My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) (27 page)

This brings us back to the present. Both completely sated, and having some nice R&R on a lovely Sunday afternoon. I’m just about to get to the good part of my book when I see the shadow on my screen.

“‘ . . . as he thrusts his muscled cock into her mouth . . . ’ What in the hell are you reading?” Ian questions from behind me. His grabs for my iPad but I block his view.

“Hey, back off, pal.”

“Not a chance. What are you reading? Porn?” He goes for a steal again and fails.

“Porn? What?
No,
this is just something I picked up. Not sure what it is.” Total lie. It’s only my favorite erotic romance series that I’m reading for like the billionth time.

“That’s porn. He was about to mouth fuck her.” My mouth drops at his vulgar comment and when I turn to gawk at him, he takes his chance and snatches it right from my grip.

“Hey!”

“ . . . into her mouth as he grips her hair violently, tears streaming down her face. She wants—” He can’t even finish reading he’s laughing so hard. “Who’s the dirty bird now, huh?” He smirks at me.

“Give it back, Ian.”

“Man, I must not have done a proper job earlier if you still have to read this porn book. Should we see what trouble we can get into in the hall closet?” He smirks, eyeing me with a forty/sixty expression. That’s forty percent joking and sixty percent dead serious.

“Give it back.”

“No way, maybe I should continue reading this to see what you like. Get some pointers.” I have to be so flushed right now it’s impossible not to react. I’ve never been into crazy heavy shit but to reenact some of those scenes with Ian would—holy cow—be amazing. He watches as my eyes dilate at the fantasy and laughs. “You little minx, you.” He lifts my device above my head so I can’t swat at it and attempts to continue reading. Thankfully, the book disappears because a FaceTime call comes through, interrupting this very embarrassing but hot story time.

“Huh, who’s the, uh, special person you have calling you?” He doesn’t need to show me for me to know it’s Lexi. The photo I have saved of her was from Fat Tuesday this past year. Lexi was, shall we say, way over-served and was giving me the infamous tongue between the fingers gesture.

“Give me that,” I demand, waving my arms above the impossible reach of my gadget.

“Nope. I got this one.” With that, he swipes the bar and takes the call. I can’t see but I hear the familiar noise of the FaceTime call being connected and the video activating.

“Hey skank—holy shit, who are
you?
”

He chuckles at this greeting. “Hello there, you must be Lexi, I presume?” he asks and I hear her moan.

She did not just moan.

“Damn, I will be whoever you want me to be. Did I dial the wrong number?” I hear shuffling most likely because she’s searching for her contact list. I’m guessing from the time that she’s well into SF and there’s no way she’ll find that list.

“Wait . . . wait . . . oh, I know you! You’re the ex. The no-shirt-on ex. So hot.”

“Okay, enough, give me that!” I say.

“No way! Don’t put her on. You’re just fine to look at,” I hear Lexi sing. “So, Hottie Ex. Why no shirt? Is my friend in the same shape?” she asks and Ian blesses us both with his glorious laugh that will melt any women’s heart—or panties.

“I think I just soaked my thong at the sound that just came out of your mouth H.E.”

“Oh, my GOD! Shut up, Lexi! And you!” pointing to Ian, “You hand it over or I swear the only thing you’ll eat is in the form of processed foods, if you catch my drift.”

“She’s all talk, buddy, don’t worry about her.”

“I don’t know, Lexi, she looks pretty serious right now.” He winks at me.

“All talk, no bite, Hottie.” As Ian debates that comment, I know he is also envisioning me biting. And duh, that would also be superhot.

“Seriously? Are you two like eye fucking right now? Hey!” she yells through the iPad. “Hey! Focus! I need to know, Hottie Ex, do you have a brother?”

Oh, God.

“It’s Ian, and no brother, Lexi, sorry,” he states, not taking his eyes off mine.

“Okay, well, what’s your last name? You can never be too sure. There’s this site that can actually tell me if you have any living relatives, hopefully a long-lost twin brother.”

“Give me the iPad, Ian,” I state. “My threat stands. Think about it.”

Ian chuckles, but then gets that look like I might be serious, so he quickly hands over the pad. I sit up, Ian following suit behind me, and place the device in front of me to see Lexi with a very tall Bloody Mary in front of her.

“Dude. Awwwwwwwww,” she wails into the phone.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” I take in her appearance. “And how much have you had to drink?” I note her disheveled hair and the stacked up empties on the table.

“Well, I’m drinking for two since your ass totally ditched me, so back off. And I’m a
wwwing
because you two look sooooooo cute!” she hums. Ian wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head on my shoulder to get a better view of the screen.

“Ian . . .
Iaaan.
Oh, Ian. Ian. Ian. Ian—”

“Dude,
now
what’s wrong with you?” I ask. It’s like she’s malfunctioning or something.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just testing out his name. I like it. I’d moan that shit. Totally moanable.”

This is not happening right now.

“Oh, she moans it just right.” That’s Ian, and his comment is mumbled into my shoulder while he flicks his tongue onto my bare skin.

“Oh, would you stop egging her on please.” I turn to scold him. His beautiful greens are singing with mischief and I have a feeling that closet challenge will be tested once we end this call.

“Hey, Lex, I have to go, I’ll call you later.”

“What? Wait! Fuck no! Don’t get off with me just leave it on!” Perv.

“Hey, I’ll call you later. Okay?”

“Noooo—”

“Who are you talking to?” We both turn to see Pippa standing at the end of the couch rubbing her eyes. Ian, realizing he’s holding me a bit too intimately, releases me quickly to sit up straight on the couch.

