6. Honoria
Chapter Six
Honoria
Jim didn’t want more custody, he wanted less. I breathed a sigh of relief as the paperwork change was approved. Molly was mine every weekday and every other weekend. Jim didn’t even ask for overnights. He only wanted an opportunity to be with her some afternoons and his designated weekends.
In such a callous world, this change was a miracle. To celebrate, I went right out and bought a little ramp to put at the end of my bed so Molly could climb on my mattress any time she wanted. Fuck his rules. I was tired of sleeping alone anyway.
Molly loved it.
My dry cleaner did, too.
And I found a seat extension that turned the back seat of my BMW into Molly’s cushioned safe zone. It was a heck of a lot cheaper than buying a new car.
Lemon was great. The doggie daycare situation worked out so Jim could pick her up three days a week, except Fridays, and drop her off at my house when he was done taking her to the dog park.
Denise was restricted to light activity for her final two months, so she appreciated the new couch and the lack of dog hair everywhere. Molly adjusted to the new routine quickly. And I was in heaven, finally having more time with her.
Everyone was happy.
That should have been an omen.
I should have paid attention to the date.
In the middle of January. I worked late at the office because it was Jim’s night. I got a call and checked the ID displayed. “Lemon, what can I do for you?”
“Jim didn’t show.”
I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. “I’m so sorry. You should have called me sooner.” I grabbed my briefcase and stuffed my work inside.
“No worries, it’s just that I’ve got a class in twenty minutes and I can’t guarantee that Wombat’s going to stick around.” She sounded apologetic.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Will he be able to stay until I get there?”
We’d barely talked during his final hearing. And he went out of his way to avoid me outside of the courtroom.
“Hang on,” her muffled tones were answered by his lower ones.
A tingle of arousal I hadn’t felt in a while shot through my pussy. Not the time. I reminded myself. I shoved the last of the folders into my briefcase and grabbed my coat from the hook while juggling the phone.
Finally, Lemon came back on. “He’ll be here. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be there soon.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you going out of your way for me on this.”
She hung up the call, and I marveled at how I’d absolutely lucked out to find such an accommodating family for Molly’s care. If anyone should apologize, it should be me.
Scratch that. It should be Jim.
Halfway to the farm, my phone rang again. I patched it through the car’s speakers, expecting an update from Wombat or Lemon.
It was Jim. “We’re at the hospital.”
We’re. We are. Him and Denise. It was so tempting to yell at him for forgetting Molly. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s in labor.” Jim sounded excited. And happy.
I pulled the car into the emergency lane and turned my flashers on. My extremities were tingling, and my vision had blurred. It took an act of sheer will to squeeze out, “I— I— oh. I’m picking up Molly. Um…”
“Oh shit, I forgot. Denise’s water broke and—”
The rest of his words didn’t make sense because I couldn’t breathe.
Belatedly, I put the car into park so it wouldn’t lurch forward again if I took my foot off the brake.
Then, my breathing came back too fast.
Jim was still talking. Thanking me for being understanding and that he’d let me know if it was a boy or a girl.
With that, he hung up.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t wail. The sounds inside me wouldn’t break free. My cheeks were wet. The car rocked from the gust of wind pushed along by a large truck as it zipped past.
A boy or a girl.
My body shook. I stared at the barren winter landscape and the cars that rushed past me.
The world was oblivious to me. I was nothing to it.
Nothing to my husband—ex husband. He’d replaced me with an upgraded model.
One complete with a womb that fucking worked right.
I lifted my hands off the steering wheel to push away the expectations crowding around me like a swarm of ghosts.
But I couldn’t shove the negativity away. It bubbled up from inside me. I was toxic. A mess. Worthless. I’d never get what Denise was experiencing right now.
“I hate you.”
The words came out as a whisper. The trouble was, I didn’t know if I was saying them about Jim, Denise, their child, or myself.
Another car whooshed past, jarring me from the loop of anguish. I had to pick up Molly. “I have a purpose.”
God. Jim was right. When he’d brought her home, he said something like, “You need someone to love.”
“That god-dammed-motherfucker.” I hated that he was right.
Anger was good. It cleared my eyes and put fire in my veins. It sustained me until I turned onto the driveway to Lemon’s. I drove slowly in case the dogs were out.
Sure enough, Wombat had DA and Molly off their leashes.
But they were in the fenced-off section where the larger dogs played and the yard lights dispelled the gloom.
