Destination Connelly (30 page)

It’s official.

Both of my girls have me wrapped completely and thoroughly around them.

I’m whipped.

And I’m decidedly okay with that.

N
ora

I
take
my time under the hot spray, reliving every single second of the past twelve hours, still not able to believe I haven’t fallen into some alternate universe where all of your dreams turn into reality. Any minute I expect to see tiny fairies with tiny magical wands flying around by their tiny wings. I feel like if I blink a second too long or take too deep of a breath this will all just disappear and I’ll be waking up alone in my bed once again.

Connelly wants me.

He forgives me.

He wants to be a family.

He wants to
marry
me.

Marry. Me.

I saw the hurt in his eyes when I told him I wanted to go slow. I used Hazel as an excuse, but I think I’m protecting myself just as much. I would break completely if this didn’t work and I didn’t lie that Hazel would be crushed. She’s already hinted several times about us all living happily ever after. The crazy girl has even picked out names for her fantasy siblings. I’ve tried to gently redirect her without crushing her burgeoning hope, but she refuses to listen. She’s adamant about a future with Connelly. She’s been surprisingly more mature about this entire thing than either her father or me.

I guess my young-in-age but mature-at-heart daughter had foresight I couldn’t even imagine.

Last night, I felt the weight of every burden I’ve carried alone for so long being lifted one by the one with each word I spoke. I felt like I could take a deep, cleansing breath for the first time in years. I got everything off my chest that I’d always wanted to say. I unloaded every sin, every worry, every mistake. I vomited it all.

Except one.

That
one I hope he never discovers. That’s the one I fear would crush him the most. That may even be the most unforgivable sin of all.

C
onn

I
heard
the water turn off just minutes ago. I’ve stood here over the heat of the stove for the last fifteen minutes fantasizing about Nora’s naked body in my glass shower stall, hot water sluicing down her curves, greedily hugging the perfect lines of her body. I envisioned her cupping her pussy and kneading her full breasts as she washed the final remnants of my scent away.

The caveman in me takes over at that thought. I need to mark her again. I inanely wonder if my brothers all feel like this about their women. I make a mental note to discreetly ask them next time we’re together.

As I impatiently wait for Nora to return so I can feed her and fuck her, in that order, the doorbell rings. I quickly assess what I’m wearing—green and white baggy gym shorts and nothing else—and decide it will be fine. It’s probably Ash anyway.

I fling open the door expecting my brother’s face to be staring back at me but have to drop my surprised gaze on my little girl standing there instead.

“Hazel? What are you doing here?” I glance down the hallway to see Ella’s nowhere to be found. I’m suddenly angry. “Where’s your aunt?”

Hazel ignores my outburst and breezes through the entryway.

“Are you just wandering the halls by yourself?” I demand as I follow her to the kitchen.

“Daddy, I’m ten years old. Actually, I’m closer to eleven now than ten. I’m not a baby. You know I can babysit
actual
babies when I’m eleven?” I’m a bit taken aback at the chastising grumble that comes from her little mouth. She’s a miniature version of her mother.

“Of course you’re not. I didn’t mean to imply you were a baby. I just…does Ella, I mean Mira, know where you are?”

A little eye roll accompanies her answer. “Yes.”

“And she let you come here by yourself?”

“You mean, did she let me walk down the
hallway
by myself?”

I feel like a fish gasping for air, my mouth opens and closes so many times while no words come out. This is a side of my daughter I’ve yet to see. Then she gives me a little smile, which is more like a smirk, and I’m hooked once again. “Okay, point taken.”

Hazel lazily hops up on a chair at the island. Her eyes pop at the feast I’ve laid out for Nora and me. Fresh fruit, including blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and sliced bananas accompany homemade crepes and hand-whipped cream. I’d honestly planned to eat most of my meal off of Nora, but I guess that will have to wait.

