Claim 3: Volume Three Page 4

  “You have the right to ask me any damn thing you want. It’s supposed to be my job to give you what you need. If this is it, then dammit, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “I love you, Jordan,” she says, snuggling closer to me. Kicking my feet up on the coffee table, I all but pull her into my lap and let her just be for a moment.

  “I love you, baby. We’ll figure this out.” I’m not sure if I even believe myself, but I have to be a source of comfort for her.

  For about twenty minutes we sit just like this—her laying across my chest, my lips resting on the top of her head, our legs tangled together across the coffee table. From the other room, her phone starts ringing, but she doesn’t make a move to grab it.

  “Lo,” I whisper. No response. The damn woman fell asleep on me. I fight every urge to not wake her as this is exactly how we should be on any given evening—her asleep on me. Only difference in my head is we’d be naked and sated.

  Her phone stops ringing and starts up almost immediately. “Loren. Baby. Wake up. Your phone’s ringing off the hook. It could be an emergency.” Her eyes flutter open and she appears confused. The phone stops again while she gathers her bearings, but goes off again.

  “Oh shit. I was waiting on Patrick to call me with news about the software campaign. He wanted to deal with Joel on the final approvals before we got going.” Jumping off the couch, Loren rushes to her bedroom and comes back with the phone glued to her ear, mouthing ‘Patrick’ as she sits back down next to me.

  “Mr. Fletcher. Joel. So wonderful to hear from you both. I’d love to hear what you’ve decided. Actually, no need to call Jordan, he’s here with me now. One second.”

  She presses the mute button at the same time she places the call on speaker phone. “They’re on a conference call and want you with us. If Joel agrees, we’re going to handle the campaign from here on out. This is a big one, Jordan. Really big. You ready?” Loren asks.

  “Let’s do it. We’re the best team in the history of advertising and marketing. We got this,” I say, smiling as she unmutes the call.

  “Jordan’s with us,” she announces, placing the phone on the table in front of us.

  I’m only half listening while she takes notes. I know I agreed to be patient with her while she makes a choice between Nolan and me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give her every reason to choose me. While she jots something in her notebook, I lean into her, brush away the hair on her neck, and place a few small, nearly innocent kisses on her sensitive flesh. One thing I have on this Nolan guy: I know everything that makes her tick. I know her spots. I know exactly what she likes and how she wants it.

  Loren pushes me away and gives me an evil look before she goes back to the conference call. “I totally agree, Mr. Fletcher. Joel’s company is about to take the world by storm. We can most certainly make that happen.”

  I try to go back in, but her hand comes between us, pushing me back to my seat. Softly laughing, I maneuver myself behind her on the couch, Loren nestled between my legs while I have full access to her back. Massaging her shoulders, I casually work my way down her arms and around her stomach. Pushing up the hem of her shirt, my fingers trace circles on her belly. Loren tries to slap my hand away, but I pull her close to me, letting her feel how much I want her, and whisper in her ear.

  “You might not wanna be too loud. Don’t want the boss getting any ideas.”

  “Dammit, Jordan,” she huskily whispers right back. “What happened to being patient?”

  “I’m being damn patient, baby. I never said I wouldn’t give you every reason to want to be with me. I said I wouldn’t rush you to a decision. Big difference.”

  “Oh my God,” she sighs, frustrated and annoyed.

  “Finish that call and I’ll make sure you say that a lot more tonight.”

  “How are you feeling about all of this, Jordan?” Patrick’s voice booms from the speaker on the phone, temporarily drawing my attention away from Loren.

  “I fully trust Loren’s judgment. I’m happy to take back seat to this project and let her lead.”

  “Perfect. I’ll finalize the rest of the plans with Joel and we’ll get a game plan for you two this coming week. Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” Patrick says, ready to end the call.

  My lips find their way back to Loren’s neck while she jots down the rest of the notes for the project. As my tongue lazily traces the pattern of the tattoo she keeps hidden, her quiet moans don’t escape my ears, and my dick is so hard it hurts. She reaches forward, saying her goodbyes to the gentlemen on the other line when Joel’s statement stabs me right in the gut.

