Black Swan Affair (30 page)

“I thought Killian’s love defined me, but your love changed me forever. I’m so sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

Oh hell…that was pretty profound and romantic.

I can’t stand the space between us any longer. I band my arms around her and hang on for dear fucking life. So does she.

My Maverick.

My swan.

My wife.

M
avs
and I were apart for exactly sixteen days, twelve hours, and seven minutes. I know this because I couldn’t stop counting those fuckers off as my life blurred by without her. Then, exactly sixteen days, twelve hours, and eight minutes later, she was in my arms.

I’ve called in sick the last two days—something I’ve never done. We haven’t left the hotel room. We’ve slept the days away and talked the nights through until our throats were sore. She told me everything. Some of it shocking. Some of it not.

The fact that Killian asked her to leave me for him? Not shocking.

The fact that she chose me? Quite frankly…I’m still trying to take that one in.

The fact that she kissed him in Harbor Park? Hurtful, but not shocking. I think in a way she needed “The End” to be written so she could close that book forever.

But the revelation that Arnie Shepard fathered Jillian’s baby? Like a Taser hit me full force in the nutsack. I did not see that one coming. I have to hand it to Killian; he sacrificed a lot—no, he sacrificed
everything
—to save a man who didn’t deserve it. But I understand why he did it.

Honestly, I’d like to think if I were in his shoes I’d have made the same decision, the same sacrifice. But I’m not sure I would have. He selflessly gave Maverick up. He had to know he was risking losing her forever, yet he did it anyway. And I know what a gut punch it feels like to know she’s not yours. We’ve walked in each other’s shoes too many times to count over the years, so regardless of the fact he tried to steal her out from under my nose, I will always have a certain measure of respect for him.

Maverick sighs against me, snuggling closer, mumbling something in her sleep. She’s exhausted after I spent the last three hours gorging on her. Her knee grazes my dick and he immediately starts flying at half-mast. I want to wake her and go another couple rounds, my need for her rabid after being parted for so long.

But I need some shut-eye myself. Tomorrow’s a full day. I’m taking the rest of the week off. Uncool after just a couple weeks on the job, but Gaylen insisted—very pointedly—I was to be with my wife for the rest of the week and stop pretending to have the fucking flu.

I’ve developed quite a camaraderie with my new boss, who has been wooing me away from DSC for months. We became friends after meeting in the bar at a conference two years ago. I eventually confided in him about my situation with Maverick and Killian. He was the one to make me see leaving Dusty Falls was my one and only option to save my marriage. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would have considered it knowing how it would upset Maverick. There are a lot of good memories in our childhood town, but the bad were starting to overshadow them. I started to see he was right.

When it became clear Killian wasn’t going to let her go after he divorced Jillian, I had to get us out of there. It was the one selfish move I’ve made in my lifetime, but I would do it over and over again. It wasn’t to keep secrets from Mavs, it was to keep
her
. I’m only glad she forgave me for not trusting her to talk it through instead of just springing it on her. All I can say is that I was a man blinded—literally blinded—by love for a woman. She has affected my sight in every conceivable and inconceivable way.

So tomorrow we go house hunting and start planning our new life in Minnesota. Together. And nothing or no one will take her from me again.

I
’m falling
. It’s so black I can’t see a thing as I fall past nothing and everything.

I fall…

…and fall…

…and keep falling, knowing any second now I’m going to hit bottom.

But I don’t. I just keep tumbling.

I’m lost. So very lost.

So alone and so lost.

Why am I so alone?

I hear my name.
“Maverick.”
I don’t know where it’s coming from. I hear it again. It’s urgent, demanding.
“Maverick.”
I open my eyes wider. Try to see who’s calling me but it’s no use, so I close them again and just wait for the end to come.

Then I’m being shaken. A sting flares up on my cheek, slowly drawing me out of the horror I thought my life had become.

“Maverick!”

