Logan. That’s Barron’s middle name, too, and now I wonder if Nathan will feel out of the Logan loop. Because that’s what you do as a parent—you worry whether or not your children will feel equally loved and wanted. You seek out the deficits they might be feeling and you fill them.
Logan and Skyla. Together at last. I frown at the picture a moment. Where is this girl they were destined to have? I suppose she comes later. My guess is this is Candace’s way of saying,I’m not done with you yet. Go forth and be fruitful.
A heavy sigh expels from me. All those years of loving Skyla, secretly afraid she’d walk out the door for Logan—the one she gave her heart to first, the one I knew deep down inside she would never stop loving or wanting, not in that way—and here it’s come to pass. But not because she walked away. Because I did. The irony is too rich. I spent my days fearing something that later I would only bring upon myself.
“I did it to save us, Skyla,” I whisper as I look at their precious child. And now the world has a precious gift because of it. No, my love for Skyla has never wavered. If anything, it has only grown stronger. I will not lie down and die. I will fight for us to be together forever where it really counts, in the paradise of God for all eternity. Better to live in strife for a moment, to be hated in this microsecond called life than to miss out on forever with the people I love. They might not see the light at the moment, but they’ll understand in the end. They will. This I know is true.
A soft knock comes to the door and it startles me. It startles the butterflies who hang heavy in the air, fluttering their wings lazily as if they were drunk. The sun has just barely crested the horizon. I haven’t slept all night, not that I need to, but it’s a ritual that still brings me pleasure, one of the last I have left.
The knocking increases a notch. Rory never knocks. I thought she might come by last night to comfort me. I would have liked that. I definitely needed it. Rory may look like Skyla, but she’s not as intuitive. We don’t have that spark. There is no deep soul connection there. It’s all sex—the raunchier, the better. She’s nothing more than a celestial hooker with my ex-wife’s face.
It wouldn’t be my mother. My mother doesn’t dare head upstairs—not this far up. If there was an emergency with the baby, she’d knock on my bedroom door where logic would dictate I’d be. She’s downstairs in the nursery with Mally.
Mally, who cries all night as if she were begging the truth of her paternity to be known, as if she craved the attention a real father would give her. And Wesley craves her, too. I’ve seen that look in his eyes when he holds her, and he does so more than me.
“Come in,” I say softly as if the person on the other end had roused me from a deep sleep.
The door opens, and before I know it, Chloe has sealed herself inside. Her hair is combed neatly, she’s wearing a silk black robe, and I can smell the scent of her fruity sweet perfume from here.
“Hello, big boy.”
Shit.
She slinks on over, swiveling her hips and drops the robe to reveal her anxious-to-have-me hard pink nipples and that Bermuda triangle at the base of her hips that I will never venture to.
Chloe lands in my lap, takes up my hand, and smashes my palm against her chest. Her lips dip down to mine and she dots me with a kiss.
“Why are you here?” She pulls back, her eyes glossed with moisture.
A breath pumps through me. I have no good answer for her. I do my best to barricade my thoughts from her, this woman, the wife of my choosing. I handpicked Chloe as a signal to Skyla. As a mark of my new wicked brand, but I never thought about how hard the follow-through would be.
Wes is right. I can’t avoid the inevitable forever. But my flesh is repulsed by her touch, and screwing her for the hell of it is simply not an option.
Where does that leave us? How far will Chloe go to cover up our dark, carnal secret? I know for a fact she hasn’t let on to Skyla. Not really. My game works for her, too. It protects her pride, and that’s not something Chloe Bishop easily parts with.
“I like it here.” I run my hand down her hair a moment, petting her as if she were a child. “I can think.”
“Gage, you don’t sleep in our marriage bed. You don’t perform the functions that a husband owes a wife.”
This is the part where I’d like to sayI don’t owe you anything, but I can’t. Chloe is right. I owe her my body, and if anything, I have proven to be a relentless holdout.
“I have needs, Gage. And new body or not, I know you do, too. I don’t want my perfectly good husband to sit in this room night after night, jacking off to the memory of his ex-wife. Get over it. Skyla and Logan are officially bonded for life.”
“They didn’t need a baby to do that. It has always been true.” It comes out sharp, argumentative. Chloe is winnowing her way into the deepest wound I have, the incurable wound. And if she were smart, she would pack up her playthings and leave right now.
“Okay, who cares? I don’t give a shit about their relationship.” She grips me by the shirt and curls into me. “I care about us. You and me, Gage. I’ve given you time. By anyone’s standards, I’ve been more than patient. It’s time we start acting like husband and wife. You married me. Our one-year anniversary is coming up, and we’ve yet to sleep together outside of our wedding night. What in the hell?” Her voice hitches up a notch. Her eyes are dark and cold. “I can only deal with so much. You can have me, Gage. All of me. I will do whatever you want. No limits. You can be as rough and aggressive as you like. I know you’re frustrated. I know you needed time to heal from Skyla. But she’s moved on, and so have you. That day in the throne room—you made your choice. You could have had Skyla forever, but you chose me. And believe me, I have not even tried to analyze that one.” A dark, husky laugh brews in her chest, and it sounds like a threat. “Gage, I turned my back on my people for you. I built a family with you. We share a daughter. Mally is our child just as much as I am your wife. Whatever hang-ups you have about the past, it’s time to let them go. I’m here. I’m your wife. Let me love you with my body. You know how this works. This isn’t your first rodeo. And don’t for a minute try to tell me you’re not into sex. I know for a fact Messenger was getting plenty.” She tips her head back and sniffs the air hard, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’m not dragging you to some human psychologist. You don’t need a doctor to help you get it up. You need to be a man and move past the hurt. You need to accept the decisions you made. You need to give me your body. Right now.” Chloe swings her hair side to side, slowly as if it were all a part of her seduction routine. “I don’t like you sulking night after night in this ode to your ex. It’s not healthy. That’s why Lex is coming by in a few hours. I’m dismantling the butterfly room.”
She glances at the blue winged creatures, and they scatter in fear to the four corners of the room.
“I’m turning it into a playroom for the kids.” She sighs. “You have a bedroom, a bed. You belong right next to me, Gage. Today is the day we’re turning this train around, and we’re starting right now.”
She cups my hands and bears hard into my eyes. “And now, you’re going to kiss me like you mean it.”
This is it. Do or die. I’m about to test the limits of Chloe Bishop’s resolve, and my stellar intuition tells me I will not care for where this is about to lead.
I have options, though. Kiss her. Satiate her every sexual need. Think of it as something perfunctory, something that needs to happen to keep the body going like breathing, eating a meal, or defecating.
Her lips meet with mine and I inch back a notch.