  “And, Loren, before I get off here, I wanted to thank you for introducing me to your friend’s band. Nolan is a perfect fit and I can’t wait to get started.” Her body stiffens and I feel like I could throw up. Not only is she seeing this guy, but she’s bringing him on the campaign I just took a second seat to so she could have it all to herself. What a fucking dumbass I am. I can’t believe I was so stupid.

  Unwedging myself from behind Loren, I stand and grab my keys off the coffee table.

  “It was great speaking to you guys. I’ll make sure to keep you up to date on everything I’m working on. Have a great weekend,” Loren says in a rush and hits the end button seconds before she’s leaping off the couch and hurrying to the door.

  “Jordan. I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you, but I forgot. It was purely professional,” she apologizes, trying to mend my bruised ego.

  “So you went to see his band with our client. And nothing happened? Not a damn thing?” I ask, so angry all I want to do is punch the frame of the door I’m leaning against.

  “He wanted to see me after, but had to leave right after his set.”

  “Answer my question, Loren. Don’t tiptoe around it.”

  “I kissed him, that’s all, I swear. I’ve not even slept with him yet.”

  “Yet,” I seethe, turning around to walk out the door.

  “It was just a fucking kiss, Jordan.”

  “I know you, dammit. It wasn’t just a kiss. You don’t just go around kissing people. You might think you’re some new aged woman, but you’re not. You’re as conventional as it gets.”

  “I’m sorry.” She lowers her gaze and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole, making her feel bad for kissing someone else. Again, had I not left her, this wouldn’t even be an argument.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who should be apologizing. I have no right to pass any judgment on you or your life. If you want to kiss the man, kiss him. I just fucking hate that he’s the last person to have his lips on yours, especially when I still consider them mine. They’re my fucking lips on my fucking wife.” I stop, trying to regain my composure before I say something I don’t mean.

  No. Fuck that. What I’m saying is true. She’s mine. Mine.

  Lowering my head to hers, I capture her lips, swallowing the words she was about to speak, probably another apology. The moment our tongues meet, she steals the breath right from my body. Unable to make this anything other than savage, I push her against the wall, my hand tangling in her hair, pulling gently at the nape of her neck. Putting every ounce of anger, frustration and love I have for this woman behind this kiss, it’s punishing, passionate and raw. When her fingers glide through my hair, I groan, knowing she’s right here in this moment with me. I’m not alone. She’s as affected as I am.

  Pulling away in order to keep from picking her petite ass up and carrying her to the bedroom and acting out every fantasy I’ve had of her for a year, I glance down at her swollen, pink lips and lick my own. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Running my finger across her bottom lip, she surprises me when she kisses the pad of my thumb.

  “Never apologize for that. Ever,” she says breathlessly. “Go home. I love you. We’ll talk again when I figure this shit out.”

  “I love you, too, baby. I’m ready when you are.”

  I walk down the
steps and to my car, readjusting with every uncomfortable step I take. There are going to be a lot of cold showers in my near future. That or I’ll be jerking off until that woman calls and tells me she wants me … she chooses me. If she chooses me.

  I can’t think of the alternative right now. I’m so fucking in love with her it kills me to leave, but for her, I’ll suffer through anything to give her the peace of mind she needs.

  Chapter Six

  Nolan

  I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed when I walked off stage and saw a waiting text from Wendy. I had wanted to spend some time with Loren, especially after I saw the way that executive was looking at her—like he was a death row inmate and she was his final meal. I wanted her more than I wanted to get on that stage, but I knew the guys needed this. We’d been screwing around for long; we never really got a real shot. That software campaign would be a step in the right direction. I still had no intention of going mainstream with my music, but the guys, especially Mikey, needed something more than what they had.