I blink my eyes open, realizing I’d been dreaming. It seemed so real.
Felt
so real. The features twelve inches from mine gradually come into focus and I see the sweet face of the only person I want to.

“MaryLou,” I sob, remembering where I am and why I’m sitting in a darkened chapel. “You’re here.” I pop up and throw my arms around her. “You’re here, you’re here,” I keep repeating.

“I’m here,” she keeps saying back. Then she pries me off. It takes great effort because I’m holding on to her like I haven’t held on to anything before. Grabbing me firmly by my arms, she gets right in my face. Makes sure I’m paying attention.

“He’s alive, Maverick. He pulled through surgery.”

Instantaneous sobs rack me. “He’s alive?”

“He’s alive!”

“He’s alive,” I repeat. Denial and elation battle fiercely. Is my mind playing sick tricks? Am I still dreaming?

“Yes. He’s in recovery and they’re moving him to ICU. They said the next couple of days are critical, but the bullets miraculously missed all his vital organs. He’s alive. He’s going to make it. I know it.”

“He’s alive,” I mumble. Then my body reacts. I’m up off that pew. I vaguely realize the old woman is gone, but I don’t care. I push through the chapel doors. I sprint down the halls. I will the elevator to rise faster, all the while chanting under my breath…

“He’s alive.”

“He’s alive.”

“He’s alive.”

I place a protective hand over my belly and whisper to the tiny life growing inside me. The one I just found out about this morning and whisper, “Daddy’s alive.”

E
very fucking
part of me aches. Burns like a motherfucker on fire.

My head.

My skin.

The tips of my fingers and the backs of my knees.

My goddamn heart feels as though it’s working overtime to get me from one minute to the next.

My eyelids have to be made from sandpaper. I can’t get any relief.

“Kael,” a familiar voice calls softly.

God,
that voice
. That hauntingly beautiful fucking voice. My skin burns where a hand now rests on my shoulder, gently stroking down my arm before starting over again. It’s her touch. I’d recognize it anywhere. Even my dreams morph to cruelty, emulating my waking hours.

“Kael, please open your eyes,” she coaxes.

No. I can’t do it. I won’t open my eyes to watch her fade away like so many times before. A distant, incessant beep tries to peel back another layer of my fantasy, plunging me once again into a horrific reality. The one without Maverick. I hang on to my make-believe world just a little longer. I shift. I think I moan. There’s rustling and then warmth rushes through my veins, numbing me from the inside out.

Yes. I want to stay here with her.

“Kael, please.” Her voice cracks like she’s still here. As if she still cares. “I need to know you’re real and alive and with us.”

“Maverick,” I moan.

“Yes.” She sounds excited. That small hand now circles my own and squeezes. Skin-on-skin contact. I sigh in absolute fucking heaven. “I’m here. Please open your eyes.”

“You’re not real,” I tell her plainly, my vision still blissfully dark.

Then I feel her breath ghost over my face a second before her lips land on mine. They move gingerly and slow. Barely touching me, but they’re so pillowy and supple and feel so goddamn real I choke out a sob.

And open my eyes.

Timeless, red-rimmed emerald ones stare back at me. They’re wide and scared. I try to blink her away, but her red, splotchy face isn’t fading. It’s only blurring. I attempt to lift my hand, needing to touch her, to wipe away the unhappiness I see rushing down it. Jesus, I need to make sure she’s not a figment of my imagination, but my hand is heavy and not responding.

“You’re here,” I breathe. It’s a question.

Her mouth turns up, but it’s fleeting. “I’m here. I’m here. How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling? How the fuck am I feeling?
Elated
. My wife is here.

That beeping noise gets louder. Antiseptic suddenly pierces my nostrils. The coldness of the air starts infiltrating my skin. I don’t want to look away from her beautiful face. The second I do I just know she’ll be gone. But this foreboding feeling crashes over me like a rogue wave I can’t stop.

