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“Oh come off it, Jake … you told me that you didn’t want to be that girl’s father. You don’t want the responsibility of being in her life, in our lives! I knew from the start that you were just here for a good time, and I should have stuck to that notion.”

  My heart burns with fury, and for the first time I know what it feels like when they say love hurts. “That’s fucking bullshit, Samantha! I’m here, I’ve been here. Sure, at the beginning I was a little spooked, but I love you. And I love Lennon. Don’t take this out on me, when all I’m doing is supporting you and trying to help you in any way I can to get through this. Don’t push me away, I love you.”

  I’m saddened that I’m saying those words out of anger. Before now, they’ve only been said in perfect situations. In the middle of vineyards, in front of the Lincoln Memorial with the sun setting. But life wasn’t perfect, and God knew we were far from it. This was real. This was the real shit that Samantha was always talking about.

  My confession seemed to make her stutter, her hand fisted in her hair as tears blinked in her eyes.

  “I should go, I need to be alone tonight. To clear my head. If Derek is serious about this, then we should spend some time apart anyway.”

  She crosses the room, and I reach out, my arm catching the softness of her jacket. “Don’t do this, you don’t mean it. I’m going to be here whether he takes things to court, whether you want to run away from me, whether you think that we can’t get through it together. Don’t go.”

  Her brown eyes shift, her lip trembles. “I have to go.”

  I release her arm, knowing that there is no getting past the blowup tonight. She’s wounded and scared, and I know in this moment that she’s not going to listen to reason. She went from zero to sixty in under a minute flat, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. She’d probably been brewing since the park, since her and Derek sat on that bench and talked. There was no way I could have prevented this.

  “I love you, Samantha. And I’ll be right here when you realize that.”

  All I get is the slamming of my apartment door.

  Twenty-Eight

  Jake

  I gave her four hours.

  Four hours of pacing my apartment, almost ripping my hair out. I even contemplated cleaning the oven, something Alice always tells me makes her feel better, before I decide to go over there.

  I love her, dammit, and I love Lennon. I’m not going to be an outsider during this, and if I have to give Derek a piece of my own mind, I surely will. She may not want to be smothered right now, but too bad. That’s what I was here for, to be her punching bag and pillow to cry on.

  Walking into her building, I wave to Jerry at the front desk.

  “Hey, Jake.” He gives his usual salute, and I remind myself that he wasn’t the guard on duty this afternoon when Derek had come in.

  For that person would surely know something weird is going on. I send up a little thank you to the big man upstairs that Jerry didn’t see the awkward family reunion just hours before, because he might have some questions before I was allowed up to see Samantha. Or worse, make a call up to her before letting me go up. She might say no, and surprise was the only thing working in my favor right now.

  As I ride the elevator up, I think of everything we’ve been through thus far. That disastrous first date where I weaseled out of replacement-dad duty. One hot fucking night at the bar that ended up in my apartment. Jesus, thinking about Samantha naked under me for the first time almost distracts me from what I need to get done. Working hard to keep our relationship going, to even make it exist between our hectic schedules, her daughter, and both of our inabilities to fully commit. And then finally committing, giving in to the feelings and seeing where it went.

  Which brought us here, to me standing in her elevator like some white knight climbing the castle to save her from the dragon. Only we were living in two thousand seventeen, and I wasn’t climbing a rope made of her hair, and the dragon was a metaphor for her own heart standing in the way. Hell, I have been reading way too many fairy tales to Lennon.

  The elevator dings as it hits Samantha’s floor, and I take my keyring out of my pocket, flipping to her key. She’d given it to me two weeks ago, dropping it in my morning coffee cup like some kind of romantic comedy movie. I’d joked with her, making up nicknames for what the movie of us would be called. But deep down, the gesture wasn’t lost on me. It was an advance of our relationship, and it meant she trusted me with her most precious belongings.