“Oh, hey, honey. Um, we’re just talking to my friend, Lexi.”

She looks intrigued so she walks over and climbs onto my lap. I pull the pad away from my face so she can get a good look at the screen. “Watch your mouth, Lexi,” I warn her before she even has a chance to talk.

“Are you a pwincess?” Pippa chirps out.

“Phsst duh, who isn’t, you cute little creature.” Lexi beams.

“What are you drinking?”

“Fairy juice.”

“What does fairy juice do?”

“Gives me power to find a prince?”

“And will he take you to his castle when he finds you?”

“God, I hope so . . .” she starts to slur.

“Okaaay! We’re done here. Say bye to Lexi.”

“Bye bye, Wexi,” Pippa says and bounces off my lap, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Awww, I love your new life, what does your neighbor look like?”

“Geez, I don’t know.” I fight the chuckle.

Something catches Lexi’s attention, thankfully allowing us to end the call. I sit back against Ian’s chest while he wraps his arms around my waist.

“You have an interesting friend,” he points out.

“I know.” And I love her for it.

“She seems like she misses you.”

“She does.” I can tell she does. We lean on each other a lot and I couldn’t imagine if Lexi just took off on me, leaving me to keep myself together.

“Do you miss your life? Back home?” he asks. I don’t answer right away. And I think that worries him. I feel his body go a bit tense waiting for my response.

“I do and I don’t. I miss Lex. The gallery. I miss the rush of the job and the comfort of my friend. But I don’t miss the constant partying. The constant numbness I felt.” I turn in his arms so I’m now facing him. “I don’t miss having a missing link to my heart.”

His eyes show he registers my words. I think, for once, I have just rendered my man speechless.

“We should probably go check on Pippa.” I break the moment.

He nods and releases me. As I make it to the entrance of the kitchen, he calls to me. “For what it’s worth, I can’t explain to you how good it feels to finally be able to breathe. Having you home, it’s as if I’m not suffocating anymore.”

I cannot tell you what happened next or how I responded to that confession because I’m pretty sure I swooned.

Or in realistic terms, bit the dust.

N
O ACTUAL SWOONING WAS
done, but Ian did send me into emotional overdrive and ended up having to get up from the couch and come shake me back to reality. Then onward with the day we went.

Fast forwarding, the infamous saying ‘Sunday Funday equals no fun Monday’ still stands even if you don’t participate in an alcoholic rendezvous, because let’s face it, it’s still fucking Monday.

Ian left early for the center due to an early conference. School is due to start soon so the center takes a week to plan with local school districts the curriculum and programs they’ll continue to run. Most schools participate in helping fund the program, some more than others. This also means that since the programs aren’t running, I’m off this week.

What to do. What to do.

I turn to Ian’s empty side of the bed and I see the note perched on his pillow. Because every girl loves a letter written to them, I snatch that bad boy up and sit up to read it.

Oh, sigh . . .

Throwing down some high school lingo, he is
sooo
dreamy. I lie back down, my head hitting the pillow, and hug my sweet letter to my chest. The smile that spreads across my face is of pure bliss. Happiness. I laugh to myself even at that. I’ve been happy these past years, but it just wasn’t this genuine. Life didn’t feel as warm and fuzzy as it does now. I feel like I want to get up and dance around my bedroom singing to the Sound of Music or something.

So of course I do.

I know I have some big girl tasks to do, one calling my lawyer, and two figuring out Amy and John’s finances. I was given a key to their safety deposit box and told to contact their attorney once I settled in. I’ve been stacking up the mail since I got here but not doing a thing with it. I figured it’s about time I sort through it before lights start shutting off or the water stops running.

Soon my shower is complete and I’ve dressed myself for the day. Some boxes made it here that Lexi shipped, so I slip into a nice pink jumper with my Tory Burch ballet slippers. I put on minimal makeup and wrap my crazy locks into a messy bun. As much as I want to take a razor to them, Ian said he would take me down if I laid a hand on ’em. He told me that just looking at my hair turns him on. He confessed that my wild mop reminds him of how wild I get in bed and it’s an instant hard on for him. I mean it’s like they say: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

The buzzing of my phone grabs my attention. I adjust my hair mayhem and head toward the nightstand.

“Shit.”

The lawyer.

I stall a few seconds before giving them the end button for the billionth time since Friday. I don’t know why I just didn’t answer, tell them I’ve decided to stay and cancel all my requests. So why
didn’t
I answer that damn call? I mean, haven’t I decided? Ian and I had a great weekend. Everything he said and did proved he forgives me. Why do I keep doubting this? And even if I left, is taking Pippa with me the right decision? Would she
want
to go? Would leaving her in the hands of someone she knows as her family be better? Ian believes we have a future. Have I really thought about the obligations of taking care of a child? I know I said I was staying, but there is this push deep deep down that doesn’t feel solid on this. I try to convince myself it’s just nerves.

I know I’m starting to freak myself out. I try to refocus my negative energy. I want to do something really special for Ian. He’s been nothing but great since I got here and I really want to show him how much I appreciate him, other than in physical terms. I’m pretty sure in physical terms my appreciation is loud and clear. I’m about as good a cook as Pippa and her frozen pancake debacle, but I have faith I can manage something simple.

With my iPad handy, I bring up Pinterest and search the recipe boards for something easy. All the pictures look so pretty until I open the link and scrunch my nose at the extensive list of ingredients.
Half cup of huh?
I can’t even pronounce half this shit!