It’s sticky and skin prickling. It’s
fear
. I recognize its icy claws right before they sink deep. Only this time it’s not because I’ve lost Maverick. I haven’t. I remember that now. She came back to me. It’s because of the rapid gunfire and ear-piercing screams of terror that still linger in my ears.

Holy fuck.

I was shot.

Shot in my place of work by the man we’d just fired three hours earlier for sexual harassment of another employee. The same one we’d come to learn had three complaints filed against him in three different states. I was barely a month on the job at Braham when utter fucking hell broke loose.

I don’t know how many times hot lead was pumped into my body but I know it was more than once. The agony I felt before I collapsed was beyond excruciating. But the sorrow at knowing I would never set eyes again on Maverick was debilitating.

I’m alive, though. I don’t know how many others are sharing my fortune. I find I can’t think about that now. About the hows or the whys of surviving. Staring at my gorgeous wife, all I revel in is that I am here. Maverick is by my side and God spared my life so I could see her again. He answered my prayers as I let the pain take me under, thinking I was sucking in my last breath.

I start to cry, which makes Maverick cry harder.

“It’s okay, Kael.” She lays her head lightly on my shoulder, careful not to jostle me. The pain sits there, slithering under my skin, just waiting for the morphine to wear off. But I ignore it, focusing all my attention and effort on my sobbing wife.

“I’m alive.”

Her body shakes as she repeats, “You’re alive. You’re alive.”

I’m fucking
alive
.

My wife is by my side…and I am alive.

That’s the last thought on my mind as I let whatever they shot into my veins drag me under once again.

I
t’s back
.

That horrible, panicky feeling that twists my insides to knots. The void slinks over me and I feel helpless to stop it. I’m hovering on the cusp of something that is bigger than me when I’m vaguely aware of the bed dipping. Of the sheets sliding down my thighs. Of fingers climbing their way back up. But when that tiny hand circles my steely erection and those sweet lips wrap around the tip and suck, my eyes fly open and snag the most mesmerizing sea-colored pools that exist. They’re alight with unconditional love, glassy with unmistakable lust.

Then I know I’ve been dreaming. Again. My perpetual nightmare starring those unbearable few weeks when I thought my life was over. Both literally and figuratively.

“Morning,” she whispers, swirling her tongue through my slit before taking me back in.

“Oh, fuck, yes.” I palm her head and squeeze the base of my dick with the other hand, willing my seed to stay put for a few minutes so I can bask in the unholy pleasure that’s her mouth.

I fight the natural instinct to close my eyes, needing to soak in a moment I wasn’t sure I would have again.

Ever since I’ve come back from the brink of death, I’ve been loath to let her out of my sight, even in sleep. Getting gunned down in the workplace by a madman tends to have a profound impact on one’s life. But I daresay it wasn’t even in the same ballpark as the thought of losing the love of my life to someone else.

Quite frankly, I’d rather
be
dead if that had happened. And I know I’m lucky to have survived three gunshot wounds. Four people didn’t make it out that day when an ex-employee lost his shit and unloaded over two hundred and fifty rounds into the offices of Braham Construction before taking his own life.

Only days before our one-year anniversary, just when I thought I had everything, I almost lost it all.

The slight twist of my balls brings me back from less pleasant thoughts to her. And to the fact I’m going to blow in about five seconds, tops. I scoop my hands under her arms and drag her up my body until I have her positioned just right. “Ride me, Swan.”

Her green orbs are this glazed, half-lidded mess of sexy. She is utterly bewitching when she is turned on. “But I want you to come in my mouth.” She’s breathless as she obeys my command and her pussy swallows my length whole, making my eyes roll.
Sweet, merciful Jesus. Thank you for her.

Grasping her nape, I draw her to my mouth. “Not this time. I went six weeks without you wrapped around my dick, Maverick. I’m going to be inside you every chance I get.”

Oh, yeah, I’m grinning like a son-of-a-bitch about now and it’s not because I’m insanely happy when I’m buried between my wife’s snug walls. I am, but that’s not why.

