Leon's Way Page 24

  “Good idea, Kayla. Give him a ring, please,” I order.

  Kayla knows how to use her voice. Now she’s all but whispering to me. “On it, boss.” Then, she juts a hip and sways over to the phone. It’s her insolent intimacy that makes my thoughts go to Arriane. I want to call her, but she’s probably elbow-deep in Smother business, terrorizing my staff with her pregnant whims and lack of management skills. Such a handful these days. I feel my lip curl in a smirk.

  The Miller tap is leaking. A bartender, whose name I’ve yet to learn, runs for a screwdriver. The handle is about to fall over, and I’m not sure how this happened. I catch it last minute. Ralph is at the other end of the room chatting with a couple of girls, grinning and waving a dishrag.

  “Sir, Adam wants a word,” Kayla purrs. “Do you mind?” She pushes the phone to my ear while I hold on to the tap. This is not good timing, but it’s my business.

  “Yep,” I say.

  “Sir, I’m Adam, one of your employees,” Adam informs me. Kayla leans against the bar top, closing in on me until she obliterates my personal space. With an elbow on my arm, she supports the wireless for me, pink lips pouted in a playful curve.

  “I know. What’s up, Adam?” I look at Kayla: “Lower the phone against my shoulder. I’ll take it.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother, boss.” She winks, getting comfortable between the counter and me.

  On my ear, Adam buzzes, “Sir, I was wondering. My girlfriend is at my house, and I know it’s not policy to let people in for free but we’re both broke. I was going to have a night off with her. Then, Choice needs me, right, and…” Adam stumbles through his plea, not getting to the actual question. The rule he alludes to is news to me, another thing to discuss with Adam.

  “Of course. Bring your girl. Once you’re at the door, have the bouncer buzz me, and I’ll clear you. She’ll get free access and two drinks on the house.” I nod to Kayla, who gives me a chipper bob back, acknowledging my order.

  My man with the screwdriver finally returns. The beer keeps trickling through my fingers, and Kayla bunches up dishtowels to soak it up on the counter in front of me. Yep. Personal space is not one of her fortes.

  Despite the line clamoring for alcohol, somebody’s full attention draws me from beyond the crowd. I lift to stare, and it takes me three seconds to find her behind the row of wiggling partiers. I squint, trying to decide if I’m right.

  I am.

  Man. It’s the strangest sensation. Her face is so unexpected in here. So fucking gorgeous. Eyes wide and wondering, she slides from looking at me to Kayla. “Hold, please,” I tell Kayla. She’s quick to reach for the tap, and I take the needed steps out on the floor.

  Arria hasn’t moved, but her arms cross over her boobs, and I’m mad because she must have come by car. If she’s here alone, she’s in trouble. That’s some serious mileage—anything could have happened! She needs to be in my arms and fast.

  A customer back-steps. It’s only ten p.m., but he’s drunk enough to lose balance and almost step on her toes. I launch forward and grab her, haul her out of the way. “What are you doing here?”

  “No, what are you doing here?” she shouts back.

  Oh, right. This is about Kayla.

  “Working, baby.” I drag my fingers through her long, thick, silky hair and clench them tight to absorb the texture. “Kayla’s like that.”

  Violet eyes find Kayla in a stone-hard stare. “She’s all over you nonstop, you’re saying?”

  “No, I don’t let her.” I shoot Kayla a glance too. Now, she’s helping her colleague, one hand on his hip and with a chin on his shoulder as she holds the tap for him. “I didn’t have time to be squeamish. The tap was literally falling off, Arriane. I did consider barking out a ‘Stop touching me,’ though.” I smirk.

  “Oh!” says my moody, pregnant girl with the huge, gorgeous, mad eyes. She shoves my hands off her and strides past the crowd to the bar. She enters, causing Screwdriver Bartender to look up, surprised. I see a “hey” on his mouth at a customer breaching their work sphere behind the counter.

  I’m close behind. Damn, she’s cute when she’s jealous. Fucking adorable.

  “Kayla?” she says to Kayla.

  “Yes, can I help you?” Kayla is polite with her customers as always.

  “Don’t ever put your paws on my man again.”