He picked up a stick and threw it as far as he could.
DA ran at full speed. Molly hung back, opting for a burst of speed right at the end to snatch the stick from DA and trot back to Wombat.
I watched her from where I’d parked. She was beautiful. Even as DA tried to tug it from her, she kept her head high. Her silky coat rippled in the wind.
I bit my lip.
You need someone to love.
He must have known that I didn’t love him anymore.
He’d given up on me, on us, on our family, and bought me a dog as a replacement.
I hated him for being so damn perfect.
Wombat noticed the car and waved. He gathered both dogs. He clipped DA to a chain and got Molly’s leash before he led her out of the enclosure.
That gave me enough time to wipe my eyes and check my makeup in the visor mirror. I was a mess. I shoved my smeared mascara upward so the streaks faked a haphazard wing at the corner of each eye. Then I let out a gust of air to brace myself.
Did it matter if I looked good? No.
I’d stalled so long, Wombat was beside the car. “Hey, ’you okay?”
I’m not okay! I opened my door to get out and fake it. But I wasn’t strong enough to stand, let alone speak.
“I heard your asshole ex couldn’t make it.”
I glanced at his face. He wasn’t joking around. “They’re having the baby.”
“He should have called.” The growl in his voice shook me.
“It’s understandable. He’s excited. It’s their first.” My voice cracked on the last word. We’d always planned for two. My head hurt from the hollow echoes of the past. Somehow I managed to get out of the car.
“Look at me.”
Until he spoke, I hadn’t realized I was avoiding his eyes. Now, I didn’t want to expose myself. I tried to shove everything away so I could face him. “Why?”
He held my chin and turned my face from one side to the other. “You’ve been crying.”
“I’m here to pick up Molly. I apologize for how late it is.”
His jaw worked to the side as if he dared me to knock it back into place.
A flash of anger surged through me. But I wasn’t a violent person. Carefully, I opened the fist I’d made.
He glanced down. “You mad?”
“No,” I lied.
A little laugh escaped him. “Funny, I’d be pissed as hell. I bet Jimbo called you to tell you his side chick is having your baby, didn’t he?”
I froze, trying to figure out if he’d said that or if I’d twisted the words around. A squeak leaked out instead of the acidic words scrambled in my brain.
Wombat bent down a little so we were eye to eye. It didn’t take more than a slouch of his shoulders because we were near the same height with my heels. “That was an asshole thing for me to say, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. I finally managed a weak, “You shouldn’t talk about customers that way.”
“You pay Lemon, he doesn’t. I suppose you’re going to pay the late fee for that dick, too, aren’t you?”
Of course I was. It was my name on the contract. The reminder wasn’t pleasant.
Wombat straightened. “Word of advice, don’t.”
Something like a laugh came out. “Are you telling me what to do?”
“Yeah. Make the asshole pay. It’s his fault, not yours.”
If only I could make him pay for all of it. “That’s not how civilized people settle their differences.”
His lips curled. “Fuck civilized.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Are you making excuses for him?” The words were angry, Wombat’s expression was angrier.
I took a step back. That wouldn’t do. I was a top-notch attorney. I was well-versed in verbal combat. I gauged what would silence him but not enrage him. “Are you still on probation?”
He deflated. “You should know, you arranged it.” He took a step or two away and straightened Molly’s leash before handing it off. “Here. I’ll get her things.”
He disappeared into the house and came back with her scent blanket.
DA saw the fabric and whined.
“Shut up, Dumb Ass. She leaves every day.” Wombat shook his head.
Molly watched DA and let out a little whine of her own. “I think they’re getting attached to each other.”
Wombat followed the connection from Molly to DA. “They’re just friends.”
I stared at the angry set of his shoulders. “Are we friends?”
Our eyes met. “If you weren’t my lawyer, and I was richer like Jim-dick, we’d be more.”
“Are you sure about that?” I countered.
He squared off to study me. “How many times have you orgasmed in the last five months, not counting solo excursions?”
That was crude and sledgehammer blunt. I responded with some bluntness of my own. “Make it a year and a half, and that would be zero.”
“Jesus.” His sharp gaze softened. “What about in two years?” His eyes glittered as he studied my face. I swear his eyes stalled on my lips.
“Twice,” I admitted. Then I was reminded that it really wasn’t. “Maybe.”