Suddenly I understand the perils having children has on your sex life. That just makes me all the more resolved to be creative because Hazel’s mother and I are just getting started with all of the wicked sins I will be lavishing on her. If that means breakfast in our bedroom at two in the morning, then so be it. I don’t need much sleep anyway.

“Hungry, Ladybird?” I ask with a grin.

“Famished!” she replies excitedly as she balances on her knees in her seat. She told me last week she loves it when I use her nickname, so I’ve tried to use it as often as possible.

I fill a plate with two of the French pancakes and start to pile some fruit on when I realize I don’t know what she likes. “Anything I shouldn’t add?”

Her little nose wrinkles up. “No raspberries. I don’t like the seeds.”

“Neither do I.” I wink, drawing a giggle from her. “You probably don’t like whipped cream, either, right?” The withering look I get makes my heart melt. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Setting the meal in front of her, I add, “Sorry I don’t have any nuts. I’m allergic.” Sometimes I forget about all the things people eat nuts on, crepes being one of them.

Her gaze snaps to mine. “You are?”

“Yep,” I nod, grabbing my own plate to fill. “Have been since I was a baby.”

“Me too,” she whispers in awe. Our eyes lock and I feel something unnamed pass between us. I think maybe it’s unconditional love.

“We have a lot in common, yeah?”

She just bobs her head and silence envelopes us.

“I knew when we moved here that something good was going to happen to us.”

“You did? Why?” I take a seat next to her, giving her my full attention.

“Do you believe in signs?”

I dip my head in agreement, thinking about all the signs that have been right in front of me, which I’ve ignored.

“Me too. I saw my good luck sign the night we moved here.”

“What’s your good luck sign, Hazel?” I think I know what she’ll say. She’s wearing it around her wrist even now, but I’m shocked at her explanation.

“A dragonfly.”

“I thought it was a ladybug?”

“Ladybugs are good luck too, but…”

“But what?” I prod at her hesitation. I reach for her small hand, taking it in mine. “You can tell me anything, Hazel.”

“But so are dragonflies. And Mommy told me once that dragonflies are creatures of water, just like my daddy.”

I frown, not understanding what either she, or Nora, would have meant by that, but my brilliant girl clears it up for me quickly. Apparently she’s inherited a love of all things philosophical like her mother.

“The sign, Cancer, is a water element. So I just knew when I saw a dragonfly stuck in my window on the first night we moved in that you were here.” She looks at me briefly before continuing. “And Mommy once told me that my daddy was a water sign like me. Pisces. And that’s why I was born so early, so I could be like him.”

My breath stops. My eyes actually tear.

A sniffle from the corner of the room draws my attention away from Hazel. When my gaze clashes with Nora’s, I fly into action without even thinking. Next thing I know her face is between my fingers, her lips meshed with mine. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until I remember our girl is nearby, watching. I’m not sure what the protocol is for showing affection in front of your child, but if it’s anything other than acceptable, I’m changing the damn rules.

“There is no you, Nora. There is no me. There’s just us. Do you understand? Just us.”

“Yes.”

I am demanding and she is sweetly compliant. It makes me so fucking hard when she surrenders to me like this. Remembering our daughter is looking on, I will my dick to at least a semihard state, grateful for my loose shorts, and chance a glance at Hazel. She is beaming from ear to ear. I expected disgust or maybe even apathy, but pure joy radiates from her like sunlight on a brand new day.

“It okay with you if I move in this week, Hazel?”

I hear Nora’s gasp, but I couldn’t care less. I want Nora. I want Hazel. I want them forever. I don’t plan on asking permission to piece my fractured family back together.

“Yeah!” she yells jumping off the chair and into my arms.

When my eyes slide back to Nora, she’s just shaking her head, but a grin that looks just like Hazel’s is painted on her face.

Love can hurt and heal. It can break and mend. It can be the loneliest place on earth or fill you will such a sense of completeness you feel like you’re going to ignite.

With both my girls in my arms, I’m on fucking fire.

