Текст книги "My Kind of Forever"

Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

The way the mirror on my dressing table is angled gives me the perfect opportunity to watch Liam undress. This is my favorite ritual, morning and night. I’ll take the chance anytime I can to watch him methodically peel off his clothes. He’s a man who unties his shoes first, placing them back on the shoe rack. His socks are next, followed by his shirt. My peeping tom ways are often rewarded when he’s wearing a dress shirt. Not only do I get to watch the muscles in his back flex as he pushes each button through the ridiculously small hole, but his undressing is prolonged. He takes his t-shirt off the same way every time and when he pulls the collar from behind and the shirt slowly lifts inch by inch, my mouth waters. My lips become dry and my knuckles ache from my hand clutching my hairbrush. The clank of his belt buckle and the almost too silent pop of the fabric from his button down jeans have me staring intently into the mirror. My make-up is only half off, my mouth wide open and I’m the picture of someone who needs serious help. And let’s not get started on the way he gets dressed...

He knows I watch him. This is a game to him. He could sleep in or stay up late, but he doesn’t. Liam gets up with me in the morning and goes to bed when I do at night and I’m starting to think it’s because his intention is to have me committed. I may or may not have a drooling issue when it comes to staring at my husband. You’d think that after watching him grow up that I’d be used to his body, but the truth of the matter is, he didn’t fully grow until he left Beaumont. I missed the transformation from teenage boy to man. Sometimes I think I’m happy that I did, but other times, I think about all the other women out there that have experienced his transformation. I hate them all. I’m jealous of them and I don’t know why. I have him now. He chose me.

His jeans drop to the ground and he kicks them aside, depriving me of the chance to watch him bend over to pick them up. I find myself leaning into my vanity to get a better look as his thumbs dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Men find women’s lingerie sexy and appealing. It turns them on. The look and feel teases them and they love it. I never thought about men in their underwear until I saw Liam in his. Over the years he’s maintained his muscles, yet has a more defined physique. His boxers aren’t sagging in places they shouldn’t. My husband could be an underwear model with his form fitting briefs, although I don’t know if I’d want the world to see what he only shares with me. The cotton fabric pools at his feet. He steps out of them and turns around, showing me his naked body... a body only for my eyes, my hands, my lips and any other part of me.

“How long are you going to stare at me?” I swallow hard as my eyes flash to his and a wicked grin plays across my lips.

“Until my eyes no longer work,” I tell him. “Or until you tell me to stop.”

“Hmm that’ll be never,” he says as he walks near me. It’s when he’s inches from my back that I can no longer see him; his presence is felt immensely in the energy we share. I’ve always known when he’s near. It can be both a blessing and a curse. After my last round of pregnancy tests, when I asked him to come home, I knew he was at the door before he even said my name. I didn’t want him to see me like that – a mess and crumbling on the floor because I failed again in giving him another child. I had hoped he’d respect the closed door, but he knew immediately and I can’t fault him for being the caring man that he is. He wanted to fix me, take away my pain, just as I would do for him. However, knowing when he’s about to touch me makes my skin tingle with anticipation. My body zings with electricity the moment before he touches me. He’s like my own personal current that I need in order to keep functioning.

Liam’s touch is light as a feather as he moves the strap of my nightgown down my shoulder. Lips that I’m eager for ghost across my skin. I feel my skin pebble, the goose bumps rising with anticipation as my other strap falls, leaving my nightgown barely covering my breasts.

He looks at me, his eyes meeting mine through the mirror as he watches the tips of his fingers travel along my collarbone. It’s been so long since we’ve been like this. There’s no rushing, or lack of foreplay. I’ve missed my husband and I want to tell him as much, but I’m at a loss for words as he sweeps my hair to the side and presses his lips against my neck. Liam presses into my back as his fingers push my flimsy nightgown down.

“I really like this color on you,” he says as he looks at me.

I glance at myself in the mirror. I can’t see the midnight blue gown that I was wearing only moments ago. “I’m not wearing a color.”

“You are, and it’s flesh-toned. The most beautiful color I’ve ever seen.” Liam quickly turns me on my stool and scoops me into his arms. His mouth captures the schoolgirl squeal I want to let out as his tongue meets mine. My arms wrap around his neck as he carries us the few steps to our bed where he gently sets me down.

“Seems we have a problem, Mrs. Westbury.”

“What’s that Mr. Page?” I say Page purposefully, earning a deep grunt from him. He shakes his head slowly as he takes in every inch of my body.

“Is that what you want?”

