“Always a pleasure,” he replies, his brogue extra thick. Extra hot. Damn, he needs to stop showing off his accent.
My mom gives me a quick hug, says bye to Ava and just as she’s out the door, she winks at me.
I totally pretend not to see it.
But once the door closes, it feels like I’m being locked in a tomb with Bram and suddenly I want my mother back because I am afraid like nothing else at what could happen tonight.
Because he’s here. He’s sitting on my couch – my new couch – and he’s staring at me so intently that my bones feel like melting away. That look can only mean one thing.
“Mommy,” Ava says, snapping me back to attention. “Can I stay up with you guys and watch Dora?”
“No, sweetie,” I quickly tell her, grateful for the opportunity. “You have to go to bed now. How about you go brush your teeth. Did your grandma use the spindle and give you the ouchie?”
She nods and then runs off to the bathroom.
“You know what’s going to be nice?” I say to Bram. “Her starting kindergarten in the fall. She’ll be so tuckered out, there’s no way she can stay up late.”
“That will be nice,” he says. “And easier on you, especially if you start working days. You think you’ll still be with the Lion?”
I shrug, glad that we’re talking about other things and ignoring the throbbing elephant in the room. “I’m just taking each day as it comes, to be honest. But yeah, I guess I should keep looking shouldn’t I?”
He purses his lips and drums his fingers along the back of the couch. “Since bartending wasn’t your career choice, you can always start incorporating your dream job back in. You know. Your passion.”
I nod. “I’ll try.” Actually one of things I’ve been wanting to do lately is start sewing again like I used to do as a teenager, but I’ll have to save enough money to get a sewing machine. It’s funny how much I feel like a teen again with Bram around. I want to sew, I want to listen to 90’s trip hop, I want to just let my hair down and be a bit wild and free.
For the first time in a long time, I wouldn’t mind losing my heart. Just as long as I can get it back. When you’re a teenager and you fall in love, you think you’ll never move on once it’s been lost. But you always gain it back, you always fall for someone else. No boy holds it for too long. Your young heart is a wild, elastic thing. Now, I fear that age and time and experience stretches it too hard, too far, and it will never snap back.
But why am I even thinking about love. My mind should be in the gutter, if anything.
“Do you hate the couch?” Bram asks as I go into the kitchen to put on some decaf.
“Not at all!” I tell him. I shoot him a sheepish glance over my shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just surprised. Like, really.”
I look back at the coffee grounds I’m trying to measure and I can hear him get off the couch. I can feel him come toward me. The man carries his own force field and maybe it’s just my hormones or my deprived imagination, but I swear I can feel every hair on my body standing to attention as he approaches.
“It’s a really nice couch,” I say meekly, talking for the sake of talking. Oh man, when I get nervous, I can talk anyone’s ear off. “I think we saw it in IKEA, right? I guess you could have returned the yellow couch earlier.”
“Aye,” he says and now his voice is like a growl. He stops right behind me and I can feel his breath on my neck. “I could have. But I wanted your approval. I told the half-way house that you may change your mind, so they’re holding it somewhere.”
I swallow. “Okay. Um, well, no. It’s for a good cause as you said and I guess we can return to the store tomorrow or some other day for the rest and…”
I trail off because his lips are on the bare spot between my neck and my shoulder and his kiss, so soft, so slow, is literally stealing my breath and my thoughts. I am pure silk in his hands and I have to brace myself on the counter so that I don’t slither to the ground.
But he has me too. He places those warm, large hands around my waist, making me feel so impossibly dainty and one hundred percent his. I lean back into him and he presses his pelvis against my ass. I can already feel the hard contours of his erection, straining for me.
“Mommy,” I hear Ava call from the bathroom. Kid has the worst timing I swear.
I raise my shoulder, trying to shrug Bram off. “I don’t want her to get the wrong idea,” I tell him.
He takes his lips and hands away and I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. He clears his throat. “There is no wrong idea, Nicola. There’s only a right one.”
I twist around to face him but he’s already halfway across the room and going for the door.
Shit. Did I scare him off that easily? The expression on his face is tense and I wonder if I somehow offended him.
“Good night,” he says and just like that he’s gone.
Holy moly. I stare at the closed door a few seconds until Ava runs over to me. “Mommy, can I have toothpaste that tastes like bubblegum? I saw it on the TV.”
I absently ruffle her hair. “When you finish this tube you can.”
I’d never seen Bram so moody before though it doesn’t surprise me. Beneath that easy-going exterior, sometimes I can see the darkness in his eyes, hinting at something underneath. We all have that in us.
Later on, after I put Ava to bed, I find that I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, staring up at the ceiling, pulling the duvet over me as the chill from the Bay wafts into my room. I masturbate soundlessly, getting off to Bram everything – Bram on me, inside me, around me – but that doesn’t help at all. It just makes things worse because I’m so aware of how there’s no substitute for the real thing.
Finally, I get up and go into the living room. I sink into the couch and I’m suddenly so grateful for it. Not only is it stylish, but it’s functional without being too overwhelming - meaning, now my guests (aka my mom) have a proper place to sleep when they stay over. And the dark grey color, it kind of reminds me of Bram’s eyes. Especially when they get all dark, like they did earlier, like storm clouds rolling in.
I’m about to flip on the TV and maybe watch something stupid just to take my mind off things when I look at my phone. It’s just after midnight.
Would Bram be awake right now? It might be crazy, but I feel like going next door. Just to see if he’s up. Just to see…
But I don’t want to wake him if he’s not, especially since he left so abruptly. After all he’s done for me, I don’t want to get on his nerves. Well, maybe just a little bit, but only because it’s so fun.
Maybe I’m finally understanding why he likes to bug me so much.
I sigh, staring at my phone. That kiss, such a simple kiss on my neck and I just wanted to give myself over to him, his forever to have. It surprised me how eager and willing I was to just let him have me, with no regard for my heart or for our relationship or for anything. And I know, I know, I should be using my head above all else. It’s kept me safe over the years.
But I just want to pretend that everything will be all right. That giving myself to Bram will answer all my prayers, even if just for a night.
I pick up the phone and text him. Are you awake?
I wait, staring at it in my hands that are trembling slightly, wishing I could take it back. I wait and there’s no response. He’ll probably get it in the morning when he wakes up and I’ll have to come up with some sort of excuse as to why I texted him.
Then I hear his door closing out in the hall and there’s a quiet knock at mine.
I freeze, my hand to my chest and stare at it for a moment, knowing that if I open it, everything could change.
“Nicola,” I hear his throaty voice whisper.
I get up and go to it, opening it a crack. He’s standing in the hall in just a pair of thin, black pajama pants. Very thin. I can’t help but stare at his crotch for a moment.
“Hi,” I tell him softly, tearing my eyes away, my pulse starting to awaken with lust. “Did I wake you up?”