You Are Here (34 page)

I sat down across from Lucie just in time for her to hang up the phone. “Who was that?”

“Papa,” she said simply. “I called earlier to wish him a happy Father’s Day, but his phone had been off.”

“Too bad he’s in London right now. It would have been nice if he could have joined us at the barbecue.”

“He’ll be back in Montreal next month, and he wants us to come stay for a couple weeks,” she said, making faces at Edie before grabbing her off my lap.

Jealous
.

“Sounds great,” I said, leaning forward to stand. “I’m going to hop in the shower. We don’t have to be to Andrea and Charlies’ ’til three, right?”

She cocked her head at me. “Why do you have to perpetuate that stupid joke? Even if Nash insists Charlotte loves it, she doesn’t. And you know it pisses Drew off.”

“Okay, Mom.” I winked, and a strange look passed over her face. My stomach flipped. I watched her expression cloud and clear. “What?”

“Huh? Nothing.” She shrugged, smoothing Edie’s one, crazy curly lock down, only for it to pop right back up. “Yeah, three. Go on. I got her.”

I was sure she’d had a preview, but quite honestly, I didn’t want to get into it since we had to get going. I brushed the odd feeling off as I made my way back through the house to the master bathroom to turn on the shower. Perhaps I didn’t pay attention to how far I twisted the knob, because when I stepped in, the water could cook a lobster on contact. I jumped back out of the steaming hot spray and hit the tile.

“Fucking hot!” I yelled, grabbing at the nozzles until it cooled down.

I was working shampoo into my hair when I heard the door open behind me. I didn’t turn, but smiled when I felt Lucie’s hands slide around my waist.

“You are fucking hot, it’s true,” she said. “You’re my man candy.”

“Funny,” I replied.

I dropped my hands back and slid my soapy fingers down her sides. She hummed and pressed her bare chest to my back, her hands running over my stomach. I was all too interested in where this was going, but I had to tease her.

“You leave our baby girl to fend for herself out there?”

“Grey.” She stepped quickly around to stand under the spray in front of me, hands on her naked hips. I snorted, she glared. “Edie is mesmerized by the mobile above the baby swing in our bedroom, and the baby monitor is on the shelf right next to us. We’ve got T-minus seven minutes, and you are wasting time.”

The last few words were barely past her lips before I had her pinned against the opposite tiles, kissing the living hell out of her. It should have been blatantly obvious, but we hadn’t realized how little adult time having a baby would leave us. And while we had Vivi taking Edie tomorrow night, we were both tightly wound and needed some release now. Tomorrow, we’d take our time.

“Six minutes,” she said pointedly as I nibbled her earlobe.

“Believe me, sugar,” I said, “I will make the most of every.” Lick. “Single.” Bite. “Second.”

I kissed behind her ear, made my way down with quick pit stops at her breasts and bellybutton with my mouth and tongue. I knelt on the tile floor and hitched her leg over my shoulder. I earned a gasp and a significant moan of expectation. Trailing my lips inward, I pressed my tongue against her just as she began to protest.

“Grey, we don’t have time for—OH JESUS, FUCK, YES!” Her hips thrust involuntarily against my face, but I held them steady as I continued to play. “God dammit, you are, guhh … so good. Sweet Christ, gold medal!”

I choked on a laugh. Giving my wife pleasure reminded me, even though it was in such a primitive way, that I was needed and loved by someone.

My thumbs smoothed over the outside of her thighs while I nipped lightly at the sensitive skin for a little extra reaction. She panted heavily, and given how charged she was, I knew she wouldn’t take long. Since we had a serious time limit and I wanted to get inside her before I burst, I hummed some happy vibrations to push her over the edge. Slim fingers wove their way through my still-soapy hair and locked as her release echoed around us in a string of muttered obscenities.

“Holy hell, baby.” She drunkenly smiled down at me. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

I released her leg and stood. “Yes, but I never tire of hearing it,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“So, we’ve got, what? An hour?” she joked, her words spaced between gasps. She pressed her lips to my chest. “I want more.”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” I said, my voice gravelly.