  I jump in before more damage ensues. “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Arriane. She’s visiting from Deepsilver.” The grin sits loose on my face. It’s hard to subdue.

  “Goodness!” Kayla beams. With a last rotation of the screwdriver, the other bartender finishes up the little re-installation of the beer tap, and Kayla’s free to greet Arriane. “You’re so pregnant! Ah, what are you having?” She’s truly happy for us, and Arriane’s fury instantly shrinks.

  “A boy.” She isn’t smiling yet, but when Kayla sneaks an arm around her midsection and body-hugs her like they’re best friends—or lovers—Arria sends me a wary look.

  “Told you,” I mouth.

  “Jeez,” she mumbles.

  Leon wasted no time getting me out of Choice. At eleven p.m. we’re already in bed. The cheap motel surroundings mean nothing when Leon’s touch glides over my stomach and he chuckles at the baby sidestepping his hands. My sweetheart is relaxed. Happy.

  Deepsilver, Katsu, his father: it’s far away from us here.

  A small bedside lamp is all that’s lit, casting him in a low light while his hand travels up, over my breast, stopping to knead it once before reaching my lips. I meet eyes that glitter dark. They sink to my mouth, watching his index finger press in. Instinctively, I open to allow him access. A quiet sigh emits from him as I roll my tongue around the digit, suckling.

  “Why did you come, baby?” he whispers. “I’m working, you know.”

  “Because you missed me,” I make out, the words slurred from his finger. “You need time off too. It can’t be all work.”

  We aren’t broaching our issues. He doesn’t say that he gave me space to slacken our relationship, that he’s trying to make it dissipate. I don’t tell him that I’ve come to my own conclusion in regard to our future, how I’m here to fight for it.

  But Rome wasn’t built in one day. Tonight is not about misaligned goals.

  Leon skims down to my thigh, caresses it with a flat palm, gripping around and bending it to a side. Sure fingers touch and discover me like he doesn’t already have every inch of me memorized. Warm, alive, present, he cups me there, holding me still while his mouth goes to mine.

  Leon is here with me. He’s not lost to anger, not using me as a catalyst. I tear up through his kiss. I’m propped against fluffy pillows, and the liquid trickles down my temples. My heart doesn’t listen to me—it does its own thing, scampering off with the fear of needing him forever.

  “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not.”

  His face, his lips. Leon is so much, so intense. All that he struggles with—right now he isn’t hiding. His demons are dormant, but I know they’re still with us.

  Then, there’s the baby. The being a good mother. Doing the right thing. What the fuck is the right thing!

  Close, deep, Leon presses inside of me, causing my channel to clamp around him on instinct. My nipples are hard nubs, and I lift my knees, letting him roll my butt up so he can go deeper. My stomach is in the way, but we make it work, oh, yes we do. Because nothing matters as long as he’s buried deep.

  “Oh, baby,” he whispers, relishing us too. I move with him, barely, but more than enough. He responds, fulfilling my need for him. For this moment, my worries leave me be. He’s everything there is right now. It’s just us, just pleasure, just—

  Ecstasy.

  I wake up with my love sideways behind me. The room is pitch black, the night still a living thing, but he needs us again. A hushed puff bursts against my cheek as he nibbles. He’s got a hand wedged beneath me, forming around my boobs and pressing me to him so we’re skin to skin.

  “M
ore?” I ask unnecessarily. He’s already rock hard and sliding in the slick sensation he left behind last night.

  He shoves in fast, making me cry out. “You feel that?” my sweetie asks.

  “Yes.” I arch my back against him. He’s holding me tight, demanding and taking in short, hard, rocking moves.

  “Get up,” he hisses, desire overruling consideration for me, and it’s so hot, I’m burning for more. “All fours.”

  I barely have time to obey before he slams into me. I squeal, the sensation so exquisite I sink to my elbows. He encourages it, puts a hand on my back and presses down. With the other, he grabs a hip, raising me so he has better access. “You’re my heaven, Arria,” he huffs out. “My. Fucking. Heaven.”

  He leans over me, blanketing me with muscle and warm skin while he fucks me. Gathering my breasts in both hands.