I’m a dad.

Avery Jameson Shepard, born June 3.

“I’m going to come,” my wife announces in my ear just as our little girl starts fussing in the background.

I take over now; shifting so I can hit her smack in the spot I know drives her wild. “Good. Let’s come together.”

“Oh God, Kael.” Her pants, moans, and erotic hitches are my undoing. I release violently, hoping she’s with me, praying I didn’t leave bruises on her fair skin where I gripped her like a vise.

As I catch my breath, my gaze travels over to the framed selfie of us in the Casey’s bathroom so long ago now. We are flushed from sex and grinning like fools. Mavs has two thumbs up and this gleam in her eye I’ve come to know very well. Sated bliss. The picture sits on my nightstand, a constant reminder of how very much I love this crazy, impulsive woman.

“Christ, how I love you, Swan,” I tell her softly, stroking her now damp hair from her forehead.

She sighs. It’s contented and happy. “So much you want to marry me again?”

“Yeah, about that…”

She pops up, still straddling my softening dick, her mouth gaping open. Laughing, I grab her face, and, with my thumbs hooked under her chin, shut it. “I do believe I told you I would renew my vows with you every single day for the rest of my life.”

That earns me a double-wide smile. “You did.”

“And that my life has
always
been pledged to you.”

“You said that too.” I did not just mistake the sultry tone her voice took on. I start thickening back up as her hips begin their seductive, alluring roll, but a glance at the clock shows we don’t have time for another round as much as I wish otherwise.

Kissing her swiftly, I scoot us to the edge of the bed and stand up, dropping her from my lap. I turn her and swat her ass, guiding her toward the bathroom. I know that whine of Avery’s. We have less than four minutes before she’s full-fledged wailing.

“Up and at ’em, Swan. We need to shower and get Avery ready so we’re not late.”

How is it possible that one extra bundle of ten pounds has doubled the time it takes to get out the door?

Maverick tries to dart from my hold to get our daughter, but I usher her into the shower instead. “She’ll be fine for a couple of minutes. Let me wash you.”

She reluctantly gives in, but I make her enjoy our short time alone. It’s harder to come by these days, but I’m not complaining. When we emerge from the spray, Avery is out-and-out wailing and my cell starts ringing. We look at each other and just smile, overjoyed to be living a crazy, stressful life.

“I’ll get Avery. You need to get ready,” I tell her with a peck to her plump lips.

“She’s probably hungry.”

The phone stops, but Avery’s cry has now turned shrill and angry. “Then I’ll stall for time while you dry your hair.”

“Good luck.” She laughs. “I’ll be fast.” Watching her wrap a towel around her luscious curves, even more pronounced with Avery’s birth, makes me sad. She swats me and tells me to go. I run to get our baby girl, trying unsuccessfully to calm her. Finally I give up. On my way to Maverick, I freeze in the doorway of our bedroom.

Maverick has her back to me, talking low. Her head shifts my way due to Avery’s fussiness. My cell is pressed to her ear, and by the look on her face, I know exactly who she’s talking to.

“I appreciate that, Killian. I know Kael will, too.”

She pauses, listening to my brother on the other end. A sad sorta smile tilts her lips. Like the giving man he is, Killian graciously accepted Maverick’s decision. Even tries to stay in touch once in a while. Especially on special days, like today. But I know it’s hard for him. How can it not be? He doesn’t have the woman he’s longed for his whole life. Someone else does.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you called.” Another pause. “Yes, she’s hungry. Do you want to talk to Kael?” She eyes me while waiting for his response. “Okay. Bye,” she says softly.

Surprisingly, she hands me the phone. We swap and she quietly exits with Avery, who has calmed substantially now she knows she’s going to be latched to Maverick’s breast in a few seconds. “Hey, man. How are you?”

“Busy. Putting in lots of hours.” My brother’s voice sounds tight and strained. It always does when we talk nowadays.

