He sobbed, and his ass strangled my cock, throwing me over with him. I grunted and buried my face between his shoulder blades as my orgasm swept over me, my vision lighting up with explosive fireworks as I floated in a cloud of ecstasy.
I blindly reached out and hugged Carina and Travis to our sides. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay here in bed and never leave. I inhaled slowly. The scent of sex was in the air, and my softening cock slipped from Jacques.
A bark from outside the room sounded, and I laughed. “Impeccable timing, Zeus,” I mumbled.
“At least he didn’t kick me in the nuts this time,” Travis muttered.
“He was trying to make sure I was okay. He didn’t mean to hurt you,” Carina said, then shifted so she was lying beside him.
“You were supposed to kiss them better.” Travis pouted, and Carina laughed. She crawled down to him and nuzzled his sac. When he widened his legs, she sucked one of his balls into her mouth. He moaned and threaded his fingers through her hair. I propped myself up so Jacques could roll over, and I kissed him long and slow.
Yeah, I never wanted to move.
twenty-six
Carina
Carawasgoingtobe here in a few days, and I couldn’t wait. Excitement fluttered in my belly like butterflies’ wings flapping. It was the longest I’d ever gone without seeing her, and I missed her more than anything. I wanted to be close to my daughter. I wanted to hug her again.
I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. Travis being on another twenty-four-hour shift didn’t help, nor did the naps that I now couldn’t go a day without. Even when I got a good night’s sleep, I was exhausted by early afternoon. Then I’d sleep like the dead for a few hours. I’d been going to sleep at 9:00 p.m.—unheard of for me—but tonight I’d been wide awake since 2:00 a.m.
Our new sleeping arrangement was taking a little getting used to. I’d slept with one other person in the bed before, and when I’d been drunk or Cara was little, two. But having four adults together was new. I was too wrapped up in exploring all that foursomes had to offer to want to sleep when we were in the bedroom—until I conked out at 9:00 p.m., that was. It was as if I was living my wild late-teens and early-twenties now, and my body was saying, “Hell, no. You’re thirty-nine years old, not twenty-one.”
I’d welcomed the few hours of quiet—not because Jacques, Trav, and Linc were too much, but because I wanted to do some work on myself. I wanted a life plan—an idea of where I wanted to go and what I hoped to achieve.
I had to keep reminding myself that my time here was limited. If I didn’t, I’d create some fantasy in my head where we stayed together and lived happily ever after. Then when reality hit at the end of our twelve months, I’d be heartbroken again.
So I needed a plan.
Did I want to get back into music? Did I want to go to university to study it? Did I want to play socially? The truth was, I didn’t. I’d had fun playing with the band, and I’d love to have my violin sent over, but I wanted to enjoy it as a hobby, not professionally.
The thing that stood out for me, that had made me the happiest, was watching my baby girl grow up. I’d raised a strong, independent, beautiful woman. The photos of Cara growing up reflected that—the first day at school when she comforted me because I was crying, her birthday when the other girls were doing pamper parties and she’d asked for a potato book party—literally potatoes cooked different ways with quiet reading time—book week at school when her costumes were ever more elaborate with the more advanced books she read, vacations together where we always visited at least one library and museum, and, more recently, graduations, and photos of her, Monroe, and Alec. My baby was grown. It had only felt like a handful of years ago that I’d held her in my arms for the first time. Now, she was starting her dream career and moving across the world to be with her boyfriends.
I was excited for her. Nervous too. Cara starting this new chapter of her life was incredible. I couldn’t wait for her to be immersed in all the amazing experiences that lay in front of her.
I was a little sad, too, though. It was silly, really. I wouldn’t lose her. We would always be in each other’s lives. It didn’t matter whether she was five or fifty-five; I’d still be her mum. I’d still want to talk to her and be there for her. I’d had twenty years with her, seeing her every day and watching her grow, and I knew I’d have many more years with her.
But revisiting the photos was bittersweet. There were so many photos—so much of Cara’s childhood—that I barely remembered. Then I looked at the date and remembered the deal I’d been working on, or I found product photos mixed in with the happy snaps and I’d remember. I recognized family memories based on what I’d been working on. My whole adult life had been lived in reverse, neglecting the truly once-in-a-lifetime experiences with my daughter in favor of the grind. I’d been working toward a goal that wasn’t my own, aiming for money and success. But it had never been enough—it would never be enough—because now that I didn’t have the career or the money, I was the happiest I’d ever been.
If only I’d learned it earlier.
Twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye, and I would always live with the regret of missing those irreplaceable childhood moments. I simply wasn’t present enough. I may have been physically there, but I was focused on something else entirely.
If only I could relive it all. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that I could turn back time to fix my regrets. But if I had my time again, I’d do things differently. I wouldn’t change a thing about Cara.
I would changeme.
I sighed and looked back at the image of David, Cara, and me on vacation with Sophia, Pierre, and Jacques.
“Hey,” Jacques said from the doorway. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
He slipped onto the sofa next to me and cuddled in close. “What are you up to?”
“Looking at old photos.” I turned my laptop to him and giggled when his eyes widened.
“I must have been ten there.” He huffed and shook his head. “My God, that hair. What was I thinking?”
