* * *
“Can I help you do anything?”
I’m not sure about Bridgette’s skills in the kitchen but anyone can cut vegetables. Maybe. “How about you slice the tomatoes, squash, and zucchini while I make the pesto sauce and crust?”
“Sounds good. How do you want ’em cut?”
“Thin and crosswise is best for this dish.”
“Got it.”
I open one cabinet, and then another. “What are you looking for?”
“Mixing bowl.”
“Cabinet to your right.”
“Thanks.” I grab the mixing bowl and rinse it. No telling how long it’s been since it was used last. Brou is neat as a pin but still a bachelor.
“I have to ask. Why is this not weird for you? Why are you not uncomfortable with my relationship with Boudreaux?” Most women would probably be highly threatened by this beautiful woman he once called his wife. But I’m not.
No need to pretend I don’t know what she means. “I embrace the unusual.”
“You don’t think I was a cheating bitch whore for falling in love with my husband’s best friend and then marrying him after I divorced Boudreaux?”
I stop what I’m doing so I can look at Bridgette. “No. Brou explained the why behind your marriage. Your friendship remained intact, and from what I can tell, became even stronger. You were his rock when his grandfather died. So how can I feel anything but respect?”
“Boudreaux had a huge hole torn in his heart when we lost Eli. He’s spent years seeking happiness in things and places it didn’t exist. But I see something different inside him when he’s with you.”
“I’m different with him, too.” More grounded.
“You’re it. The ray of sunlight he needs in the darkness he calls life.”
“Light is easy to love. I want to see all his darkness.” It’s there just beneath the surface. I feel it. And I’ll wait for him to show me.
“He will when the time is right. When he does, you’ll know you have all of his heart.”
All of his heart. The thought of it belonging to me makes me giddy and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
“Do you love him?”
I stop chopping the basil and look at Bridgette. “I do. And it feels exciting and completely insane and irrational, even for me. I haven’t known him long enough to have those kinds of feelings. That’s crazy, right? You don’t meet someone and fall in love in six weeks. Especially when you live six hours apart.”
“Crazy love is the best kind.”
“It’s scary as hell.”
“Loving Warren was like that. Scary. Exciting. Insane. Irrational. Wrong in a lot of people’s eyes. But I don’t care, and I haven’t regretted marrying him a single day. It was the right thing for us, and I’m further convinced of it every time I look at our children.”
“Well, Brou has ruled out both of those options.” I don’t get a say.
“We’ve had quite a few heated conversations about that damn vasectomy. He told me you were okay with it.” Okay is a loose term.
“I am for now.” We’re only six weeks into this relationship.
“I hear a but.”
“Brou told me he doesn’t want to remarry or have children.” And he seemed solid about it. That does not work for me, or the plans I have for my life.
“But you do?”
“Very much. I’ve wanted a husband and children for as long as I can remember.” I desperately desire—and need—the happy family I didn’t get in my early childhood. I want a husband and children who love me in return. It’s the life I didn’t have my first ten years but my yearning has nothing to do with Jimmy and Christie’s mistreatment. It was Mom and Dad who taught me how to love unconditionally. I want that to echo in a family of my own.
I have so much to give.
Dammit. I just want to be loved. I deserve that happiness in my life. And at almost thirty-two, I need to find it soon.
“Don’t let Boudreaux fool you for a minute about having children. Nothing would make him happier than to have his own, but he has an enormous fear of something going wrong again.”
“Yes, he does.”
“I think his mind could be changed about marriage and children, but only by the right woman. There’s nothing I’d love to see more.”
Brou comes into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge and we both go silent. “I know I just interrupted something you don’t want me to hear because you both look like a cat with a canary in your mouth.”
“Just girl talk.”
“Maybe I want to get in on some of that.”
“Okay. I was just telling Wren how much I love my children and what a blessing they are in my life and how I don’t know what I’d do without them and they were worth every bit of risk and I’d do it again in a heartbeat and I probably will when Tripp is older.” Damn, Bridgette. Take a breath.
Brou keeps his back to us and stands at the refrigerator with the door open. “What kind of beer do you want, Warren?”
“IPA.”
Brou doesn’t glance our way as he goes back to the living room.
Fuck. I think that’s bad.
“I think I’ll have a beer.” Or twelve.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” No, it wasn’t her place; this is between Brou and me. But, at least it was her spouting off. He can’t be mad at me about that.
I don’t have the heart to be angry with Bridgette. I really think she meant well and everything she said to Brou was for my benefit.
“It’s okay.” Except I’m not sure it is. He didn’t say a word or even turn to look at me. I wasn’t the one running my mouth about having babies.
No more baby talk. It’s caused too much trouble.
“Tell me about the Lucas Broussard you met thirteen years ago.”
Bridgette bursts into laughter. “Oh, God. Good-looking. Funny. Athletic. Star pitcher on the baseball team. All the girls wanted him.”
“Sounds like the complete opposite of the guy I would have dated in high school.” I was into the hipster artist type. I had dreads my senior year. I bet Brou’s jock ass wouldn’t have given me a second glance in high school.