Pulling my lower lip in, I nod almost hesitantly. It’s a dangerous game, playing with Liam Page, but sometimes it’s warranted. Sometimes it’s needed. I’ve had the best of both worlds where he’s concerned. At times I’ll have the slow, sensual love making from my husband, while at others I’m rewarded with the rough and powerful fucking from my rocker.

I want the rocker tonight.

Sitting up, I push him away from the bed. His eyes widen as I guide his hand into my hair. My nightgown bunches at my waist as I squat down, level with his erection.

“If you picked me up in a bar, what would you do?”

“Don’t Jojo,” he says, not because he doesn’t want to be with me, but because he fears I’m trying to be someone I’m not. He doesn’t like to be reminded of who he used to be and I can understand that, but sometimes I want to be that bad girl who goes home with the rocker from the club.

Tonight I’m going to be her.

“I want this,” I say as I take him deep into my mouth. I look up at him as my mouth starts to pull away. The grip he has on my hair tightens as I pull him in again. My hands are spread out on his legs. My nails are digging into his thighs. I look at him again, my eyes pleading for him to give me this little fantasy and he does.

Liam takes a tight hold of my head in both hands and moves me back and forth. I hold onto him for stability, fearing that I might fall forward if I’m not careful. Liam moans as his hips thrust into me. I take everything he gives me and watch as his face morphs into ecstasy.

In the blink of an eye, I’m on my back with my panties being torn away. “Yes,” I whisper heavily as Liam buries himself deep within me. My leg is thrown over his shoulder as he pounds rapidly. Our bodies are slick with sweat, our thrusts matching our every breath. He holds my face, his hand spread out over my cheek while his thumb hovers over my mouth. My tongue darts out, licking the pad of his thumb as his eyes roll back. My hands grip the comforter as he moves in and out, increasing our tempo. When he grazes my clit, I scream out, begging for more.

“God, Josie, I’m going to fucking blow.”

I want him to know I’m there with him, ready and waiting. I grab his ass and push him into me. He grunts, slamming harder until he stills, dropping my leg immediately. It aches, but I welcome the pain.

“Holy fuck,” he says as his lips move over my skin until he’s reached my lips. “We haven’t done that in a long time.”

My fingers run up and down his back as he lies on top of me. I don’t want him to move, but we need to clean up. He pulls out, moving just off to the side, leaving our legs intertwined.

“Thank you for letting me have my fantasy.”

He scoffs. “You know I’ll do anything for you, but there are times when I worry. I don’t want you to think I want that lifestyle back.”

“I don’t,” I say as I kiss his forehead.

“Good,” he sighs, “Because there’s something I need to tell you.”

There have been many times in my life when my mouth has gotten the best of me. Case in point: I just made love to my wife and the first ridiculous thing I have to say is that I need to tell her something. This, of course, is after I tell her that I don’t want my rocker lifestyle back, which isn’t exactly true. The booze, women and long nights isn’t something I crave, but the scene is. I miss being surrounded by the music, the artists and the vibe that Los Angeles has to offer. It’s not something I can explain, or even delve into. It’s an itch, a longing.

Resting on my hand, I brush the sweat-laden hair away from Josie’s face. Everyone changes over the years, except my wife. Realistically, I know she has, but in my eyes I still see the girl I fell in love with so many years ago. Her love for me has never wavered, even when I didn’t deserve it. That’s what I keep telling myself as I’m looking into her soulful blue eyes, preparing myself for the anger and hurt, but hoping for acceptance and encouragement.

“Let’s take a bath,” I tell her, losing the nerve I’ve been trying to build up. She doesn’t balk nor does she agree as I jump out of the bed and walk into the bathroom. I turn on the water, letting the loud vibration of the tub filling drown out my thoughts.

Josie’s fingers thread through the back of my hair. I’m in need of a cut, something I’ve been putting off because of our baby-making schedule. She comes to stand in front of me and images of taking her again run rampant through my mind. I kiss her softly and hold her face to mine. When I pull back, I see nothing but confusion and fear. Guiding her into the water, I maneuver my girl so she’s between my legs. My fingers dip into the water and I let them dangle above her as the warm water drips onto her skin.

Taking a deep breath, I ready myself. “When my grandmother introduced me to Harrison, he was the drummer of a house band for a bar called Metro. He took me there, and that’s where I got my start. It’s where my grandfather got his start too.”

I pause and remember the day I met Harrison at my grandmother’s party. He had a beanie on his head even back then. “Trixie, the owner, she was this spitfire of a woman. Agents flocked to her bar to sign the next big act.”

“Is that where you met Sam?”