  I’m losing control.

  “Mmm.” My Leon nuzzles in beneath my ear, rumbling against me. “I feel you. Don’t hold back.”

  His words make me tighten faster, and suddenly I’m there. I’m weak and whimpering around him as he pulls out so only the head teases me before he shoves back inside as hard as he can. The bed rocks to the wall, rhythmic, loud in the darkness, my hushed cries spouting on each, merciless thrust.

  “You losing it, baby?” he teases, beating my body with his, skin slapping wet against skin. I sink—I’m not even on my elbows anymore. He’s dominating my mind, my sex, and all the way up to my aching nipples. Sensing how I am, he gives my boobs a one-handed squeeze, and then he stops, dead.

  I moan, still shivering with the aftershocks from him. Leon shoves in again so hard I whimper, and he grows so big I can hardly accommodate him anymore. I wiggle, squirm, wait for this amazing feeling to be over and last at the same time. Again, he pulls out and rocks into me with all his force.

  “Ah,” he breathes, pure satisfaction in a single syllable. His love pulsates out, coating my channel and making me drip. When he separates us, he kisses me and helps me down. I think he’s going to clean me with the towel by the bed, but instead, he lies down with me, runs a palm over my side, my hip, and down my thigh.

  Leon nudges me into the sheets. I’ve got my pillows stacked high, and he makes sure I’m comfortable before his hand skims down to my cleft. I’m sensitive there, but he’s not touching my sweetest spot. He moves down, finding utter slickness, sliding his fingers through it, dipping in for more. Soon his love covers my mound and every crease of my vagina. He hums, satisfied with the sensation.

  “This, baby, is so sexy,” he tells me. Intertwines our fingers and brings us down for me to enjoy our love too. It’s slippery, silky-soft, and I throb for him again, so fast.

  “You’re crazy, Leon,” I stutter.

  “For you.” He nuzzles in against the crook of my neck, tickling me. Blows out a sigh that sounds too heavy for something so good. “I’m not a fucking saint, Arria. I’m trying to let you go, here, okay? You should be helping.”

  My laughter is easy. “I like to be your demon. Can I be your only demon, please?”

  “You’re the devil.” Beneath his joke, there’s an undertone of distress. Exposing how unsure he is of himself in this role.

  There’s respite in physical oblivion. But once we come to our senses, reality waits, gritty and unforgiving.

  “Oh, Arriane!” my mom exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me? The plans changed since we last spoke. I would have insisted on having the whole day off if I knew you’d be here. I could have called Trix—remember Trix who worked with me?”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “She is busy with her husband’s company, but she’d step in for me no problem, especially with how rarely you visit anymore.” The last part isn’t as upbeat as the first. There’s definite resentment. Just… it hasn’t been as enjoyable to visit when I know how my mother feels about Leon.

  “It was a last minute decision, and Leon’s working at Choice this week,” I explain into the phone. “I’ll be knocking on your door in two minutes tops.”

  “Knocking!” she scoffs, and I laugh.

  “Okay, I’ll be breaking down your door in two minutes, belly first.”

  “Careful with my grandbaby,” she play-admonishes.

  Five minutes later, she’s raised on her tiptoes to hug me. I’m not tall, but I’m a house in all senses of the word in comparison to my mother right now. “Goodness, are you sure you’re not having twins, sweetie? You know, I wasn’t aware until the last three weeks with you and your brother. Have they checked thoroughly?”

  “Ha, yes—I’ve got a single inhabitant. He’s just a big boy like his daddy,” I say, flushing at the double meaning. I’m ridiculous. Thank God my mother doesn’t catch on—why would she? This is my one-track mind; I’m fresh from Leon’s bed, my heart is full, and my limbs and secret places sore from him.

  Mom hikes her shoulders up and lets them fall. She rubs her arms, her way of saying she’s uncomfortable, that I can expect a conflict. I know what this is about. I’ll be giving birth any day now so I guess it’s time we have this conversation. She waves me into the kitchen.

  “What do you drink these days?” she asks. Together we were always big tea-sippers. So many good talks over the years. My taste buds have morphed with my body, though.