  Wendy’s text said she was lonely and was just checking up on me, wanted to see if I could talk. My heart clenched. She was dying and I was trying to do more with my life. It didn’t seem fair. And I owed her my time for whatever she had left. Loren wasn’t going anywhere, Wendy would be soon. So after the show ended, I didn’t wait around to leave with Loren, but briefly went to her table, informed her I was headed back to Cloverton instead and walked out.

  The drive back to Wendy’s is pretty somber. I don’t bother turning on the radio or playing my iPod. The time inside my own head would do me good. And going back to Loren’s tonight would have been bad. I’m pretty sure if you look it up, taking care of your dying wife, ex or not, doesn’t have anything to do with sleeping with a gorgeous woman you’ve been on a few dates with. If anything ,that would make me a pretty big douchebag.

  Pulling up in front of Wendy’s, I kill the engine, grab my bag and head inside. Walking through the front door, all the lights are out on the main level, leading me to believe everyone’s asleep. No wonder Wendy’s lonely. All she has are the people in this house and if they’re all in bed, she’s by herself. Guilt hits me and it hits me hard. I should have let the guys handle the gig and stayed behind with Wendy.

  “Hey,” I softly announce myself as I step into her bedroom. Her eyes blink open and a faint smile appears across her chapped lips.

  “Hey, you. You could have just called me or something. I wasn’t expecting you to drive all the way back tonight.”

  “I know, but I wanna be here.” At my statement, her smile widens. Wendy tries to sit up, but has a difficult time with all the tubes and her weakened state. Rushing to her side, I place my hand behind her and raise the bed higher.

  “Good?” I ask, slowly removing my hand.

  “Perfect,” she whispers. “Tell me. How’d it go? Did you get it? I know you said it was pretty important.”

  “Not sure yet. Should know in a few days.”

  “I bet you’ll get it. You’ve always been an excellent performer. Do you remember our prom? You were so adorable, up there singing away. I think that’s when I really fell in love with you,” she wistfully reminisces, reminding me of that very night. It was perfect. It was our first time.

  “Yeah, I do. It was an excellent night.”

  “I loved you a lot. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, angel, I know. I loved you just as much, maybe more.” Her eyes, for the first time since seeing her again, look happy. Pride surges through my veins knowing I’m the one who gave that back to her, my head and heart knowing I’ll do whatever I can to keep that look on her face until the bitter end.

  Glancing to the nightstand next to the bed, a photo album—our wedding pictures—sits open to the image of Wendy smashing a piece of cake in my face. Picking up the book, I flip to the beginning and start going through them.

  “Come up here, I wanna look, too,” Wendy says, trying to scoot over.

  “Here, let me help.” Setting the book aside, I stand and gently scoop her into my arms. Still carrying her, I climb into the bed, careful of everything going on around her, and lay her on the edge, allowing her legs to drape over mine. Picking up the book, I go back to the first page.

  Wendy lays her head on my shoulder as I casually flip the pages. I can feel her smile radiating through her entire body, her happiness seeping into me. This is exactly what I want for her. To be happy while she can. Not think about what’s going to happen, but focus on the present.

  “Oh my gosh, look at my mother,” Wendy whines, embarrassed at an image of her mom on the dance floor, doing some sort of chicken dance. I silently laugh, my chest and shoulders shaking.

  “She was just dancin’ like nobody’s watching. Can’t blame her for that.”

  “Oh, but I can. I’m laying blame. What was she thinking?” Wendy giggles. Fucking giggles. With one arm wrapped around her, I squeeze gently and kiss the top of her head. This moment couldn’t get any more perfect.

  The next few pages we get through without commentary, but when we happen across an image neither one of us knew was being taken, my breathing pauses for a moment, and Wendy’s does, too. To anyone else looking at this picture, it would just look like we were dancing, but Wendy and I both know what was going on. I had her in my arms, my hands cradled at the small of her back with hers possessively around my neck, her fingers twirling my hair. Wendy’s looking up at me, the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen across her lips and my mouth’s partially open. But I know why. I was singing to her. Our song. This was our first dance.

  God, we were in love. It was real. Not that puppy love that most teenagers have, but real, unconditional love. She was my world and I was hers.

