Chapter 20
A lex
Mid-December
I don’t hate Natalie. It’s so fucking far from the truth. I hate that I want her. That I crave her. How the moment I kissed her tonight felt like coming home, and how guilty I feel about that.
“I’m sorry, I ruined everything,” Natalie whispers, tightening her arms around my neck. I slide my hands against her back and pull her closer to me. She subconsciously snuggles against me, and I feel the heat of her core soaking right through my uniform pants onto my stiff as a board cock. When she shimmies, I let out a groan.
“You didn’t ruin anything. And unless you want to feel me come in my pants like a teenager, stop moving,” I rasp, my voice husky as the little vixen immediately stops, then starts again. “Fucking hell, Sunflower. That spanking taught you nothing.”
“It totally didn’t,” she pants, finding a rhythm against me. “But this feels too good to care.”
I debate on letting her finish, then sitting her next to me so we can continue the conversation. So I can be clear with my expectations. Maybe we scratch this itch. Maybe I help her scratch the itch every now and again. How can I tell her that I don’t know what to name this — whatever this is — without sounding like I’m just using her to hook up?
I’m about to tell her to stop so I can pull out my cock, but Natalie senses what I’m about to say and reaches between us to undo my pants. Her little hand wraps around me, and I let out a harsh swear as that tingling at the base of my spine hits. “Hurry up, baby, or else I’m coming on your stomach.”
Pushing my pants and boxers out of the way, we let out simultaneous moans when Natalie slides down onto me, her tight heat engulfing me perfectly. It’s been so many years since I went without a condom that I have to grit my teeth and start chanting some of the cadences I learned in basic training in an attempt to get my dick to behave. I’m ready to blow, and the vision before me isn’t helping matters when she throws her head back in bliss, her long hair dragging along my thighs.
Grabbing both of Natalie’s arms, I thrust them into the air so I can remove her sweater, then groan in delight. Her ample breasts explode out of a black lace bra, and I salivate with sheer need as I yank her bra straps down and immediately suck a tip into my mouth. Natalie cries out, clutching my head against her chest, and I feel her pussy clamp down on me. Her tits have gone up at least a cup size in pregnancy, and she was already well endowed. I’m a boob man, and I’m all too happy with this new playground. As I switch to the other breast, Natalie mumbles, “I didn’t think they’d be this sensitive.”
“Yeah?”
“Alex, you’re gonna make me come again if you keep going.”
I know if she comes, I’ll follow her right over the cliff. I’m barely hanging on as it is, and as much as I’d love to experience her orgasm just from playing with her breasts, I want to bring her there with my cock. Letting her nipple out of my mouth with a resounding pop, I grip Natalie’s waist as I raise her until just the tip of my cock remains inside her core. Eyes closed, she waits for me to move her, but when I don’t, her eyes open. When they connect with mine, I state clearly, “Keep those eyes on me.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver as I begin slowly thrusting into her from below. I know I’m not lasting long. Her pussy feels exquisite, gripping me so tightly. She mumbles to herself, “So fucking good.”
Indeed.
Best I’ve ever —
No. Shaking my head to remove that thought, I refocus. Sticking my tongue out, I touch the tip to her nipple, and her pussy flutters around me. Jesus, they really are sensitive. “You gonna come on my cock like a good girl, Natalie? Milk me, baby. Make me come.”
I lean forward and wrap my teeth lightly around her nipple, biting softly, and Natalie seizes up in my arms as she comes violently. She struggles to keep her eyes open, but I’m too far gone to care. The wave of pleasure starts at my toes, sweeping over my body as I thrust harshly into her. Spurt after spurt releases as I grunt through my own intense orgasm.
Natalie collapses against me, her head lolling on my shoulder as we both regain our senses. Moments later, when she’s still quiet, I assume she’s fallen asleep. Suddenly lifting her head, she looks me directly in the eye and says, “Promise me something.”
“Okay?” I respond hesitantly.
“If this is just a one-night thing, promise me we can do that again before you go home. We have to do that again.”
I chuckle as she gives me a coy smile. “I think I can make that happen.”
We don’t have sex again. What occurs instead is one of the most confusing nights of my life.
After ensuring my kids will be fine at Dom’s house for dinner and a sleepover, Natalie orders food for delivery. Hours later, after discovering a shared love of home improvement shows, we discuss all the ways we’d rebuild and decorate her apartment and my house. Our tastes are night and day. Natalie is big colors, cozy furniture, and loads of personality. I’m clean lines, minimal accessories, and organization in every area.