He made a rude noise and caught my chin again to get my attention. “There’d be no maybe with me. And I can guarantee if you give me a half hour, I’ll make twice a solid certainty.”
My gasp was audible. The shiver that went through me wasn’t. But it made my breath shaky as I imagined what that growl would sound like with his cock inside me. Or how his rough hands would feel…everywhere.
What was I doing? He was thirteen years younger than I was. He was a client. Well, former client and possibly a future client because his “boss” employed my firm often. “We’d never work.”
“I hate work. Let’s play instead.”
“Are you suggesting an affair?”
His silent pause made me hold my breath.
Finally, he answered. “Affair? No. Sex. Hot, sweaty, aching pussy…sex.” He leaned in.
“You’re a beautiful woman. And a damn sexy one.
You deserve everything sweet and spicy handed you on a fucking platter.
You need a man who could make you come five times in one night and cook you breakfast in the morning because you can’t get out of bed without your legs giving out. ”
I exhaled, wondering in what world that was even possible. “You’d do that?”
“Hell yes. Emphatically, yes.”
I was in trouble, deep, deep trouble. Because it would be so easy to just take what was offered and forget my pain for one night.
“You’re one hell of a woman, Honoria Ryder, Esquire.”
He would have to remind me of the reason we met.
I stared at him. The lights illuminating the farm buildings cast his face into shadow, masking the open and surprisingly honest expression he usually wore.
His strawberry-blond hair was messy, the longer ends hanging loose from the ponytail he’d wrapped it in.
He’d cut it shorter for court, but it had still been longer than I advised.
But without it hanging past his shoulders, it accented the strength there.
He was wiry, not bulky. Tapered with no excess around his waist. I didn’t dare glance lower for fear I’d get caught by the bulge in his jeans.
Just thinking about that made me wonder if he’d look younger with his clothes off.
That made me wince. “I can’t do this.”
“Why? What did you see in that head-to-toe that you didn’t like?”
“It wasn’t head to toe.”
Wombat shook his head. “Am I too short for you?”
“No.” I didn’t like overly tall men. They had an adverse effect on me.
“Too dirty? Or because I got dog hair permanently embedded in my clothes?”
I brushed at Molly’s fur stuck to my dress pants. “No. A little dog hair isn’t the problem.”
“I’m twenty-five. I’m legal in every country. In case you’re worried about that.”
There it was. “I’m thirty-eight. Thirteen years older than you.”
He did something I hadn’t expected. He leaned to the side and scanned me from head to toe, much more blatantly than I had done to him. “And you are damn fine. You will be for the rest of your life, you know that? You are a woman, capital W. I prefer women.”
If only his compliments were genuine.
“I can’t have children.”
Why in the hell did I blurt that out? I dropped Molly’s leash and hid my face.
The jingle of her collar made me peek through my mortification. Wombat had collected her and given her enough slack that she pressed against my side. I tangled my fingers in her fur before facing my embarrassment head-on. “Well?”
“Don’t want to get pregnant, or—” He stopped, uncomfortable.
“I can’t stay pregnant.” Those words hurt so badly, I almost broke.
Somehow I gathered what little courage I had and met his gaze.
He blinked first. Then followed up with, “There’s this woman I know… Fin’s wife. She had gestational diabetes, bad. It messed her up. Messed up her chances of having kids. Fin’s cool with it. He loves her just as she is.”
I knew he was trying to be helpful, but helpful wasn’t what helped. Nothing could. “Can we not talk about this?”
Not today, when those wounds were freshly sliced open again.
I stared into the darkness. The farm had a small patch of woods that hid the buildings from the road.
It kept civilization at bay. But I could still hear the nearest highway.
The noise beckoned to me with a promise of new cities, new starts, a way to escape… “Did you ever want to get away?”
“Just up and leave? Yeah. Many times.”
He’d followed my line of sight and stared into the woods with me.
“What kept you here?” I asked.
“Lemon.”
His answer was so quick, it was as if he’d been asked it before.
“Why?” I turned to watch his reply and pick up a clue that could help me hold on to reality.
He frowned. “She’s family. I suppose that is what it is.”
I wanted a family of my own.
My phone rang. I stepped away a little to have privacy.
Jim’s elated voice overrode my greeting. “It’s a boy. Joseph Bridger Crowne. Six pounds, eight ounces. It’s a boy!”
How nice for him. How fucking nice.