“He thought he was God’s Cajun gift to women.” That’s funny to me. Brou has never acted as though he thinks he’s hot shit. Although, he so is.
“But he wasn’t to you?”
“Oh, Lord, no. He was always like a brother to me. We acted like buffoons together. Always getting into some kind of nonsense.” Bridgette goes for her purse and takes out her wallet. “Look at this.”
It takes a moment for it to register. “Is that you and Brou?”
“Yep.”
The beard totally changes his looks. He’s so skinny in this picture. Nothing like the muscular man he is today. His eyes are the only things even remotely familiar about the guy in this photo. This is not my Brou. He’s Bridgette’s Boudreaux. And they’re two totally different people. “I can’t believe this is him. He looks so young.”
“This was taken about a month before we graduated.” And about a year later, they were married and expecting a baby.
Bridgette takes out her phone and begins giving me a slideshow of Brou for as far back as her pictures go.
I’m cackling over one of Brou, obviously intoxicated, and wearing one of Ava’s bibs when Warren comes into the kitchen to fetch beers. “What did y’all say to Boudreaux? He hasn’t said three words since he was in here.”
“Wren didn’t say anything. It was all me.”
Warren tosses his hands into the air. “What the fuck, Bridg?”
“I’ll fix this. Give me five minutes before you come back.”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Wren. Bridgette still thinks she can henpeck Boudreaux. Or mother him. I don’t always know which. He usually lets her, but I could see something was different the second he came back. What did she say?”
“It was about having babies.”
“Shit, she
doesn’t want to let that one go.”
Warren stands with his hands on his hips. “Well, I can’t go back in there now. What can I do to help?”
I’m guessing Warren has shit for skills in the kitchen based on the things I’ve heard Bridgette say, so I choose something he can’t possibly screw up. “You can spread the pesto on the galettes except for one. I’m putting tomato sauce on that one for Ava’s cheese pizza.”
Warren does a decent job with his assigned task. “Now you can top them with the vegetables in thin layers.”
I watch his first attempt to be sure he does this job as well as the first. “Like this?”
“Yes. Very nice.”
The galettes are coming out of the oven when Bridgette comes back. “I’m so sorry. I screwed up bigger than I thought. Five minutes wasn’t even close to being long enough for me to deliver the ass kissing it took to fix what I did.”
“Is he upset with me?”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry, it was all me. He’s cool with you. Very cool.”
I’m happy Brou isn’t angry with me, but I’m questioning if this topic is something we should table for another time? My feelings aren’t going to change. I want to be married. I want children. But do I want the happily ever after with Lucas Broussard? Will he be capable of the change Bridg thinks he is?
Is he worth the investment?
The energy?
The heartache?
Lucas Broussard
I can’t recall a time when I’ve ever wanted to put my foot in Bridgette’s ass more. Always thinking she knows what I need. I can’t believe she did that to me.
Fuck. The last two hours were uncomfortable. Thanks a lot, Bridg, for opening your big mouth.
I get three days every two weeks with Wren. I don't want to spend a single one of them with awkward conversations hanging in the air. And there’s a huge one there now.
Babies.
Do I address it? Leave it be?
On the upside, the night started out well. Wren has situated herself into my life flawlessly. She’s full of ease and grace when it comes to four of the most important people in my life. She’s like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into the empty space. I didn’t expect to find that in any woman.
And my sweet Bebelle. Her raving review of dinner was a welcome distraction for the uneasiness created by her mother. Warren used her positivity as a way to break the ice with reminding Bridgette of her promise to kiss Wren hard if Ava ate her healthy dinner and liked it.
I laughed, but not once did I stop thinking about the possibility of losing Wren. And all because Bridgette’s comment will likely spark a difficult conversation I’d rather avoid.
I stretch across my bed waiting for Wren to come out of the bathroom. Seems to be taking a little longer than usual. I hope Bridgette hasn’t caused a problem with her. Or between us. “Everything okay in there?”
“Yeah. Be out in a minute.”
A moment later she opens the door and I can see it all over her face. Something is wrong.
I’m fucked.
“I’m sorry. I’m just going to be honest. I don’t know if I should come out in this or not.” She waves her hand over the sexy nighty she’s wearing. “I brought this because I wanted to be sexy for you but after that fallout I’m wondering if I should put on this T-shirt and boxers in case you don’t feel like having sex.” Is she serious? The only time I wouldn’t feel like sex is when I’m dead. Even then, I’ll probably still want it.
I hold out my arms for her. “Come ’ere, baby.”
I take the T-shirt and boxers from her hand and toss them across the room. “I want you in this.” My girlfriend is smokin’ hot. How did I get so lucky?
“I’m sorry to be weird or kill the mood but I didn’t want to come out wearing this and make you feel like you had to have sex with me if you didn’t want to.”
“You silly girl. I always want to have sex with you.” Every chance I get. How the hell could I not?
“There’s an elephant in the room. A baby one. Do we talk about it?” Here we go.
“Do you need to tell me anything that will affect our relationship now or in the near future?”
“No.” To me, there’s our answer.