I stiffen at the sound of Sam’s name coming off Josie’s lips. Sam has caused so much damage and continues to do so even though she’s no longer here. “And JD,” I say, avoiding the thought of Sam as long as I can. “Did I ever tell you that my grandmother was our groupie?”

Josie shakes her head. “You’ve never really discussed her.”

“I should. I wish you could’ve met her.”

She turns slightly in my arms. “Things could’ve been different.” I kiss her again. I know the kind of different she would’ve wanted, and it doesn’t match mine. “Why are you telling me this?”

Wrapping my arms around her, I rest my chin on her shoulder. It’ll be easier to say what I have to without seeing her face. The question is, what comes first? The fact that I want to go to L.A. and help out Metro and possibly revive the career of 4225 West or do I tell her about the book. Both will, no doubt, cause an issue.

“I need to take the band back to L.A.,” I say quickly. Once I start talking I can’t stop. “We’re struggling here and losing the fan base we’ve built. The money, the songs, and the exposure we need – we aren’t getting that recording in the basement and I can’t do that to Harrison and JD. Metro is going under and Harrison and JD want us to go back for the benefit concert. I know it’s bad timing with the baby coming, but…

“There’s something else,” I say as I take a deep breath. “A journalist wrote a tell-all book about me. I don’t know what’s in it, but she somehow got a hold of Sam’s diaries, or whatever, and used those.”

I close my eyes tightly as I wait. Waiting for what, I don’t know. The yelling. The punching. The look. I know there’s some cracked ass saying about how everything happens for a reason, but I don’t believe that shit. Mason didn’t have to die for me to come back. I would’ve… eventually. Metro doesn’t need to be closing for me to go back to Los Angeles... we have to or we need to hang it up. The band, as of right now, is not viable. We’re not making money and even though I’ve invested well that doesn’t mean the money will always be there.

Josie pulls away from me. Her movements are slow and methodical. I know I’ve fucked up, and the timing is the worst possible. She steps out of the tub, leaving me cold and shivering, and steps out of the bathroom not even pausing to tie her robe. I pull the plug on the tub and step out, wrapping myself in a towel until I pull on a pair of lounge pants.

My wife stands on our balcony which overlooks our backyard. I encase her with my arms, clutching the railing in front of us. I refuse to let her keep things bottled up. She becomes me when she does that and we don’t need two of me in this house. Nothing good comes from holding in the anger.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers into the night air.

“Yell at me then.”

She shakes her head. The last fight we had as a couple was the night of graduation. I wanted to quit it all right then and there, give up on everything and just disappear. Nothing, at the time, could compare to not having my parents at graduation. That was the lowest of the lows and yet I remained in their house because I didn’t have any other place to go. Sure, I could’ve gone to Mason’s, but I never wanted to intrude on anyone. I was my own problem to deal with.

“Why now, Liam?” she sniffles in between her words, stabbing me square in my heart.

“I know the timing sucks, Jojo, and I wish I could change it, but I owe it to Trixie to help save her club. I’m where I’m at in life because of the opportunities she gave me.”

Josie turns and faces me. Her eyes are red and her cheeks tear stained. “I don’t owe her anything.”

I frown. “Josie…”

“No, don’t. You got to say your peace and now I get to say mine. For ten years you were gone and you haven’t been all that forthcoming about your life, which I get; you don’t want to upset me, but I am upset because you’re leaving and I can’t stop you. You may be Liam Westbury in here.” She points to my head. “But in your heart, you’re Liam Page. I’ve accepted that, but right now I don’t want to because we’re about to have a baby and…” she trails off, not needing to finish her thought because my mind is already finishing it for her.

“Jojo, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to work. You and Noah can come with me, or fly out on the weekends. I’m not hiding from you and our children.”

“But you won’t be here when the baby’s born?”

I shake my head. It’s going to take months to rebuild what we’ve lost, if not years. “As soon as he’s here, I’m on the first plane out. Then we’ll fly back to L.A. as a family. You’ll love it out there and with school almost out for Noah, you guys can spend your days at the beach. Linda can watch the baby and I’ll work.” I drop my voice and lean in, letting my breath tickle her neck. “At night, you can be the vixen up front, the one I take backstage.”

She pushes me away. “Is that what you need? A vixen willing to screw you in the green room?”

“What?” I almost choke on my words. “You’re crazy if that’s what you think. I only want you. Yeah, it excites me knowing that you’re in the audience listening to me sing about you and about us and that I get to go home with you.”

I walk away from her and out of our room, taking the stairs as fast as I can, barreling through the house until I reach the basement steps leading to my studio. The fact that she even brought that shit up pisses me off. I gave up that lifestyle when I found out about Noah and did what I had to do to get her away from Nick. She’s my life. Liam Page is my job.