  I don’t knock, if she knew anything about me by now, she should know I was bound to come over here anyway. Unlocking the door, I walk in, the apartment quiet and calm without the little rugrat running around before bedtime. It ticked me off that Derek had shown up, a flickering candle of fury had been lit in the back of my mind since he’d walked across her lobby this morning. He had no claim to be a father anymore. Not when he had missed so much, for so long.

  “Babe?” I call out quietly, not wanting to wake her if she fell asleep out of exhaustion.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Her face is makeup free, and I notice my extra-large T-shirt hanging off of her as she walks into the kitchen.

  I don’t give her a minute to start the argument again. Instead, I cross the room, my body quickly finding hers, and sweep her up into my arms, covering her lips.

  “Sto—” she protests, trying to turn her head.

  The dominant in me comes out, forcing her mouth to mine. Samantha wants to put up her walls now, and I want to do nothing but smash them. I use my tongue to coax her aching heart to trust, my teeth to nibble at her stubborn pride. My mouth acts as my reasoning tool, talking to her mind and heart when I physically can’t.

  After thirty seconds of trying to push me away, Samantha melts into the kiss, sighing in a relieved way and letting me take control. I assault her mouth in a slow barrage of kisses, only pulling away when I feel that she won’t fight me any longer.

  “You don’t get to walk away, okay? If you want to use me as a punching bag, do it. But you don’t get to leave.” I press my forehead against hers.

  “Okay,” she whispers, her fingers tangling in my shirt.

  I move us to the small table in her kitchen, realizing neither of us has probably eaten since this morning.

  “I’m sorry, baby …” She chokes it out and then clears her throat. “I just … what if he files? I can’t lose her, Jake. I can’t do the joint custody, shipping her back and forth. And maybe I could if I knew he was sincere, but this is Derek. God, I know I haven’t talked about him much, but he doesn’t care about her. That’s a horrible thing to say about the father of my child, and I know deep down he loves her in some way, but he doesn’t care about her. He doesn’t want the responsibility. How could you not fucking want that?! Just look at her!”

  Samantha buries her face in her hands, and I let her bang a fist on the table in frustration.

  “If she were mine, I’d be calling her every single night to see how her day went. No, actually I wouldn’t. I would fucking be here, move my life so that it could include that little girl. I’m furious he’s here, you don’t know how hard it was to keep my fists by my side while I watched him play with her in the park.”

  “I know that, you don’t think I know that?” she whispers, and I can hear the tears in her throat. “Seeing him again … it isn’t pleasant, babe. I don’t feel the way I once did, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t feelings of regret or resentment there. When I was with him … I thought I was defective. Like if he hadn’t asked me to marry him in all of those years, there was something wrong with me. With her. That we weren’t enough, that we couldn’t be loved enough to warrant that kind of commitment.”

  That flicker of fury turns into a burning torch, and I want to pick up my pitchfork and go hunt the bastard.

  Grasping the sides of her face, I make those chocolate eyes look straight into mine. “And you know that’s not fucking true. I love you, and I love Lennon. He’s an idiot if he can’t see how good
he had it. How good he still does, because clearly that little girl holds no grudge against him.”

  “What am I going to do if he takes this to court?” Her eyes plead with me for an answer.

  “We are going to fight. Hell, I’ll fight him colosseum style to the death. He’s not going to win, babe. Honestly, the guy has shown no balls thus far. He’s probably bluffing because he’s feeling neglected and wants attention from you. Because you gave it to him for so long without him having to give any back. And that’s not on you at all, I’m just saying that it’s his MO.”

  She nodded, still not looking convinced.

  I scoot my chair so that her legs are positioned between mine, and hold her hands. “I promise you, everything is going to work out. And have I ever lied to you?”

  Those gorgeous cherry lips give me a half-smile. “One time you said that you liked my chicken Alfredo, but two weeks later when we were out to dinner you said you hated Alfredo sauce.”