Yet as we discussed our ideas, they were cohesive. We could share a space and showcase both of our personalities. After having a decade long relationship with someone so similar to me, it throws me off kilter to recognize meeting a woman in the middle and not feeling like I’d given up so much.
I told her various stories about growing up with six siblings, and she regaled me with tales of her brother’s antics. Natalie’s ability to tell a story is on par with my grandmother. Her eyes light up with mirth and mischief, hands thrown about as she tells me tale after tale where Shawn got into trouble. It seems my Sunflower comes by her cantankerous personality genetically.
My Sunflower.
Natalie falls asleep with her head on my shoulder, and after turning off the television, I pick her up and place her under the covers.
“Don’t leave,” she mumbles, half awake. “You promised more sex.”
“Not really into somnophilia, Sunflower,” I murmur.
“Some no what?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
When her breathing deepens, I move to sit on a chair, my elbows on my knees as I watch her sleep. It would be so easy to climb behind her, wrap my arms around her and fall asleep with her amazing vanilla scent comforting me, but I won’t. I can’t.
You can.
“God dammit, Sara, not now,” I hiss quietly.
She needs you.
Fucking hell. I hate this. Hate that I feel like I’m having an affair. Hate that I can’t seem to move on, and Sara’s been dead for over five years.
The wind seems to whoosh right out of my sails as I hear the words in my mind.
Sara is dead.
The only woman I’ve ever loved died while I was thousands of miles away.
I think up until this point, I’d referred to her as being gone or passed away. Somehow using the word ‘dead’ makes it more final and blunt.
Natalie sighs as she tucks a hand under her face, her other hand reaching as if she’s trying to touch me. I have to get out of here. I can’t handle this right now .
I get dressed silently, aware that I’m going to hurt Natalie again, but powerless to stop what I’m about to do.
You’re an idiot.
I violently shake my head to remove Sara’s thoughts, then grab my shoes as I quietly creep out of the apartment.
As I close the door, I see Natalie’s eyes are open, watching me, but I don’t stop. Even when I hear her shout, “You’re a coward, Alex!”
I know.
It should be pretty emasculating to admit that I get home, immediately get in the shower, and then begin to sob. Once those flood gates opened, it becomes a raging river of grief, anger, and general sadness.
I cry for the life I thought I’d have, and what my kids are missing out on because Sara isn’t here. I cry because I never really let myself break down when she died, thinking I had to be strong and steadfast for Abbie and Ben. I’ve always thought of their feelings before my own, and now I realize what a detriment that was to my own mental health.
Once out of the shower, I open up my email app to find the response I got from the therapist my mom suggested weeks ago. Pete Ducey responded almost immediately that day, but then I got cold feet and never answered his initial questions. I can’t keep living like this. Regardless of any future romantic relationships, I have to take care of me for the sake of my children.
I feel somewhat lighter after the shower sob fest, and I wonder if I had been holding on to all that emotion for years. My thoughts seem remarkably clearer, and I recognize how poorly I’ve treated Natalie. She didn’t ask for any of this, and I’m determined to figure out a way for us to co-exist as we move forward.
After a fitful few hours of sleep, I make my way to Dominic’s early Saturday morning. A fresh dusting of snow blankets Eternity Springs, and I lovingly look around my hometown, noting all the beauty as the town wakes up. Isabella’s bakery is already bustling, and I’m sure she’s been slogging away over her ovens, completing normal daily items as well as special orders for Christmas cookies and cakes.
I find myself automatically turning to go down Natalie’s street, and I’m surprised to find her outside, shoveling the sidewalk. Furious, I skid to a halt, throw the car in park, and storm across the street. “What the fuck are you doing, Nat?”
Her eyes meet mine, and I see the swirling of emotions. “What does it look like I’m doing, asshole? I’m shoveling the fucking sidewalk.”
I attempt to take the shovel from her, but she scoots away. “Seriously, give me the damn shovel. I’ll do it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No! I don’t need your help with anything, Alex. Any. Thing. I’m sick and tired of your mood swings where you lull me into a false sense of security, then rip the rug right out from under me. So how about you leave me the hell alone, alright?”
“You shouldn’t shovel while pregnant,” I say gently. “I don’t remember a lot from when Sara was pregnant, but I remember that one.”
“Well, all of my neighbors are older than me, and the city never does this part of the sidewalk. It’s safer for me to shovel than it is for me to fall on my stomach.”
“Please let me finish. I can’t sit here and let you do this.”
“You can if I don’t give up the shovel,” she states defiantly, popping the shovel loudly on the ground as she stares at me, one hand on her hip. “I don’t want you here, Alex. Do you understand me? I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.”