Picking her up, I pushed her back against the wall. As if choreographed, she wrapped her legs around my hips, locked her ankles behind me, and glued her lips to mine. The kiss was hard and soft, fast and slow. She slid herself up and down, whimpering as she pressed herself against the head of my erection. I slid inside, both of us groaning at the gloriously familiar connection. After a brief pause sharing breath, I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and slipped the other beneath her ass.

“Omigod, I fucking love you,” she gasped as I began to thrust.

“I fucking”—I sucked in a quick breath—“love you.”

Her hands struggled against my hold as she laughed and swore in delight, pleading for harder, faster, more—as if I wouldn’t give her anything she asked. I silenced her pleas with my mouth, sucking on her lips and tongue as we both neared the ultimate high. All my muscles tensed, and her legs tightened around me like a snake. Her wrists slipped from my fingers and her arms dropped, slapping wet skin as they landed on my shoulders.

“Please,” she begged, breaking the kiss and tipping her head to the side and leaning against the tile.

I knew what she was asking for, but I was hesitant to leave a mark. I didn’t want to bring her this close to a second orgasm and fall short, so I relented before I lost it myself. Ghosting my lips along her slippery neck, I nipped her pulse point before sinking my teeth firmly into the flesh of her shoulder.

Shuddering and moaning, she came again, gripping me and tugging me across the finish line.

As if on cue, a considerably more innocent wail crackled through the speaker on the shelf just outside the glass door. We laughed through labored breaths.

“Excellent fucking timing,” she declared giddily, though thoroughly winded.

“Pun intended?” I joked, kissing her hard before carefully setting her down on her wobbly legs. “Good job cleaning up your language, by the way.”

“Fuck you.” She giggled, wrapping herself in the fluffy green cotton.

“Anytime,” I replied, grinning.

“Language can be dirty when we are,” she continued with a wink, and I was forced to kiss her again. It was a kiss that could’ve led to another round had Edie not let loose the “clearly-I’m-dying” scream.

We dressed quickly, taking turns entertaining Edie and getting her changed, and packed. Though we didn’t rush, it seemed that a second ago I’d had Lucie against a wall in ecstasy when now we were minutes from my brother’s driveway. I certainly wasn’t complaining because there was nothing but joy surrounding me.

Unloading the car seat and bags had quickly become my least favorite thing about being a parent, and Lucie was a nutcase about stuff like that Pack ’n Play contraption, toys, mats. The majority of our arguments stemmed from me trying to stop her from bringing the entirety of Edie’s room with us wherever we went.

I unlatched Edie from her seat and grabbed the diaper bag. Lucie snatched the bag with the ice cream and an extra bag with toys and a load of other baby crap I wouldn’t even venture to guess about the necessity. I approached the side gate, assuming at the very least Drew would be outside. Since they’d moved to this new house, he was constantly on the patio.

“Hey man, I tried to call to see if we needed to bring anything besides the ice cream, but it kept going straight to voice—” I stopped cold.

I had expected to find a typical weekend barbecue scene: Drew would man the grill like a beast, shooing away anyone—Nash—who tried to get at the sizzling meat early. Charlotte would be running back and forth between the kitchen and the huge picnic table under the elm tree where my nephew and godson Gibson would be trying to run the dog into exhaustion.

What I did find, however, was something entirely different. Sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs not ten feet in front of me was none other than my mother.

The fifteen years between us had lined her face with worries and who knows what else since I walked away from her house that day. Her salt and pepper hair was new to me and pulled loosely into a bun. What stunned me, though, was the hope in her clear blue eyes. She wrung her hands while her forehead wrinkled with apprehension.

“Greyson,” she said quietly. One simple word was pointed with more feelings than I cared to think about, and it pissed me off. I scanned the yard, looking for any explanation. Maybe evidence of being punked.

My mother glanced down at the baby in my arms and smiled. Edie cuddled against my neck, shy and groggy after her nap during the ride over.

She swallowed hard and tried again. “Happy Father’s Day.”

My body frozen in place, stiff with outrage. Lucie’s hand warmed my lower back, her attention no doubt volleying between my face and my mother’s. When she leaned her cheek against my arm, I knew she was there to support me and was justifiably concerned.

Lucie whispered, “It’ll be okay, baby.”