  I tickle her hip lightly. “That was a white lie. And if I’d eat Alfredo for you, bleh, you must know that I love you?”

  “I guess it must be true.” Her hand traces the hair on my arm.

  “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to feed you. Not Alfredo sauce, because I’m not sure why the people of Earth love that cheesy unflavored mess so much, but I’ll whip something up.”

  I go to stand, but Samantha’s hand catches my belt. “What if I’m not hungry?”

  Twenty-Nine

  Samantha

  I hold onto Jake’s belt, my tired mind and body reinvigorating in the way only make up sex can influence a person.

  “I’m a chef, babe. I know how to do two things. Feed and eat. So which one do you want to choose?” His green eyes light with a challenge and I’m instantly damp.

  Half the reason I’m head over heels for this man is because his sexual appetite hits all of the courses on my menu. He’s a real artist in the bedroom, and I’m the lucky recipient of his work.

  “Eat. Please.”

  But I don’t mean him eating me. Before he can move, I unbuckle his pants, pulling his cock out in one swift motion. He’s hard, thick and veiny already … jutting out parallel to my mouth.

  “Samantha …” I think it’s a question or a prayer.

  He fought for me, didn’t let me run when I so desperately wanted to sprint from connection or any hint of complication. And I wanted to praise him for it in the best way I knew how.

  I scoot forward on my chair, making sure to lock eyes with him as I move my lips toward his leaking head. The minute I make contact, one small touch to the crown of him, Jake hisses. He’s salty and musky, an erotic scent that fills my head as I test out my motions. I slide my mouth down over him, taking him as far as I can and wetting his stiff pole. I leave my hands behind my back, knowing this drives him crazy when I only use my mouth.

  “Fuck yes, I love it when you slide all the way down.” He fists a hand in my hair, not forcing, but not letting me up all the way either.

  It’s funny, normally I would have said I didn’t want a man who was controlling during sex. I like to think of myself as an independent woman, and therefore have a mental block when it comes to submitting. But with Jake … it’s so exciting. There is no other word for it. It sends a thrill up my spine every time he demands a little too much. Every time he binds my wrists or holds my head down while I suck him. We don’t use whips, chains or any other toys besides our bodies really … but something about the way he commands just does it for me. Gives me the little extra thrill I need to mark all my checkboxes.

  I’m licking his tip when I’m suddenly hoisted up by the shoulders and begin to move.

  Except, instead of picking me up so we’re face to face so I can kiss him, Jake has me thrown over his shoulder.

  I can’t help but giggle. “What’re you doing?”

  “You deserve a little punishment.” He swats my ass harmlessly. “You started a fight with me earlier, and then you almost sucked me off until I came in your mouth. You know better … I always want to finish inside of you.”

  See, that right there. Filthy mouth, topped off with that sweet dimple. It mixes a woman up in the head, and apparently, my lady parts craved that.

  He threw me down on the bed … which had really become our bed. Jake’s support foam pillow had taken up residence on the left side. With no trouble at all, he lifts his shirt off my body, unveiling my nudity beneath. We both suck in a breath; me as my nipples hit the air, budding, and him at the sight of me. My inner ego preens … Jake always seems to make me feel undeniably beautiful whenever he looks at me.

  “I can think of no better way to make up.” He shrugs out of his shoes and jeans, leaving his T-shirt on.

  And then he’s pulling me to the end of the bed, no warm up, no foreplay. I part my legs for him, my ass hanging over the edge as he holds both legs just below my knees. Standing on the floor like that, he towers over me, his dick positioned at my entrance. I squirm, knowing how he’ll deliciously impale me. This is exactly what I need.

  “I love you,” I breathe as he slides into me, thick and pulsing as he pushes in to the hilt.

  Jake bends over me, hooking my legs around his waist to free his hands and plant them on either side of my face. He looks like a track runner about to win a race, his jaw tight and his green pools intense as they stare down at me. There is something even sexier about making love with clothes on sometimes … the pulling of material, the less is more effect.