H e hustles through the crowded hallway moving no differently than when he’s on the field, dodging the residents who are coming at him. I try desperately to call his name to no avail. My voice is gone, broken. The words I need to say to him are either caught in my throat, or nowhere to be found. Bearing down, I scream his name until people are looking at me. My new friends, classmates and neighbors stare as make-up runs down my blotchy, tear stained face. Liam ignores me and continues his pursuit away from me. Why? Why is he doing this?

Mason can catch him. That’s what I tell myself as I dial his number. Again, I can only speak in wails and broken sentences. “Liam” and “gone” are the only recognizable words I know. The dial tone in my ear tells me to hang up, but I hold the phone to my ear, crying, begging for Liam to come back.

The pounding on my door causes me to drop the phone. I run as fast as I can across my small room, only to find Mason standing there instead of Liam.

“What’s going on?”

“He… he’s… gone.” I can hardly utter the words and fall to the floor. Mason is there to catch me before I hurt myself. The pain I’m feeling in my chest – it’s unbearable. I sob in Mason’s arms, barely able to catch my breath. He rubs my back, urging me to calm down, but I can’t. The love of my life has cut me open with a jagged knife and ripped my heart out before slamming it back into the open wound.

“Are you hurt, Josie?”

Am I hurt? I’m not sure how to quantify the pain I’m feeling as hurt. Hurt to me is a paper cut, or a sliver. The suffering I’m experiencing goes far beyond that. What I’m feeling now is irreparable. I’m inevitably broken.

Mason carries me to my bed, setting me down softly. He picks up the phone, but my sobs are too loud for me to hear who he is calling. I can’t stop crying, but I need to because I can’t breathe. The pressure on my chest is suffocating. My body feels like I’ve been battered, tackled by a three hundred pound lineman.

Gentle arms wrap around me, cocooning me into a bubble of warmth and love. Quiet words of reassurance are spoken, meant to guide me down a path of healing, but I’ll never heal from this. Deep in my heart, I know he’s not coming back. Katelyn barks orders at Mason, who leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I close my eyes and when I do I see Liam, standing at my doorway, refusing to come in. I should’ve known something was wrong. He shied away from my touch. The only other time he did that was after our fight the night of graduation. Let me have a do over. Let me ask Liam what’s wrong before he runs out on me.

“Can you talk?” Katelyn asks

My whole body shakes, refusing to acknowledge what just happened.

“Did you lose the baby?”

The baby. Our baby. My forearm shields my abdomen as if to protect the tiny bean growing inside of me.

“No,” I mutter through tears. “Liam.”

“What?” Katelyn sits up abruptly, almost knocking me into the wall. “What’s wrong with Liam?”

“Liam?” Mason says his name as he comes back into our room with a bottle of water and two white pills. He hands them to me slowly.

“What happened, Josie?” He’s in front of me, on his knees and pleading for answers. He thinks something awful has happened to his best friend.

Just thinking about saying his name again brings tears to my eyes. I can’t control the sob that moves through my body. I try, but to no avail and I’m quickly hyperventilating.

“What the fuck happened to Liam?”

“He…” I hiccup, trying to catch my breath, “left me.” I finish with a shudder.

The room grows silent. They also know that Liam is gone and not coming back. If there was a chance I thought he was, I wouldn’t be like this. The finality of his words, the way he said my name, has given me no hope.

“Did you tell him?” Katelyn asks, only for Mason to speak up.

“Tell him what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Mason grits his teeth and his hands turn into fists. He looks from me to Katelyn before storming out of our room again, slamming the door behind him. It’s only a matter of seconds before the roar of his truck echoes back to our room. Katelyn sits down next to me, her fingers combing through my hair.

“Mason will find him and when he does, he’ll bring him to his senses.”

I don’t want to tell her she wrong because deep down I’m holding out hope. Hope that Liam is outside, realizing the mistake he’s made and wanting to fix it. Hope that I’m not going to raise this baby alone.

That memory hurts to think about, but it’s fresh in my mind almost daily and it shouldn’t be. I forgave Liam a long time ago, and to hold on to the one memory that ruined us isn’t fair to him. He would’ve stayed if I was able to blurt the words out, but I couldn’t. I thought I was enough. I thought the love that we shared was enough to keep him grounded.

I wipe away a stray tear. I don’t know if it’s from that moment, or for thinking about Mason. It could be either. He was my rock from that day onward, never questioning or asking if I’d heard from Liam. He knew I would’ve told him if I had. I also know it was him who found out the number of Liam’s agency.

