Chapter 8 Reality Sucks!
EIGHT
REALITY SUCKS!
Milly
I fell back asleep, but the early morning sun beaming through the sheer curtains wakes me.
As the sun rises, so does the dread of having to leave.
My mind races with thoughts of him saying, “I’m going to remind you who you belong to.
” It was hot coming from his lips, but what does that mean exactly?
I overthink things too much. He was probably talking about sex, but there’s this nagging sensation that last night was more than just casual sex.
His breathing changes, and he shifts. I can tell he’s awake. I snuggle into him, finding contentment in the moment before everything has to change, before we have to return to the reality of our situation.
“Good morning, pretty lady.”
“Good morning. How are you feeling?” My nerves coil as I wait for his answer.
“Like I had the best fucking night of my life.”
I grin from ear to ear as the anxiety melts away.
“How are you feeling?” he asks curiously.
“Sore,” I answer honestly. Because, well, I am tender this morning.
He rolls onto his side, his eyebrows pinched. “Did I hurt you?”
“No . . . well, yes, but in a good way. I’m not used to someone your size.”
He gives me a sly smirk, clearly pleased with my response. “I want to wake up like this every morning.” He leans over and squeezes my boob playfully. “With you naked in my arms.”
I giggle, but pull the blanket up, feeling exposed.
He scoffs and pouts. “I’m obsessed with your body. Leave the blanket down.”
I love how he always puts my mind at ease when I feel uncomfortable or self-conscious.
“Well . . . since you’re sore, do you have any requests on what you’d like to do before we have to leave . . . outside of the bedroom?”
A thought comes to mind. “Yes, I do, actually.”
He waits for my answer.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle,” I admit shyly. “But I never had the confidence to ask my brother. I understand if you say no,” I’m quick to add. I don’t want to make him feel bad, and I know how much their motorcycles mean to them.
He smiles indecently. “You’re going to look sexy as fuck riding my bike.” There was no hesitation; he obviously trusts me.
“Aren’t you worried I’m going to scratch it?”
“That’s what we have Axle for. He can fix it.” He sits up in bed. “Let’s go. You’re going to love it.”
We get changed. He insists I wear jeans and a jacket for safety.
As we head to the bottom floor, my heart races. We pass the receptionist and step outside to his bike. It’s black with high chrome ape hangers and chrome wheels. I’m giddy as I stand beside it. I’ve wanted to learn how to ride ever since I saw my brother on one.
He helps me ease the helmet over my head and fastens up the strap under my chin. “Are you ready?” he asks coyly.
I nod, though my pulse is rapid. He helps me onto the bike, and I swing my leg over.
“Put the stand up and hold the bike up.”
I swallow down some fake confidence and do as I’m told.
“First, check that the bike’s in neutral by clicking the gear lever all the way down, then half a click up. Then turn it on.” He points to the switch. “Press the button to start it.”
I follow his instructions, and the bike roars to life. I jump. The exhaust is so loud.
“The front brake is on the handlebars, and the rear brake is on the right foot pedal. Next, pull the clutch in—it’s on the left-hand side.
Push the gear lever down with your left foot until it clicks.
That’s first gear. Slowly let the clutch out while giving it a little bit of throttle.
But once you’re moving, put your feet on the pegs. Go slow.”
The bike moves forward as my grin stretches wide. “I’m doing it!”
He walks beside me as I go. “The safest way to stop is using the back brake. As you come to a stop, pull the clutch in and put your foot on the brake.”
I do it, and the bike comes to a stop.
“You can do a small lap around. Just turn the handlebars when you want to turn.”
I move forward again slowly, elated. I ride around the parking lot and stop when I see a car approaching.
Even though I’m going slowly, I’m thrilled I’m doing it.
I do three more laps before pulling the bike into its original parking spot.
I turn it off, put the stand down, and once the bike balances, I jump off and straight into Twitch’s arms. I laugh as he swings me around in a circle.
