Chapter 2
Chapter Two
BEATRICE
“Yes. Yeah, of course.” Blue opens the door, motioning me inside. “Come in. Do you want something to eat?” he asks as I step into his small kitchen. “A grilled cheese or something?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“Tea? I have fresh mint or lemongrass.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He settles into a chair at the dining table, knees spread wide and hands fisted between them.
Then, he just…waits.
Waits for me to say more.
Waits for me to reveal why I’m here.
And why am I here?
Nibbling my bottom lip, I hover by the part of the kitchen counter covered in healthy, happy houseplants. Plants thrive under Blue’s care. Meanwhile, I’ve never met a cactus I couldn’t kill.
He has his shit deeply together, and I am…a mess.
Such a mess, I confess in a rush, “Baylor just called to tell me that he and Charlotte are getting married. And I gushed and laughed and told them congratulations and how happy I was for them. And I meant it, I really did. But the second we hung up, I started crying. Crying and moping and spiraling into thoughts about the hellscape of modern dating and…” I wheeze in a breath.
“Well, I think I’m jealous. Of my own brother’s happiness. How gross is that? How grossly gross?”
Blue’s expression softens with compassion. “You aren’t gross. And you aren’t jealous.”
“What am I then?” I ask, with a tight laugh. “Seriously, I’d love for you to tell me. Give me an excuse not to feel like a monster. Please.”
“You’re lonely. And grieving,” he says. “Love is a hard thing to lose. Even bad love.”
The back of my nose begins to sting as I nod. I press my lips together, weathering the unexpected rush of emotion.
Damn. He’s right.
Of course, he’s right. Blue is almost always right.
When I’m pretty sure I’m not going to start crying again, I nod. “Yeah. It is. I wouldn’t go back to Kai for anything, but…” I clear my throat, aiming for a lighter tone as I add, “But I’ve been single for six months, and I can’t even get laid, let alone anything more, so…”
Blue’s gaze flickers on the word “laid,” just the slightest bit, but it’s enough to make something deep inside me sit up and take notice.
I mean, maybe I’m crazy, but that didn’t look like a friendly flicker.
It looked like the flicker of a man trying not to think about sex.
About me having sex.
About maybe having sex…with me?
The world spins a little.
Maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe Blue isn’t as immune to the chemistry between us as he’s let on. Maybe he’s just been fighting it.
And maybe he’s getting tired of fighting it…
“I’ve never talked about sex with a male friend before,” I add, my heart skipping a beat as his eyes flicker again. “Kai would have flipped out if he knew I was being that open with another man. Even just a friend.”
Blue grunts softly, but his gaze doesn’t waver from mine.
“What about you?” I ask. “If your girlfriend told a male friend that she was dying for sex, would that make you angry?”
“No. I would just wonder why she wasn’t telling me.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know how,” I counter, my nipples tightening. There’s no doubt about it now. Blue is interested. The bulge swelling behind his zipper as I sway closer makes that crystal clear.
Crystal fucking clear…
But we can’t. Can we?
I mean, he obviously doesn’t want to date his best friend’s little sister, but maybe a night of wild, soul-healing sex would be okay?
Maybe even something he needs as much as I do?
I’ve done enough poking around to know that Blue hasn’t had a girlfriend for a long time, and that he doesn’t hook up at bars, either.
It could be that he’s been celibate even longer than I have.
In further proof that I’m too tipsy to be trusted, I ask, “How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”
His throat works, but his expression remains calm, almost unreadable. “A long time.”
“How long?”
“Two years,” he says, as I stop just a few steps away. The slight twitch of his eyebrow is the only clue that he’s feeling the potential energy.
Well, that, and the erection I do my best not to glance down at as I whisper, “Do you miss it? Sex?”
He studies me for a long, stomach-flipping beat. “Sometimes.”
My adrenaline spikes, making my heart pound as I realize I’m about to do it, I’m about to cross a line that we can never uncross. The enormity of it makes my voice shake as I ask, “Is now one of those times? Is that why you’re hard? Because you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you?”
What happens next is a blur.
All I know is that one moment, I’m sliding my hands onto Blue’s shoulders, and the next, his lips are crushed to mine as he jerks the spandex top of my dress down around my waist. And then the tabletop is cool on my back as he surges over me, kissing me like we only have a few seconds until a fire consumes the second floor, and we’re determined to get off one last time before we die.
His hands are everywhere, his mouth is everywhere else, and I’m in such a state of “what the fuck is this magical feeling?” that I can barely function.
I thought I knew what good sex was. Kai and I didn’t have much of it the past few years, but there was a time when the passion between us was hot and heavy.
But it was never like this. I’m alive in a way I’ve never been alive before.
It’s like my skin has spontaneously spawned a few thousand extra nerve endings, and every one of them is calling Blue’s name.
The way he sucks my nipples into his mouth…
The way he gets me off with just a few deep strokes of his fingers. The way he pushes inside me as I’m still coming, his gaze locked on mine as he tunnels deep…
God, so deep…
“It’s even better than I thought,” I breathe as he begins to move, stretching my inner walls until I’m so full it’s almost enough to make me weep with happiness.