N
ora

F
or weeks
now things have clicked along smooth as glass. Connelly didn’t wait a week to move in. He loaded up his car with a few days’ worth of clothes that Sunday night when he took us home. He’s been with us ever since.

Hazel is in heaven and I do believe I am right there with her.

He’ll drop casual hints here and there about marriage, but he’s yet to come outright and ask me. At first, I was a little miffed, but I think I’m okay with it now. I know I don’t need a piece of paper to make our relationship true and real.

“Knock, knock.”

I would recognize that voice anywhere. He’s been avoiding me like the plague lately.

“Come on in, stranger.”

Brad saunters inside. Leaving the door open, he takes a seat across from me. My desk separates us, but he feels so far away it may as well be the Grand Canyon. It makes my heart hurt.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he replies awkwardly, throwing one leg over the other.

“I’ve missed you,” I tell him lowly.

His eyes have been wandering everywhere, avoiding contact with mine. I taste good-bye suspended in the air.

“Again, sorry.”

“Why do I feel like you’re not here to talk about business?”

When his grays latch on to me, all I see is sorrow. He takes one long breath and before he speaks, I already know what he’ll say. “I wanted to tell you in person that I’ve handed in my resignation.”

“Brad, no…Why?”

He half snorts, half laughs. “Nora, do you really need to ask?”

Suddenly angry, I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “Yes, I really do
need
to ask.”

His eyes turn to steel and his jaw tightens. “Fine. You already know, but since you’re making me say it, I’m not going to hold back. I can’t watch you with
him
, that’s why. I don’t think you comprehend how in love with you I am, Nora, and I can’t witness firsthand
him
living the life that
I
want with you. That’s fucking torture. Daily. Fucking. Torture. It’s one thing to know I can’t have you. It’s another thing entirely to know someone else does.”

“Brad,” I start with compassion, “you knew there couldn’t be anything between us. I’ve made that very clear. I’ve never led you to believe otherwise.”

His eyes flit away briefly. “I know.” His resigned voice just about breaks me. I hate that my friend is hurting because of me and there’s nothing I can do about it. “I just always held out hope, like I imagine you did with him.”

Now it’s my turn to look away. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry seems appropriate, but I’m not. I’m sorry he’s
hurting
, but I won’t apologize for being with Connelly, where I’m meant to be.

“You don’t have to leave, Brad. Not because of this.”

He smiles sadly. “I do. Reverse the roles, Nora. If he were with someone else, what would you do?”

That’s a stupid question. I would rip her fucking eyes from their sockets.

I try a different tactic. “Connelly won’t accept your resignation.”

His mouth turns down. “He already did.”

After a silent stare-off, I croak, “I’m sorry.”

His head bobs back and forth as he stands. “Don’t be sorry, Nora. I’ve only ever wanted to see you happy. I’d just hoped it could eventually be with me, but you’re where you’re supposed to be. And so is Hazel.”

I swallow thickly.

“You are happy, right?” I hate the small thread of hope he has in his voice.

“Very.”

He nods once sharply, turning around one last time before he leaves. “You call if you ever need me, yeah?”

“Of course I will.”

I’m still watching the space Brad just vacated trying to work through my mixed emotions when Connelly steps through my doorway. The look on his face says it all.

“You heard, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he replies. Unrepentant, I might add.

I want to chuckle, but I’m still reeling a bit, sad to be losing a good friend even though it’s selfish of me. “You followed him here, didn’t you?”

Connelly shuts my door and closes the scant distance between us. I squeak when he picks me up out of my chair and sets me on my desk like I weigh nothing. He stands between my legs and holds my head still with his large hands. “Yes, I did. And I won’t apologize. He was going to make one final play for you.”

“He was telling me good-bye,” I argue.

“Nora, even you aren’t that obtuse.”

My lips curl, remembering how I called him that at the welcome party a few months ago.

“You clearly haven’t learned the rules of personal space yet,” I whisper hoarsely, unable to concentrate on anything now but the flames of desire dancing in his eyes.