  “Diet Pepsi.”

  She raises her eyebrows and sees that I’m serious. “Wow. Well, pregnancy does change one’s habits. You don’t overdo it, right?”

  “No, Mom,” I lie—although it’s not that much of a stretch; Leon doesn’t want the baby exposed to it, so I never get my fill of soda around him.

  Head ducked, Mom bustles in the fridge, reaching deep and finding what she seeks. She screws the top of a half-liter and sets it before me with a glass. “Here. Leftover from bridge night. So what are your plans after the baby is born?” she asks.

  “You cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

  She lowers her voice as she sinks down next to me at the table. “We should make the most out of our time before I go to work, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh. Muster courage. “If Leon still wants me, Mom, I’ll be committing to our relationship… long term.”

  The soft lines around my mother’s eyes deepen. Sitting up in the chair, back straighter than before, she’s tense nerves and objections ready to erupt.

  “Mom, we are in a relationship,” I say before she can speak. “Most people don’t break that off when they have babies. Rather the opposite. You know?” I add my little question in a plea for her to understand.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like when it doesn’t work out? You can do this alone—look at us! You and your brother did great after your father left. You didn’t suffer, did you? Not after the initial…” She trails off, remembering Dad’s departure again. “That’s what I don’t want for you or my grandbaby,” she continues, knowing my mind went the same place as hers.

  In general, I’m honest with Mom. It’s almost an innate thing because she’s made it easy to trust her. I had no need to sneak around behind her back as a teenager. She’d always be there for me with advice that mixed adult wisdom, motherly care, and understanding.

  I’m used to being in agreement with her over matters of love. My first middle school crush. My first high school love. My first little heartbreak. All of it, I shared with my mother, and she made me feel better. Today she doesn’t.

  “I need your support,” I beg. “It kills me that you don’t agree. He’s the father of my baby, and I’ve loved him for so long, Mom.”

  “Love doesn’t mean anything,” she blurts out, and I inhale sharply. This is not like her.

  “Are you joking? Mom, please don’t say that stuff.”

  “I’m sorry, no—love is good. Love is what you want, but not at the expense of happiness. Love and happiness don’t necessarily go hand in hand, Arriane, and this man—Leon—from what I understand, it would be an understatement to call him a handful.”

  I feel my shoul
ders hunch around my heart. I’m heavy. My stomach is heavy. My heart is leaden with disappointment and want for approval from Mom. All my friends in high school envied me; some playfully told me they’d change out both parents for my one, because she was perfect and that was all you needed.

  One perfect parent.

  Am I, though? Would I be as good as Mom? Even so… would this baby boy not benefit from growing up with his father if he could?

  “Mother, I’m going through with this. Yes, you were a great single mom with us, but we did have Dad for the first twelve years, and we love him too. There’s a reason why Chahel is in New Delhi with him. You guys didn’t work out in the end, and your heartbreak after he cheated and him moving out… all of that was not something I wish upon any person, least of all my son. But the thing is—I’ve got to stop sissying out because of what happened to you.”

  When I see Mom’s reaction, it dawns on me that I have never given her my side of the story before. She’s stunned, eyes all but bugging at me. The three of us, my brother, Mom, and I, have always spoken about the occurrences as if my brother and I were a part of them. But really, we weren’t. Infidelity has nothing to do with the children. It’s the parents’ business, as is anything “grownuppy” as my brother would have jokingly called it.

  And I’m right in my assumption: “What happened to me?” she says, incredulous.

  “Yes, Mom. We suffered the consequences, but really—we didn’t even know what cheating entailed. I’m thankful that you protected us from everything. You did a stellar job of downplaying and shielding us from your heartache.”

  Her eyes fill with water. Lip trembling even after all these years, she reaches out and draws us cheek to cheek.

  She cries. I cry for her. I don’t miss my father anymore—it’s been a long time. “Arria, I’m just so scared for you. The longer you have with someone you love dearly, the harder it is to let them go. When I said love is what you want, I made a general, brave statement. Still, I owe you a last warning, baby girl: real love never dies. If you open the door, it will imprison you and never let you go.”