“You did great. Did you like it?” he asks enthusiastically.
“I loved it.” I curl my fingers into his leather jacket and look up into those adoring eyes. “Thank you so much. I’ve wanted to learn to ride for so long, and I finally did it. You did that. You made it happen.”
He pulls me into his chest, his biceps curling around me. “You’re more than welcome. I’m stoked to see you so happy.”
My eyes blur with unshed tears. He makes me feel like I’m his, even though I’m not.
“I needed this time with you. Something as small as a getaway and teaching me to ride your bike. It means a lot.” Being a doctor, I’m always the person helping others.
I’ve never had someone who is genuinely happy just making me happy.
We’re like a jigsaw puzzle; when we’re together, it feels like we’re meant to be.
I snuggle into his shirt. “I don’t want to go back,” I whisper. Here in our little bubble, I’m happy, but why does it have to come with a price? Why do I have to have feelings for a man I’m not supposed to date?
He cups my chin in his hand and lifts my face to meet his gaze. His eyes swirl with a mix of emotions that reflect my own. He leans down and kisses me on the lips. The kiss is tender, and he holds on longer than normal.
“I want to stay too . . . but we can’t.” His voice softens at the end.
Dread cuts to the bone. I clear my throat.
“I know.” This short bit of time we’ve granted each other is going to make going home so much worse.
I can’t jump into his arms again. We can’t kiss or have sex.
He gives me one more quick peck on the lips, and we linger in each other’s arms before we walk back to our room in silence, holding hands.
We pack our bags and leave, but my chest aches with a new pain—a realization of what we can never have. Tears fall while I’m driving to the day spa.
I park outside, debating whether to go in.
I don’t want to disappoint Sophie. She’s trying to do something nice, getting us all out to relax together.
I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts and emotions.
I look in the mirror, run my fingers through my hair, and wipe my eyes.
When I step out, Sophie is standing by the front door with a hand on her hip. I fake a smile.
She gives me a pointed stare. “I didn’t think you were going to get out of the car.”
Me neither. “No, I was coming in.”
“You’re the last one. The rest of the girls are up in the spa.”
Once I get close to her, she grasps my arms and frowns. “What’s wrong?” she asks with concern.
Oh, damn it. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit!” she calls me out.
I chuckle, but it’s flat.
“Are you crying over a man? Is it McDaddy?” she asks, her face twisting into a funny expression.
“No, it’s not McDaddy.”
“So it is a guy . . . Just because they’re good for your hole doesn’t mean they’re good for your soul.”
I burst out laughing. It’s exactly what I needed. “True that.”
“Come on, let’s go get you a facial, a massage, a blowout, nails . . . the whole works.”
I’ve never been a real girly girl. I’ve never been to a spa. Occasionally I get my eyebrows waxed, but that’s my limit for beauty treatments. Still, a facial and massage sound heavenly.
Once inside the spa, I’m ushered into a room, where I get into a robe. I say hello to everyone and take a seat beside Ivy and Zara.
“Put your feet in the water. We’re getting pedicures,” says Ivy.
The water is warm and contains rose petals. Sophie comes to my side with a glass of champagne. I was going to sip it, but screw it—I down the lot. I feel all eyes on me.
Sophie laughs. “My girl’s thirsty. Don’t worry, I’ll get you another one.”
Ivy leans in close to me while everyone goes back to their conversations. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly.
I shake my head and lower my voice. “I spent the night with . . .”
Her eyes light up, but once she sees my sadness, she asks, “What happened?”
“It was amazing.” Too good. Damn him and his rock-hard body! “Coming back to reality really sucks!”
“Oh.” She sighs and squeezes my hand. “What’s going to happen now? Does it change anything?”
I frown. “No, it won’t.” I take my new glass of champagne and sip it.
A phone rings. Sophie grabs it from her bag, answers, and lets out a long groan. “I told you already, there are female massage therapists here. I don’t understand how many times we have to go through this. So go tell those jealous men of ours that there are no men here.”