Stepping away a foot or two, I turned my gaze on her. She’d seen it. Her responding expression was one of guilt. I shut my eyes and shook my head, overwhelmed by a misleading feeling of betrayal. I struggled to maintain some calm—failing miserably. I knew it was unfair to be angry with her. If she’d told me, I’d likely have refused to show up.

I looked back at her trying to convey wordlessly that we were fine. She moved closer to me and I kissed her. The weight of blame slid off as she laughed her relief.

“I love you,” she mouthed.

I returned it.

“This is … Edie?” my mother asked. Her voice wavered with nerves. She stepped forward tentatively, her eyes and hands seeking out her granddaughter.

My hackles were immediately back up as I glared.

“Honey, I know this is a surprise,” she began, moving forward.

“I’d say that’s a serious goddamn understatement. What are you doing here?” I hissed from between thick layers of contempt.

“I invited her.” Drew’s voice permeated the haze of fury and nausea.

I stopped myself from a long-winded attack of the explicitly profane variety by attempting to take a deep breath. Edie started fidgeting. I rocked side to side, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“Why?” I knew it was a ridiculous question when I asked it. Of course Drew still had a relationship with our parents. I’d never expected him to shun them on my behalf—that would be asinine. Still, I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry. It wasn’t as if Drew’s father were here. I’d talked about my God damn feelings with my therapist a thousand times.

Just after I was released from the hospital five years ago, Vivi all but insisted I see a counselor for PTSD among other things. Lucie continued her own as well, sometimes even having joint sessions, and together we managed to survive the process. It had been difficult, stressful, and even with Lucie’s encouragement, often overwhelming. And it would seem, a process not yet complete, because I felt nearly as pissed off now as the first time I discussed my family with Dr. Hamilton. I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might actually crack.

“Because it’s exhausting! I shouldn’t have to lie to my mom,” he snapped. “So, yes, I told her about Edie. I told her about you and Lucie. She brings you up all the time, and every single time she does, she’s all guilty and depressed. It was killing me.”

“Drew, please,” my mother interrupted him, snagging my attention. She turned to me and moved another step closer. “I’ve thought about you every day, Greyson. Every day. And every day, my heart breaks again—”

“This is bullshit,” I growled. Edie’s fussing became more insistent. “I don’t need this.”

“The hell you don’t!” Drew yelled. Charlotte grabbed Gibson away from the screen door and steered him away. “Did I say it was bullshit when you came clean to me? Did Nash?”

“That is hardly the same thing,” I retorted, feeling my face get hot and my head begin to pound. “How can you—”

Lucie interrupted by stripping the bag from my shoulder and pulling Edie from my arms. She tried to soothe her now full-on fit while she walked into the house with all the bags. I was left alone with Drew and my mother.

“You deserved a chance to speak your peace,” Drew said as he stepped up to me, nearly bumping my chest. “As your
mother
, I think it’s only fair she gets a chance to speak hers.”

As we indignantly began a juvenile staring contest, my mother approached him, put her hands on his shoulders and pressed him back a pace or two. “Thank you for inviting me here, but this part is my responsibility. Please, honey.”

Drew maintained the stare-down until she lightly slapped his face to regain his focus. He rolled his eyes. “Fine, Mom.” He turned to go inside with everyone else, but not before throwing one last dirty look at me.

I crossed my arms, feeling defiant and ambushed. Within a split second, I was transported back to high school graduation. To my life unraveled. To my identity unwritten. To the resentment and ultimately, listlessness that fueled the decade that followed.

Now was not then, but I didn’t want to look back. I had the future I thought I’d lost in Lucie and now Edie. I had my
own
family, and I had my friends.

“Would you like to sit down? Please sit down,” my mother entreated. She turned toward the picnic table and looked back at me.

I couldn’t force myself to move, though. All I could do was avoid her eyes. I had written her off along with the
un
-dad, never believing I would actually have to confront either of them, so all I had was defensiveness.

“That’s okay,” she said, nodding. “Stay right there. I’ll just talk.”

Stepping closer to me, she raised her hand carefully and slowly. When she placed her hand on my arm, I flinched and threw her off like water off a griddle.