He looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I can’t believe you’re in it.”
Our eyes met across the table, heat rising between us like steam off a pressure cooker. One minute, we were eating, and the next, I was in his lap.
I don’t remember moving. I don’t remember leaning in. I just remember the way his lips brush mine—like a gasp and a prayer and a curse wrapped into one.
He kisses me like he knew my mouth needed it. Like I’d been waiting for the right moment, and this was it.
My hands fisted in his shirt. His fingers splay on my back. We are a mess of limbs and sexual tension and beer-soaked promises.
And when he carried me inside, he whispered,“I want to make love to you, slowly.”
I can’t say I’m not hot and bothered. I melt when he talks to me like that—like I’m worthy of his undivided attention. I couldn’t say anything because he does that to me, rendering me speechless. Because stopping what he’s about to do to me doesn’t make sense.
Not when I already know what falling feels like.
And not when I want to forget—for just one night—that we have an expiration date.
Tonight, I want to believe we’re real, even if tomorrow hurts like hell.
All fairy tales have a twist. And today is that day.
Mamma called. She’s been calling, and I can’t ignore her anymore,so I answer.
“Is that my little girl?”
Little girl is code for she wants something from me.
“Yes, Mamma. How are you?”
“Well, you’ve been married a few weeks, and I didn’t get an invitation to the wedding, and I certainly haven’t met your gorgeous husband. You did well, judging from what I read in the news.”
“It happened fast. You know how that goes.” I’m sure she’s referring to the fact that he’s a name and makes good money, and she’s looking for a payday.
Mamma’s been married five times. The longest marriage was to my Daddy, and I’m sure he hung in there for my brother. But when it ended, he rarely came around.
“When do I get to see you?”
I know she’s smoking as she passes to blow her smoke ring.
“I’m not sure. We’re pretty busy.”
“Well, you can’t be too busy to see your Mamma.”
“How’s Jack?”
“Great. He’s on the high school football team.”
“Right, he might have texted me about it. He doesn’t say much.”
“Men, what can I say?” She huffs.
At this point, I make a note to reach out to my brother. I need to make sure he has enough food to eat, and I wonder if he has a way to get to football practice.
“You know, we’re a bit short on funds for the electric bill. It’s been super hot. The air conditioner is on its last legs.”
“I’ll talk to Jack,” I say.
“Well, you know it’s very expensive.” She emphasizes the expense.