A few of us giggle at that.
“Okay . . . okay. Love you, bye.”
I glance at Zara. “Have you been feeling any better?”
“Unfortunately, no, and I’ve been getting these bad headaches. I’m just stressing out that something’s wrong.”
“It’s normal to feel that way, but maybe you should get a checkup.”
She sucks in a breath. “Do you think something’s wrong?”
“You should just put your mind at ease. Your doctor might give you something for the nausea and vomiting too.”
She gives me a tight nod. “Thanks. I’ll call to organize an appointment. I hope they can fit me in.”
“Don’t panic,” I emphasize, but I see it does nothing to ease her.
She reaches over and grabs her phone. “I’ll be right back.”
My stomach drops. I’ve made her nervous. But she’s better off getting checked out. I hope it’s nothing, but I’ve seen so many pregnant women turning up at the ER with problems that should have been addressed earlier but weren’t.
When she returns, she sinks back into her seat. “I’ve got an appointment later this afternoon.”
I give her a small smile. “Wonderful to hear. Are you finding out what sex the baby is?”
“We decided not to. I’d love a surprise. My niece wants me to have a girl, but both Bomber and I don’t mind. I just hope the baby’s healthy.”
When it’s Elena’s and my turn to have a facial, we lie down on the beds.
“We are going to clean your faces first, using a gentle cleanser.” The cleanser cools my skin.
After rinsing, the esthetician applies a light product and begins massaging my face and neck.
Elena moans, while I snort, then we are both left laughing.
When I return to the clubhouse, I feel relaxed. My nails look fresh from the manicure and pedicure, and I feel rejuvenated. I need to spend more time doing stuff like that, especially the massage. It’s done wonders. Now all I want to do is sleep.
Everyone’s gathered around the large dining table for dinner. It’s awkward with me on one side of Twitch and Mercedez on the other, though when Twitch gives me a goofy smile while eating his meal, I smile back.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Reaper says to me. He’s sitting at the head of the table.
“Were you worried I wasn’t coming back to the clubhouse?” I tease.
“I wasn’t sure, but”—he lowers his voice—“I enjoy having you here.” He’s a big, tough biker and the president of the War Brothers MC, but he’s also a softy.
It makes me wonder: If Reaper sees me happy with Twitch, would it be enough for him to let go of any resentment he has toward us?
I’m worried he might carry some, given we’re going against his wishes.
“Aww, well, I like staying here too and . . . I think I’ll stick around for a while if you don’t mind.”
I hear someone coughing loudly, and I don’t have to look to know it’s Mercedez.
Ava claps with glee. “We would love you to stay here.”
“Yes,” Reaper adds. “That room can be yours. I’ll run it by the club in the next meeting, but I can’t see it being a problem.”
My heart could burst with happiness. I didn’t realize how much I felt like I belonged here. It seems more like home than my house does.
“So what did you get up to while you were away?” Mercedez asks with a fake smile.
My body tenses and Twitch clears his throat, but I look at her and give her a smile. “Not much, just some housework and watched some movies.”
She gives me a dead stare, and my heart races. Does she know something? Is that the reason for the question? But no one knew about the arrangement to go there apart from me and Twitch.
“How’s your family?” Ava asks Twitch.
He wipes his mouth. “Yeah, good.” He looks away. “Everyone’s good.”
Oh, jeez . . . he’s a terrible liar. When I dare take a peek, my brother gives him a funny look. I’ve been able to fake a smile my whole life, pretending everything’s always good, but Twitch can’t lie to save his life.
I yawn. “I’m off to bed. Those spa treatments have made me so sleepy.” I stand.
“Are you working tomorrow?” Ava asks.
“Yes, I am. Have a good night, everyone.” And with a round of byes I take my plate and put it in the dishwasher and go upstairs to bed, where mixed emotions about how I feel about Twitch and what we’re going to do wreak havoc on my psyche.