He dips his head, skimming my jaw with his nose before sucking the sensitive skin underneath hard. “Princess, I know the rules. I simply choose not to follow them when it comes to you.”

My core gushes for him, like it always does, but he groans and pulls away before I have a chance to even reach for the simple mechanics that are keeping him from me.

“I want you,” I moan, my hands going to his waist.

“Jesus, I want to fuck you and tattoo every inch of you so every fucking man on this planet knows you belong to me.” He’s growly, possessive. I love it.

“Feeling the need to mark your territory?”

“Yes,” he answers shamelessly, his lips a hair away from mine.

“Then do,” I urge.

He drops his forehead to mine on a painful groan. “I wish I could, baby. I admit, I have another reason for being here. It’s work related.” At my pout, he grins and adds, “But we’ll definitely pick this up later. Doesn’t Hazel have photography lessons tonight?”

I nod.

“Good. I haven’t fucked you on the back patio yet and I plan to remedy that.”

“God, Connelly.” My heart rate surges at his sinful words. The prospect of doing something so wicked excites me.

Resigned to the fact that I need to wait until later to assuage the burning in my center, I ask, “So what did you need?”

“Alred called this morning.”

I immediately stiffen. In my entire career, I have never come across a more blatant chauvinist than Alred Kinnick. Most men at least
attempt
to hide their bigoted opinions, but he seems to go out of his way to showcase them like he’s proud of his small dick and even smaller mind.

“You do realize I can’t do my job if he calls you every time he needs something, right?”

“I’m sorry, Nora. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, I guess.”

“Well you can put the bitch down, then,” I mumble snidely under my breath. His chuckle eases the sting of the situation a little. I have given
Alred
no less than a dozen highly capable candidates for his CEO position over the past two months and he picks each one apart. God help the person who does pass his unreasonable scrutiny.

“He has a new candidate he’d like
us
to talk to.”

Us
. Of course.

“Who?”

“Alan Johansen.”

I swear by all that’s holy, every molecule of oxygen was just sadistically sucked out of my hundred-twenty-square-foot office space.

“Alan?” I can’t breathe.

“Yeah, he’s the CEO at a midsized investment firm in Maryland. Kinnick got wind of him somehow and is intrigued. As luck would have it Alan’s in Chicago for the next few days speaking at a conference and he has time for dinner tonight. I’ve already talked to him and we’ll be meeting at The Met at seven.”

I open my mouth, unsure of what’s going to come out other than oh-hell-to-the-fucking-no, when he speaks over me. “I already talked to Gray. Landyn is going to take Hazel to their place after school, so we’ll just spend the night at my place since we’ll probably get in late. I guess I’ll have to fuck you on the patio another time.”

I ignore his joke.

“Connelly—”

I’m once again cut off, this time with a quick kiss. “I gotta run, princess. I’m already late for meeting with Ash. It will be great to catch up with our third, won’t it?” he adds excitedly.

Our third. The tripod of Dowling High, us three. Where Connelly went, so did Alan, so we spent a lot of time together.

Once again I’m left staring at nothing but air, my mind still spinning on the tilt-a-whirl.

I haven’t seen or heard from Alan Johansen in over a decade. The last I’ve seen of my one-time good friend was the horrifying morning I woke up in his arms the night after Connelly’s birthday party. The last time I talked to him was a week later to make sure he understood how much of a mistake I’d made when I begged him not to tell Connelly about either us or the fact that I’d seen Connelly with someone else.

Alan was the one who’d helped me plan the surprise visit for Connelly’s birthday. Alan was the one who picked me up from the airport and drove me to his house when my flight was delayed by four hours because of severe thunderstorms in Baltimore. Alan was the one standing beside me as we watched a beautiful brunette writhe on my love’s naked body.

And Alan, the third in our tight little unit, a boy I loved but was not in love
with
, was the one who intimately comforted me after I’d drunk myself into a black stupor.

He is my biggest mistake. My deepest regret. And the one unforgivable betrayal Connelly can never discover.