“I bet. Heard DSC won the O’Hare project.”

“Yeah. Quite a coup.”

Small talk blows. “So…”

“Yeah, so, I just wanted to tell you I’m thinking about you and Maverick today and…that I’m happy for you both.”

I don’t say anything for a second or two. He’s a bigger man than I could have ever been in this situation. No fucking way could I have called with my congrats. “Thanks, Killian.”

“Well…”

Yeah, our conversations are still stilted and awkward. I cut him free. “Hey, I gotta run. We’re gonna be late. We’ll talk soon?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

I hang up and only dawdle for a few beats before swinging into action. Dressing. Packing. Burping. Codling. Changing. Diapering. I move with an efficiency I’ve mastered over the past couple months, but even so, it takes us over an hour and a half before we’re all three buckled in the car. We’re ten minutes late, but we’re getting better at juggling a newborn and ourselves.

Half an hour later, we pull up outside the church. Avery’s sleeping soundly in her car seat with a full belly and a clean romper, after spitting up all over the dress Mavs had bought just for today. “Should we do this?” I ask.

“Hell yes.”

She’s absolutely beaming. God, I’m one lucky man.

We collect our daughter and quickly make our way inside the Cathedral of Saint Paul. Another thing a near-death experience tends to do? Deepens your faith. I had a lot of shit to deal with after the shooting. Mavs had a lot going on with not only losing her father but discovering all of our betrayals and taking care of me for months while I slowly recovered.

The last year has been both the best, yet probably the worst, of my life. I married the woman of my dreams. Then I almost lost her. I saw the edge of death and witnessed the miracle of life. I moved, started a new job, and started job number three after I recovered from my injuries. Mavs sold her business to MaryLou and is now a full-time mom in the first home we bought together.

It’s been a lot of shit to deal with. But Father Reddick has helped us through it and we’ve grown close. And because of that, he’s agreed to do a special rededication ceremony and let us just speak our hearts freely. He knows all that we’ve been through. Well…most of it anyway.

“Ready?”

“We’re ready,” I tell him.

Father R. eagerly takes the car seat from my hands. I throw him a look not to wake Avery. He only winks, walking away. I hear him cooing at her. I just shake my head.

Our hands locked together, we make our way through the huge, barren church. This is so different from the last time we pledged our lives in front of hundreds of family and friends. That day still lives in my memory. How she took my very breath away.

H
and
to the good man himself, when Maverick walked down the aisle on her father’s arm I cried. Tears of pure joy and gratitude sprang into my eyes and I’ve not been able to get rid of them since. I’ve been standing here with her at my side thinking I am the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. She is a vision, yes. That was a given, but I am marrying Maverick DeSoto. I know she’s nervous, uncertain even. I’m not a fucking idiot to know her heart’s not 100 percent into this, that it’s still broken over Killian, but I have so much love inside, I know it’s going to be enough for both of us.

Father Tiegs’s booming voice commands us to turn to each other and hold hands. I can’t spin fast enough.

“Kael Shepard and Maverick DeSoto, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

I know I have. It makes me ache to think Mavs hasn’t, yet we answer in unison, “We have.”

“Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

I will not only honor her. I’ll worship her, revere her, make sure she wants for nothing. “We will.”

“Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?”

She hesitates. It’s slight but it’s there. I start to answer, “We will.” She’s a half second behind.

“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”

I look to Father Tiegs. He nods indicating it’s time to speak the words I’ve memorized. I take half a step into Mavs, gaze deeply into her eyes, and repeat the bland Catholic vows, but there’s so much more I want to say. I want to tell her there’s nothing I won’t do to make her happy for the rest of her days. I want to tell her no one can possibly love her with the depth I do. I wish I could get her to understand she’s not making a mistake by becoming my wife because there is nothing in my life I will treasure more than her.

She repeats the same vows, but while she says the words, I know her thoughts are far away. I bury that hopeless feeling in the depths of my mind. She is mine now; that’s all that matters.