“I vote we skip any unnecessary conversation until we come to the point where you or I feel it affects our relationship and has to be discussed.”
“Yes. I agree.” Thank fuck.
I slide my finger under the strap of her white gown. “This is very pretty. Sexy.”
“I was hoping you would think so.”
I slip my hand beneath the nighty and find near nonexistent panties. I rub my hands over the back and discover a thong. “Very nice, indeed.”
I lose the shirt while Wren reaches for the button of my jeans and pulls it free. We both watch her skillful fingers push the zipper of my pants down. Then her hands are inside the waistband of my boxer briefs, pulling both lower as I lift from the bed to assist her with the task. I’m naked, and already hard so my erection juts forward.
She slides one, and then both straps of her nighty off her shoulders. Slowly pushing it down, her beautiful breasts are revealed, and she then shimmies out of her thong. Her eyes never leave mine, and fuck, is it ever hot.
I groan quietly as she lifts one leg and places her knee on the outside of my thigh and then the other. With her arms wrapped around my shoulders, she slowly lowers herself so she’s pressed against my dick. I’m dying to be inside her.
She bites her lip and rolls her hips as she rubs against me.
“I’ve never felt like this,” she whispers as she sinks down, pushing me deep inside her. I know what she means. And I feel it, too.
“I want you so much, Wren.” Every day. Not just three days every couple weeks.
She moves up and down in a slow, deliberate motion. I grasp her bottom so I can move with her in perfect rhythm as she rides me. “You feel so good. A perfect fit.”
She tightens her hold on my shoulders. “I don’t want this to ever stop.”
I glide my hands upward and press her perfect breasts together. I lean forward and suck one nipple into my mouth and scrape my teeth over the hard, wet pebble as I thumb its twin.
I feel the familiar quivers approaching. “Ohh . . . I’m about to come.”
I grab her face and kiss hard as I explode inside her, giving everything I have to give. This isn’t just sex. This is . . . more, and I’m not afraid.
I press my forehead to hers. “I’ve never felt like this either.” I’m not confused by what these feelings mean. I’m falling fast and hard for this woman.
She’s holding each side of my face, stroking my beard. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this . . . that I was going to want you this much and all the time.” Ditto.
“I know. I can’t stand the thought of being separated again for two weeks.” It’s killing me. Talking and texting isn’t enough.
“I try to block it out of my mind so I can enjoy our time together but it sneaks into my head anyway.”
We aren’t fleeting. This relationship isn’t going away. I’m sure of it. “I want to tell Stout about us.”
She leans back to look at me. “I thought we were going to wait and see how things went before we said anything.”
“I know but I don’t want to wait until your next trip to Birmingham. I’d like him and your parents to know so we can be together openly.”
I want the world to know Lawrence Thorn is mine. “What do you say, Wren?”
“Yes. Let’s do it.” She uses her eyes and brows to call attention to my crotch. “But you might want to wear a cup to protect all that. Ollie isn’t going to be happy about this.”
“He probably won’t be at first but I’ll show him I can be trusted with you.” And your heart. He’ll come to see and accept it.
* * *
“Hey, man.” Stout steps inside and we do the half-man-hug-handshake thing. “I’m glad you invited me over. It’s been too long since
we got together to do something like this.” He thinks we’re watching the game on my big screen. Wrong.
Stout stops to take a look at the spread of appetizers on the bar. “Damn. Is that fresh guacamole?”
“It is.”
“You went to a lot of trouble, Tap. I hope you don’t expect me to put out later.” I’d settle for him not killing me at this point.
“Wasn’t me. My girlfriend made all of this.”
“Ah, the girlfriend. How’s that going?”
“Really well. Far better than I ever dreamed.”
“I never thought I’d see you become a one-woman kind of man but she’s changed the Lucas Broussard I know. This relationship suits you. I see how happy you are.” I’m glad he’s seen the changes in me.
“Never been happier. And I’m hoping you will be too when we’re finished talking to you.”
Stout’s head tilts as his forehead wrinkles. That’s one hell of a stare he’s giving me. “About what?”
I motion for him to follow me. “Let’s go into the living room.”
Wren stands when we enter. She’s wearing a huge smile. Wish I were that confident all will go well. “Hey, Ollie.”
He stops, and again, wears a mask of confusion. Briefly. “Oh, hell, no.”
I go to Wren’s side and we simultaneously reach for each other’s hands, intertwining our fingers together. I give her two light squeezes and she returns the gesture.
Stout points his finger at me. “You damn liar. You swore to me you didn’t—”
I put my hand up. “And when you asked me, I had not, so I did not lie to you.”
His hands go to his hips. “But I’d better not ask now, am I right? ’Cause I highly doubt I’ll like your answer.”
Wren releases my hand and goes to him, grasping his arm. “Please, Ollie. Don’t . . .”
He grabs her arms and turns her so she can’t see me. “Lawry. You don’t know how he is with women.”
“I know how he is with me.”
He releases her and looks at me. He’s so pissed off. “When did this start?”
“At the beer festival but we didn’t decide to pursue a relationship until a couple weeks ago.”