Escalation Clause (22 page)

Mo heard Brandis in mid major temper tantrum and went back to his room. Sara stared at her son as his back arched, heels pounded the floor, his still naked skin turning an alarming shade of red. “Can I help?” Sara looked up at her, her face both blank and helpless. She shrugged and Mo’s heart broke for her. She grabbed the boy and wrapped him in a blanket, forcing his flailing limbs to be still. He kept sobbing, hitching sounds of little boy frustration. She sat in a rocking chair with him and sang in his ear until he stilled and finally slept.

“How do you do that? I am such a useless mother.” Sara said softly from her position, still on the floor.

“No, you aren’t. I’m merely a fresh set of hands. But swaddling him like this sometimes helps. I know it did with Ella a lot.” She laid the boy in his bed, brushed his black hair off his face. “Children are a blessing and a curse. They wear you out because you love them so hard, and they do everything they can to make you regret it, especially when they’re teenagers.” She turned, pulled Sara up and guided her out of the room. “He’ll pee in his bed, but sometimes honestly, the fight to make him put on clothes is one worth losing. Pick your battles.”

Sara turned to her, as sounds of video games floated up the basement steps. Her eyes were wild. Mo gulped with the emotion she saw there. “Help me get him back Mo. I need Jack, but he’s not meeting me halfway. I’ll admit the whole withholding thing,” she shook her head. “That backfired, in a fun way at first but….”

Mo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay officially TMI for the sister. But I hear you.”

“I will die without him.” Sara kept her eyes on the floor but Mo believed her. “But I…he…we….”

“Exactly,” Mo put her arm around her sister-in-law’s shoulders and they walked back to the kitchen. “Let’s make a plan. How about a long weekend away? You guys haven’t had any alone time to speak of since the baby, and Blake.”

“No we haven’t. He’s so obsessed right now with this fucking soccer thing.” Julie came back in with a plateful of cooked burgers. “God, if I hear another word about stadiums, expansions, coaches and recruiting…so help me.”

“You guys aren’t using your own money for this are you?” Mo sat. She knew the answer but wanted to know that Jack was at least communicating this much to his wife.

Sara shook her head. “No. Jack is the connector he claims. He puts the money guys, the investors and the potential coaching staff together. He’s found a location for the stadium, has an entire construction package for some kind of “state of the art” facility. I don’t know. But no, our money is not involved.”

Mo sighed, relieved. “Fine. So let’s pick a weekend, like really soon, for you guys to get away. Take him far away, too. Maybe where you guys went that one time….”

Sara blushed a deep red. Mo patted her hand. “Make it happen, Sara. Be proactive. He’s on the ragged edge of something. It’s up to you to drag him back this time. He did it for you. Now, it’s your turn to step up.”

“Okay enough serious crap for tonight,” Julie insisted, pouring more wine all around. “I think we’ve solved almost every dilemma here, haven’t we?”

Lila wandered in and sank into a chair. Julie pointed at her with her fork. “You are sorted, right? Go back. Work with Rob. Be his business partner. Just tell him flat out how you feel, what you’re scared of, and then tell him when he’s ready to be a family again, you’re there. But not before.”

“Tried that. I’m considering something more drastic. Like a blow job.”

Julie laughed. “Well, as we all know here,” she made a circling motion with her finger. “Men are simple creatures. I think that would work. And you,” she pointed to Sara. “You, Jack, long weekend away, conversation and wild, kinky sex. Check.”

Sara stuck her tongue out at her friend, but smiled. “And you have the ideal marriage and therefore do not need our sage, three-bottle-fueled advice?” She looked pointedly at the collar Julie wore. The one she had taken off once but had recently started wearing again.

Julie touched the pendant. “Yeah, he claims it’s a turn on. And God knows with kids in the house and his brewery expanding he’s too tired to do much more than fondle it every night.” She looked down at her plate. “I put it back on hoping to revive a little zing in the marriage bed. So far, so not.”

“Thank God!” Sara threw her hands up. “If you had told me things were perfect I was going to force feed you another hamburger, you know, put some pounds on your skinny bod, you bitch.”

Julie laughed and lifted her glass. The other women joined her. “To us. To our men. And to the attorneys who will defend us after we kill them in their sleep.” They clinked.

“Now,” Julie leveled a look at Mo. Mo raised an eyebrow when the other two stared at her as well. “I want full on details of how it feels to fuck a hot young Latin soccer coach. C’mon…spill it. Don’t make me call him and ask.”