Each word grates on my heart, and I look at the ground. I notice she’s wearing two different boots, then leggings under a long nightgown that she definitely didn’t have on last night. A puffer jacket covers the nightgown, and a cute owl hat with a large pompom on top sits on her head. Nothing is the same color, her hair is in disarray, but I honestly feel like the breath is stolen from my lungs as my eyes meet hers.
I’m taken aback at the intensity in her eyes, though. Natalie has never looked at me with such disdain and hatred evident in her gaze, and I wonder if I’ve finally managed to push her away.
“Okay, I’ll go,” I say hesitantly, pushing my hands up in surrender. I make a mental note to find a teenager that I can hire to shovel the rest of the block every time it snows the remainder of winter. When I look back at Natalie as she blows an errant piece of hair out of her eyes, I think how she’s never looked more beautiful.
“Do you ever sleep in?” Still clad in pajamas with his hair sticking out in every direction, my younger brother rubs his eyes as he opens the door for me.
“No, and you didn’t used to sleep in either,” I point out.
“I have a hot wife warming my bed. I kept her up late last night,” Dom says proudly.
“I assumed my kids would be up if you weren’t,” I explain as I remove my thick winter coat.
“Hi Dad,” Ben calls from the kitchen.
Dom winces, then leans toward me to whisper, “I love your kid, but when he gets up before us, he ransacks the kitchen. Help me clean it up before Katharine comes down. He got into some kind of special coffee once, and she’s never forgotten.”
Great. I don’t really want my sister-in-law to hate me, so I trudge after Dom to see what mess my son has made.
“Ben, what’s on the ceiling?” Dom asks, and I stop in my tracks as I witness the destruction before me.
“It was a science experiment. Toilet paper and water. It didn’t work as I anticipated.”
“How did you think it would go?” Dom pries.
“Well, I thought gravity would allow the wad to fall down fairly quickly. But I didn’t consider the viscosity of the wad, and that the wetness of it became like a glue,” Ben says matter-of-factly.
“So you’re saying you basically glued toilet paper to my ceiling?”
“Yes.”
Dom continues to study the ceiling, tilting his head to the side. “It would appear there’s some cereal stuck inside the wad of goo.”
Ben giggles, then covers his mouth with his hands. “I attempted to weigh down the wad.”
“Ben, how long have you been up?” I ask, rubbing my neck as I attempt to keep a straight face.
“Quite a few hours, Dad. I woke up because Aunt Kate kept shouting something, but I couldn’t tell what she said. Then I heard Uncle Dom tell her to take it, so I figured she was going downstairs. I must have missed her, though, because no one was down here. I started watching my favorite YouTube channel about science experiments, so I was fine.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dom mutters.
“Take it?” I ask.
“I’m not going to clarify that, but I’m sure you can use your imagination.”
“Lovely. You’re lucky he didn’t barge in there to check on Kate, man. Better watch it when my kids are here.”
“Locked door and a chair under the doorknob. Got three kids of my own. I’m not taking any chances. Now hurry up and help me clean this up before Katharine has a heart attack.”
The kitchen is cleaned in a half hour, and Ben is sleeping soundly on the couch when Kate meanders down a little bit later. None the wiser, we choose to keep Ben’s science experiments — and what he heard after he went to bed — to ourselves. As long as Kate doesn’t look at the ceiling, where a wet spot still resides on the paint, then she’ll never know.
“How’s the baby momma doing, Alex?” Kate teases.
I sigh, frustration emanating from me in waves. “Pissed at me for a variety of reasons.”
“What did you do?” Dom asks. When I raise an eyebrow at him, he rolls his eyes. “Come on. I love you, but you’re a fucking disaster. She’s pregnant, hormonal, and has no one here. I’m on her side.”
I quickly explain the last twenty four hours, leaving out the more personal details, but insinuate we slept together again. How I promised her I wouldn’t sneak out, but then did anyway, and how she yelled at me when I found her shoveling this morning. I feel awful saying that I tried to help, and it only seemed to make Natalie even angrier. I explain how I’ve felt a pull to Natalie over the past month, and how I’m struggling with the vows I made to Sara.
“Was she angry about your help, about you leaving in the middle of the night, or about the ups and downs with you entirely?” Kate asks.
“All of the above, I think.” I scratch my chin absentmindedly. “I don’t mean to swing from one way to the other. I’m really struggling.”
“Well, you never went to therapy after Sara died, and then spent half a decade pining for her. Honestly I’m not surprised you’re having difficulty now,” Dom says. Kate gasps and slaps him on the chest. “What?”