With relief. “Even better than I imagined it would be. And I’ve imagined it so many times,” I ramble instead.
“Never stop fucking me, Blue. Never. Please, never.”
And he doesn’t.
He fucks me on his kitchen table, coming deep inside me with a groan that echoes through my bones. Then, he carries me into his living room, where we immediately go again.
It’s as I’m riding him that second time—with his fingers rolling my nipples, while his eyes tell me how beautiful I am, how much he loves being inside me—that a part of me finally clocks that we’re not using protection.
But I can’t bring myself to care, not when every stroke of his cock feels so right.
And when he comes the second time, filling me with a hot rush, it’s so primal, so erotic, that it tips me into my third orgasm of the night.
I come clinging to his bare shoulders, my lips murmuring words of adoration against the salty skin on his neck, while my pussy throbs, giving his cock the round of applause it deserves.
Then, mere moments later, while my soul is still full of sparkles, he tells me that we can never do this incredible, magical, life-changing thing we’ve just done ever again.
He says it was a mistake.
Even worse, he says he’s sorry.
As if he’s taken something I didn’t freely want to give.
It hurts. It hurts so badly, I’m not sure I pull in a full breath until I’m halfway across town in the car he calls to take me home. When I do finally manage to breathe, I immediately start crying again.
I cry and cry, fighting to keep my sobs quiet, so the driver won’t be freaked out.
He’s just trying to earn a living. He shouldn’t have to deal with a stranger’s emotional meltdown in the back of his Chevy Malibu.
Icry on and off for most of the next week, not entirely sure why, but finally deciding that Blue was probably right.
I must still be grieving the loss of my old life.
This certainly feels like grief. All the sadness and regret and pain I pushed away to focus on surviving the initial break-up with Kai and the band comes pouring out in waves.
At first, I try to hide it from Clover, my roommate, but eventually, I give up and tell her that I’m in the depths of despair. That I just need to cry it out.
She agrees that I have to let it happen, so…I do.
I let myself lie on the couch and watch mindless television and cry.
I let myself eat nachos for lunch and dinner two days in a row, while I listen to the playlists I made for Kai back when I was young and full of big, romantic dreams, and cry.
I let myself go through my keepsake box from my years with the band and ache for the good times and the bad times and the people we all were when we first started making music, and cry.
Then, I pack everything away, take a three-hour bath, and emerge feeling lighter than I did before.
I get a haircut and some highlights to add streaks of sunshine to my brown hair in honor of the arrival of spring.
I buy Baylor and Charlotte a gorgeous engagement present—crystal wineglasses from Italy that will be beautiful with the pasta alfresco they make with the vegetables from their garden—and realize I am happy for them. I just needed to let go of the past.
I’m ready to let go now, so ready I’m not nearly as freaked out by those two lines on the pregnancy test as I probably should be. Even a year ago, an unplanned pregnancy would have been a nuclear bomb detonated in the middle of my life.
But now?
Now, it feels like a wonderful—if slightly terrifying—surprise.
I’ve been longing for someone to love, and the universe has come through for me, just in a different way than I expected. But I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and the fact that my baby’s father is a kind, gifted, genuine, hard-working man with a heart of gold is a gift.
This baby is a gift!
I hope Blue will feel the same way, but I’m not really surprised when I corner him at Elly’s baby shower to spill the beans a few days later, and he seems more shocked than pleased. It’s big news. Big, serious news. I get that, I do. But I also have no intention of ending the pregnancy.
So, I assure Blue that he can be as involved—or uninvolved—as he wants to be, kiss him on the cheek, and head home to await his call.
I know he’ll call. I’m sure of it.
When two days pass, then five, nine, in radio silence, I’m a little surprised, but I never doubt that he’ll reach out for a “let’s figure this out” conversation as soon as he’s had time to process.
When the letter arrives via courier two weeks later, it feels like a slap to the face. The envelope holds a note assuring me that it’s best “for everyone” if he’s only involved financially and anonymously, and a check for fifty-thousand dollars.
Fifty-thousand dollars.
As if I don’t have more than enough money.
As if a check was ever what I’d wanted from him.
I don’t know exactly what I wanted, but a package that makes me feel like some kind of blackmailing Jezebel certainly isn’t it.
Ihead for the airport early the next morning.
I assure Clover that I’ll keep paying my half of the apartment’s expenses until I’m ready to come back, and then, I fly away. I fly with my baby growing inside me and fresh wounds on my heart. But as soon as the wheels leave the tarmac, I know it’s the right choice.
I spent over a decade with a man who didn’t understand what I wanted or needed. I don’t need another relationship that makes me feel sad or wrong or ashamed.
Maybe I don’t need another relationship at all.
Maybe all I need is myself and my little one and the chance to give my love away to someone who wants it. Needs it.
Babies all want love, after all, and I have more than enough to give.