The hall is dark and quiet which tells me Noah is still sleeping. I’m thankful that our outburst didn’t wake him or if it did, he’s not letting me know. Liam and I don’t fight and maybe that’s the problem because right now I feel like I’m losing him. It’s something I shouldn’t have to experience again, however part of me is always wondering if he’s just a figment of my imagination or a dream. Am I going to wake up and realize this life I’ve been living these past few years is nothing but a dream; a medically induced coma from an accident? Is Mason alive and well, coaching at the high school where he and Liam set records?

I don’t want this life to be part of some accident or only in my imagination. The day he walked back into my life, I didn’t think we’d end up together. I told myself that he was a drifter, unable to commit to anything. Protecting Noah was my priority, but the second he figured out Liam was his dad, I knew I had a battle on my hands. As much as I wanted Liam to go away and never come back, I didn’t want him to leave. Not only for Noah’s sake, but also for mine.

I love Liam and the paths we’re forging together. Sometimes I wonder if I show him enough that I do. Telling him I love him is one thing. Showing him is something entirely different. I can’t help wondering if I’m failing as a wife in that regard. Am I failing him as a partner?

There’s a soft melody coming from his studio. I pause at the top of the stairs and listen, resting my head on the wall. The sound is familiar and one I haven’t heard in a while. It makes me wonder if he’s preparing his set lists for this event in LA or if he’s just practicing. He’s going to Los Angeles whether I like it or not – that’s something I have no choice but to accept.

The fear is there: The women. The drinking. The drugs. He’s said drugs were never his thing, but booze definitely was. Habits are hard to break, and they’re even easier to fall back into. I trust him, but not the women. The ring on his finger won’t mean anything to them. He’s Liam Page. I’ve witnessed that craziness first hand.

My steps are slow as I reach the door. He’s stopped playing and I use that as my sign to enter his sanctuary. I don’t come down here often, choosing to let him have the space he needs and was accustomed to before he came back to Beaumont. We both have our own places to escape to with the flower shop being mine.

The studio is small, but useful. The guys spend a lot of time down here creating magic. Harrison’s drums sit in the corner, while guitars and keyboards take up the rest of the space. Microphone stands clutter the center of the room. The once cream-colored walls are full of life with music sheets covering every square inch possible.

Liam’s back is to the door and if he’s heard me enter, he doesn’t acknowledge my presence. I know he’s angry. I am too. History does not favor us in this situation. We can either change it, or let something like this drive a wedge between us. Ideally, I’d go with him, however it’s not possible. Noah’s still in school and, with the baby coming, I can’t just up and leave on a whim. My life isn’t as flexible as his. And maybe his shouldn’t be easily adjusted whenever he feels the need, but I married him knowing his career is very important.

My fingers trail over one of his newest tattoos. Noah’s name is inked into his skin between his shoulder blades. It’s bold and beautiful. He relaxes under my touch, hanging his head as I trace each letter, following the design.

“I imagine our new son’s name will go here,” I say, letting my finger glide over his back, right below Noah’s name.

Liam clears his throat. “We need to pick out a name.”

“We have time.”

“Do we?” he asks as he turns on the stool to face me. His hands immediately find a home on my hips as if they’re keeping me grounded.

An overwhelming sense of loss washes over me as I study his other tattoo. A football adorns his shoulder with Mason’s number and stats. I asked him after he got it why his birthdate and the day he left us wasn’t on there and he said because he just needed to remember the way he lived.

“That night…” I start, but hesitate so I can think about my words carefully. We’ve never spoken about the night he broke up with me. The night that ruined my life, albeit temporarily. “Mason…” I can’t bring myself to say it without choking up. It’s too hard to speak about him because he’s missing so much.

Liam pulls me to him, resting his forehead against my chest. I hold him there, moving my fingers in and out of his hair. When he kisses my stomach I want to cry for the child we both desperately want, but are unable to conceive.

“I want to give you a child, Jojo. I’m so sorry I can’t.”

“You already gave me one,” I remind him.

“I wasn’t there, but Mason was.”

When Liam looks up at me, tears overcome me and are matched by his own. Using the pad of his thumbs, he wipes them away as fast as he can, leaving his own to fall onto his bare chest.

“I saw him go to your room. I waited in the parking lot, but you never came out. I told myself if you did, I’d stay or take you with me, but he showed up instead. Why didn’t you come after me?”

“I knew it was over.” The finality of my words, even years later, weighs heavily on my chest. I gasp for air and Liam’s face shows concern as he holds my arms above my head until I can breathe.

“How’d you know when I didn’t even know that myself?”

“You called me Josephine.”