad had given me after I’d gotten married, the money I’d been saving in case of an emergency or in case we fell on hard times, all of it had been removed from the account. Every penny.
And when I tried calling Archie, he didn’t answer. I’d come home, and the first thing I noticed was that everything in the closet was gone. Even some of my things, like my jewelry and designer bags, which I’d worked hard to buy for myself, were gone.
But he hadn’t touched the baby room I’d put together for the child we were adopting. The bastard had actually left me a note pinned to the baby bed that said: This isn’t working out. I tried to love you, but I can’t. Let’s end it before we start hating each other. You can sell the baby stuff and make some money off it.
That letter had sent me into a rage. But at that time, I still hadn’t known he was leaving me for the woman who’d smiled in my face, who’d been in my home, who’d I’d cooked for almost every day during her last months of pregnancy because Archie suggested we be nice and take care of her and the baby we were adopting from her.
Like a fool, I’d taken care of his mistress and their child for months as she smiled in my face and told me how good of a wife I was and how I was going to be a great mom. And how she couldn’t have chosen a better family to leave her baby with. That motherfucking bitch! No, that husband-fucking bitch.
So no, I hadn’t wanted to keep the adoption agreement. I hadn’t wanted to bring India home with me. But his family threatened to make it public, how I’d adopted a child, and how I no longer wanted to keep the agreement.
Even the adoption agency pressured me into keeping the agreement, stating that it was a binding contract and I’d have to go to court if I wanted to break it. And though I knew I was in the right, I’d still given in to the pressure because I hadn’t wanted the negativity to affect my job, which was all I’d had left.
“Even knowing what their son had done,” my mom continued. “Those people still wanted you to raise that child. Even threatened to sue you, stating that some part of the adoption agreement would be violated if you didn’t take the child. They didn’t care that he’d been in the process of leaving you when the wreck happened. They didn’t care that you weren’t emotionally stable enough to take care of a baby right then. All they cared about was keeping close ties with you. Because it was you who’d been helping them out financially when Archie told them no, and it’s been you who’s been helping his brother all these years after every start-up he’s created has failed.”
“Ma, what are you getting at right now, because the only thing this conversation is doing is bringing down my mood.”
“That’s not my intent, sweetie. My intent is to tell you that those people will forever interfere in your life if you don’t find a way to cut ties with them. And that could hurt your new relationship. No man wants to deal with his woman’s ex-in-laws.”
“I know, ma. But if I break ties with them, they’ll tell India that I’m not really her mother.”
“You raised her, Stefanie. You loved her when they wouldn’t even claim her. You’re her mother in every way that matters.”
“I know, ma. But they also will try to tell her that they think I had something to do with the car accident.”
“The first time I heard his mother say that, I cursed her ass out. There’s no way you had anything to do with the accident. You didn’t hear about the wreck until the hospital called you. You didn’t know that woman was his mistress until you learned that he’d died in the wreck, and that she was in surgery having an emergency C-Section done.”
That wasn’t entirely true. I’d been the first to know about the wreck. In fact, I’d caused the wreck. But my mother could never know that. Never!
“Cut ties with them. And tell them that you’ll tell her the truth about her dad, and I will too, if they try to tell her she’s not yours. I’ll tell her all the things they said at that hospital after she was born. About how they didn’t want to raise a half black child. About how she wouldn’t fit in with the other kids if his sister adopted her. They don’t want her to know that. And they wonder why you won’t let them spend time alone with her. They can’t be trusted. And I don’t like how that brother of Archie’s looks at her now that she’s maturing.”
“I’ve told India to never go anywhere alone with him and to call me if she sees him. I don’t like how he looks at her either, ma.”
“That family ain’t right. They claim to be God-Fearing, but ain’t no God in them. Let them go. And if you need me to be there with you when you do it, I’ll make that drive.”
“Ma, I can handle it.”
“Okay. Do it, Stefanie. India will be fine without them. It’s not like they’ve ever done anything for her before. When you needed a babysitter when she was sick, I took care of her for you. They wouldn’t lend a hand at all. She’s not close to those people. It’s okay if they’re not in her life.”
“I’ll take care of it, ma. Let’s talk about something happy because my mood has tanked.”
“I’ve got something happy we can talk about,” Mom said.
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“So... have you and this man had sex yet?”
“We are not doing this, ma! Nope. I’m not telling you,” I added when she insisted.
“Why not? Ronnie talks to me about his dates.”
“That’s because Ronnie is insane. I’m not telling you anything, so don’t ask, young lady,” I told her.
And then she started telling me about a guy at church who liked her, and I knew it was time to end the call because I couldn’t handle hearing my mother talk like that. We talked a little longer about India and my writing until one of my mom’s friends called on the other line, and mom told me she’d talk to me later.
I sat there for a long time afterward, staring out the window, mood still dampened from the call. But my mom was right. Archie’s family was on my list of things to handle before I could start anything serious with Julian.
Summer was in full swing, and I hadn’t started on the list yet. I’d been avoiding it, enjoying my time with Julian. But now it was time to focus on getting my life together. The first step was the Adams family.
Setting boundaries with Archie’s family without completely eliminating them from India’s life was the plan, unless they refused to handle things my way. If they refused, I’d have to cut them off completely. What terrified me was India learning that she wasn’t mine.
I used to have nightmares about that happening. I knew my child. I knew if she learned she was the daughter of an abusive man and his mistress who tricked me into an adoption agreement, she wouldn’t hate me, she’d hate herself.
It would change how she saw herself, what she thought of herself. I’d raised her to be a confident young woman and to always believe in herself. I’d raised her never to let anyone walk all over her and to always stand up for herself.
I’d raised her to be driven, goal-oriented, and to never let anyone silence her voice. But if she learned the truth, that would break her. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen. I had to protect my secrets, not for myself. But for my child.