  “You made me so happy, Nolan. I want you to know that. Not one second I spent with you was ever wasted. You were my happily ever after. My fairy tale,” she says, bringing her hand to her face, wiping her eyes.

  “Angel, don’t you dare cry,” I softly say, closing the book and setting it back where I found it. Adjusting myself, I bring her with me, still careful of all the equipment in the room. “Not for one second did I not love you, Wendy. When we separated, it was only because I felt like I couldn’t love you like a husband should love his wife. I wanted you to have more.”

  “With you, I always had more. I never doubted for one second we were meant to be. When you told me how you felt, I wanted to make you happy, keep you happy. If that wasn’t being with me, I’d take you anyway I could have you. Husband or friend, as long as I had you, nothing else mattered.”

  I stare down at her, eyes full of regret. Did I jump the gun filing for divorce? Were my intentions pure? I try to think back to the day I woke up and realized I needed out, but I can’t remember. I can’t place what one moment made me think I wasn’t in love with this woman. Looking into her soul, the one that’s held the other half of mine since I met her, I can’t for the life of me think of why I would ever leave her. There’s never been another woman in this world who makes me want any of the things Wendy makes me want. I want everything with her. Every fucking thing.

  Her.

  “I loved you, Nolan,” Wendy whispers, casting her eyes downward, unwilling to meet my gaze.

  Raising her head, I kiss her eyelid, like I had done so many times before. Then, moving down, I kiss the tip of her nose, and she licks her chapped lips, knowing what’s coming next. Hovering my mouth just above hers, they gently touch in the sweetest kiss I can ever remember. Pulling away from Wendy, I force her to meet my stare. “I love you, Wendy. Always have. Always will.”

  “Yeah. I love you, too.”

  Resting her head on my chest, I hold her until she falls asleep. Once her breathing evens out, I lie there a bit longer thinking of how differently tonight could have gone. If there would have been no text from Wendy, I would have stayed with Loren and probably went to bed with her. Sending a silent prayer to Heaven, I thank God for surprise text messages and for opening my eyes th
at have been closed since I was so damn stupid I walked out on my marriage.

  Now comes the hard part: telling Loren. I wanted to badly to see where things would go for us. She’s amazing, beautiful and hell, the woman’s sexy as sin, but she’s not my Wendy. Wendy deserves my undivided attention.

  And to be honest, I have a feeling Loren’s not over her husband and needs to figure that out. Another lifetime, a few more puzzle pieces put together in a different order, and we would be perfect for one another. Right now … that’s not even a possibility. We’re both needed elsewhere.

  Her husband needs her and Wendy needs me. And I’d be a lying fool if I said I didn’t need Wendy just as much. The woman completes me. She’s my happily ever after, as she so eloquently puts it.

  Saying another prayer before I slip out of bed and head back to my room, I beg God to give her more time. Now that I have my head out of my ass, I want to give her everything I took from her when I walked away. Wendy deserves the world—I know it and God knows it. It’s time for Him to get his act together while I work on things down here.

  Once in my room, I send Loren a quick text, telling her I’m going to come see her tomorrow. I don’t want to give too much away, or have her worrying, so I keep it short and simple. She responds almost immediately, letting me know she’ll be home.

  I’m going to get it right this time.

  Chapter Seven

  Loren

  With Nolan on his way, I quickly straighten up the house and apply a little makeup to my bare face. Pacing the living room, I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do. It’s obvious I can’t deny my feelings for Jordan and I have to be fair to Nolan at the same time. But how does one approach a topic like this? I really like you, but I’m in love with my husband, too? Can I just have you both? There’s no right answer here. No right scenario.

  In the middle of my near panic attack, headlights quickly pass over my front window and a door shuts in the driveway. Rushing to the door, I open it just as Nolan’s about to knock. Smiling down at me, his dimples on full display, my stomach turns again. He’s so beautiful and perfect and amazing … maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s the man I’m supposed to be with, but with Jordan around all the time, I’ve not given Nolan a fair shot.