  “You. Are. So. Perfect.” Jake hits on the words every time he slides back into me, maintaining a slow but hard pace.

  My toes curl, my thighs shaking as they grip the muscles at his waist. Goose bumps move across every inch of my skin as I get closer to orgasm, the climax coming on like a fever. This time feels different, there are more emotions floating around us. After our fight, it’s a cathartic kind of sex, a rededicating of ourselves to each other.

  It doesn’t take long for all of my senses to act as one. My eyes seeing his body move, feeling him pleasure me. The scent of him, manly and in control, filling my nose. My teeth biting into my lips, almost drawing blood at how much I need to explode. Every groan and growl registering in my ears, heightening my own arousal.

  “I’m going to come.” I don’t know if I say it as a warning, but I find myself nodding, everything inside of me saying yes.

  “Come for me, baby.” Jake thrusts in farther, finding nerves and spots that I didn’t even know existed.

  I focus on his eyes, my vision going white around everything but ferocious, magnetic green orbs.

  “Yes, Samantha. Yes, baby …” His fingers dig into my hips as I let go, and somewhere my conscious brain registers that he’s unraveling too.

  The room is filled with nothing but our sounds of release, guttural calls of pleasure piercing the silence. I let it wash over me, let Jake act like a drug that takes away the worry and pain of the day.

  And when he pulls out of me, crawling up the bed to bury his face in my neck, I breathe him in. The future may be unclear and full of scary uncertainty, but at least I have this man beside me.

  I know now that to try and run, to try and preserve myself, is one level of foolish I won’t be again.

  Thirty

  Samantha

  After Derek leaves to go back to Seattle, with another tension filled discussion in the lobby of his hotel, time seems to drag and fly at the same time.

  September flies by, and October arrives with its annual Halloween costume debacle. Every year, Lennon tells me she wants to be one thing, so I buy the costume, only to be told three days before the spookiest night of the year that she wants to be something else. The month also brings with it more stress at work, preparing the colder climate national parks for the change in the seasons. Nights are sometimes late, and early bird me also likes to start on Christmas shopping before the malls and stores get crazy in November and December.

  My autumn is also filled with Jake, who practically liv
es with us now. His toothbrush is in the bathroom, his sneakers and socks are tossed by the front door. He picks up takeout on his way home, sometimes surprising Lennon with his newest flavor of ice cream as a treat. Once a weekend, he’ll take her by the construction on the new storefront, or for a ride around one of the neighborhoods in the truck. We’re better than ever, even if we do have our fights about leaving dishes in the sink or throwing the comforter off the bed in the middle of the night.

  In some ways, the clock doesn’t seem to stand still. But in others, I’m just waiting for the axe to fall. I’ve only received the occasional call from Derek since he left a month ago, and he usually asks me straight away to put his daughter on the phone. He never mentions filing for custody or what he has up his sleeve; he just leaves me dangling, with little passive aggressive sharks biting into my brain with doubt-filled teeth. Not knowing is the worst part. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, wondering if I should be protecting myself. Wondering if I should get a lawyer or … do something.

  But he still could be bluffing, and if I make a move, there is no telling what damage I could do before he has a chance to back down. I feel like I’m navigating hot lava, trying very hard to stay still or move only when absolutely necessary.

  Trying to push it out of my head, I focus on the Internet browser in front of me. Princess birthday invitations light up the screen, and I add them to my cart. Next month is Lennon’s fourth birthday, and we’re doing a birthday party at the local trampoline place. She won’t stop babbling about it, and it’s over a month away … I find it hilariously cute.

  “Does she have her costume ready?” Jake walks in the door, his face resembling a hyped up puppy.

  “I thought we weren’t leaving for another hour …” He breezes by me, planting a kiss on my cheek as he searches for Lennon.