“Read the room, Dominic. That was incredibly uncouth,” Kate chastises.
Dom shrugs. “He gave me shit about you. This is how brothers are. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I’ve watched our entire family tiptoe around you, man, and it needs to stop. Mom said she gave you the name of my therapist. Have you made an appointment yet?”
“I — that was from you?” I stammer.
Dom nods. “I’ve been seeing him for a few years.”
“But why? You’re the most put together person I know.”
Dom sighs, then looks to Kate, who squeezes his hand reassuringly. “I suffer from some pretty intense anxiety. Somewhere along the line, I became convinced that I had to control everything, and perfection was the only option. It was only when I married Kate that things began to come together, but I still see Pete once a month to touch base.”
“I had no idea,” I murmur.
Dom gives me a half smile. “I did a hell of a job hiding it. Mom only found out a couple years ago. I really think you should speak to Pete. He’s helped me so much.”
“But what should I do about Natalie?” I ask.
“You shouldn’t do anything about it today,” Kate says quietly. When I look up at her, she’s smiling at me kindly. “Your mental health is what’s paramount right now. You cannot have any relationship with her, whether that be romantic, or as co-parents, until you take care of what’s going on in your head. You’re struggling, and deep down, I know Natalie understands that. She might have been angry today, but give her time.”
“I don’t want any of this,” I confess. “I don’t want to want her. I don’t want to have this fucking trauma hanging over me, and I don’t want to have to talk to a shrink about it.”
“We don’t really get to pick our trauma,” Dom says dryly. “I certainly didn’t think things would turn out the way they did with Savannah. When she showed up at our renewal ceremony, our kids were traumatized. All five of us went to therapy. It helps to have an outsider objectively look at a situation.”
“That’s what Natalie said about Ben,” I murmur.
Kate’s eyes widen. “She suggested Ben needed therapy?”
I nod. “Teachers noticed some changes since last year, and Nat said Ben won’t talk about Sara at all. I guess it never occurred to me that it might be helpful to allow the kids a place to vent. I figured we’re men, and we suck it up with the emotional shit.”
Dom smothers a laugh as Kate glares at him. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Direct that glare at him, Katharine. I’ve dealt with my emotional shit, and now it’s his turn.”
“You dealt with your anxiety shit, and I forced you to deal with your emotional shit,” she points out.
“Semantics,” he mutters. “Back to your original statement though. You said you don’t want to want Natalie. So you do at least acknowledge a connection there?”
I sigh, closing my eyes as I rest my head against the back of the chair. “I don’t know how to handle my thoughts about her. She couldn’t be any more the opposite of Sara if she tried. Sara was comfortable and relaxed. Natalie challenges everything. Sara rarely raised her voice, and Natalie has shouted at me more than once already. Then I see her with Ben, and she’s so fucking patient and kind. With Sara, it was making love. But with Natalie, it’s —”
“Fucking,” Dom says. “You never once thought you fucked Sara? Not once?”
“No,” I admit. “I felt like our hearts were meeting. It was sexy and sensual. With Natalie, I want to rut her into the ground. I’m so fucking attracted to her that I can’t see straight, and it’s messing with my ability to make conscious decisions. It’s primal. I feel like a damn animal when I’m around her, just trying to will my dick to stay calm.”
“She had a crush on you growing up, did you know that?” Kate pipes up. When I nod my head, she continues. “She was super shy as a teen, apparently, and by the time she had gained some confidence, you were already with Sara. She said it was painful to watch the two of you together because she could see how much you loved each other.”
“She told Abbie something similar. At least the part about seeing me with Sara. I don’t think she told Abbie that it was painful to see me with Sara, though.”
“Listen, Alex,” Kate says, sitting up and placing her hand on mine, “I know you’re struggling, but Natalie is too. This isn’t how she thought her life would turn out either. Knowing both of you, I can say this with certainty: I really don’t think Natalie will handle you breaking her heart very well. After what her jackass ex did to her, her confidence is nonexistent. So I want you to be very sure of what you want with her before you approach her about anything.”
Dom nods, and I chuckle bitterly. “You agree with your wife?”
“I do. Natalie has the most to lose here, and she already has the past of wanting a connection with you. No offense, bro, but you deal with trauma and heartbreak by closing yourself off. You’ll bounce back because you won’t allow yourself any other option. Natalie will be stuck living here, with no family, and will see your miserable ass all over the place. If you don’t know with certainty that you are going to end up with her, don’t take that chance.”