Mo put her fork down, wiped her mouth with her napkin primly and made a zipping motion across her lips.

“She hasn’t yet, poor thing,” Sara patted her knee, her smile wicked. “Still fighting the urges though.”

Lila and Julie both raised their hands.

“We volunteer! Tell him we can, you know, warm him up.” Julie said. Mo frowned at her.

Sara lifted her wine glass again. “So in the spirit of honest advice among ladies here I say you owe it to yourself to let that smoking Latin hunk of a professional athlete fuck you silly. Soon. Or risk becoming a dried up old lady who feeds her cats and reads romance novels to get her jollies.”

“Listen, it’s more complicated than that.” Mo protested.

“Please,” Sara rolled her eyes. “What, he might want more than sweaty, young man sex? Like he might want to hang around a while? You know…love you or something? Oh, poor thing. Can I see a show of hands who’s jealous at this table?” The women laughed, all raising their hands. Mo relaxed, letting the memory of last night’s conversation play again.

Chapter Fifteen

“Um, Lila?” She looked up from the week’s scheduling at Rob’s voice. “I gotta say, you are a miracle worker.” He dropped into the chair across from her while the night staff shut the pub down. She fought the urge to wipe the splotch of flour from his cheek, to brush her thumb over his lips. His face seemed less gaunt lately, his eyes much less haunted. But she still felt superfluous, and Gabe was going nuts not being with his dad. She bit her lip.

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised,” she looked back down at the schedule, forcing herself to stay quiet.

“No, I mean it. I swear the last month has been the most drama free I can remember since opening this place. I can focus on the kitchen. The brewer…” he gulped, but rallied. “The brewery staff does their job and you…” he stood, “you, my dear, have presided over our most profitable thirty-day period in the history of The Local.”

She started to protest when he pulled her to her feet but the feel of his hand in the small of her back and the sensation of his lips near hers once more made her want to grab him and hold on tight. But she turned her head away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much she wanted him.

 They’d been living apart for several months, and it was starting to wear on everybody. Her formerly energetic, inquisitive little boy had lost his enthusiasm for anything, leaving a sad, wide-eyed, tow-headed toddler being shuffled between parents. It killed her. One thing she had always been good at was being a mom. Having kids around made her feel complete. Frankly, she wanted another one. She pursed her lips and shrugged out of his arms. Fat chance for that. Maddie had been enough for her once, then Gabe was such an amazing blessing. But his creation and birth would forever be tied to the horror that ripped Blake from their lives.

They had all agreed not to emphasize biology with regard to the boy’s parentage. Blake and Rob would be his father, period, regardless of who had fertilized the egg. But in the days, weeks, and months since Blake’s death she’d pondered a blood test, to know for sure, hoping the baby was Blake’s so she could consider that his legacy for her. Rob had balked at that idea. She knew he wanted that piece of Blake as well, and didn’t want to be disappointed if they discovered Rob was indeed Gabe’s biological father. The older he got, the more of Blake she believed she saw in his personality but didn’t want to project and so just accepted what he was—her beautiful, blond little boy. Who was truly a near mirror image of the man holding her now.

“It’s not rocket science. Neither of you guys were cut out to manage a restaurant that’s all. You wanted to manage your kitchen, Blake his brewery. And you kept hiring dumbasses to handle the front of the house for you. I’m organized and know how to deal with the staff. No big deal.” She started to sit but Rob gripped her arm.

“Please, come back home, Lila. I…I miss you. I miss us so much.”

She shivered at his words. “I don’t know, Rob. I mean, maybe you and I aren’t meant to be. Not without—”

Rob’s broad shoulders slumped and he looked so completely bereft it was almost funny, if it weren’t so shitty. She let her gaze travel down his apron-covered torso and her palm itched to untie it, to hold him and kiss him until he couldn’t stand it another minute. A bright pulse of erotic energy hit her core, making her gasp. She watched him clench and unclench his fists, then sit again, running his hand through his hair. She couldn’t resist. She touched it, ran her fingers through its silky yellow softness.

The bartenders called out and she waved to them. The main lights flickered then went off, plunging them into dark. His eyes held hers, their deep brown lit from the street. “I need you,” she whispered. Then she pulled him to his feet, wrapped herself around him. The kiss spoke words she wished she could say and hoped he heard.

Just when he gripped her hair to hold her closer she tore herself away. “I need this,” she whispered as she untied his apron. He stayed still as it dropped to the floor and she popped the button on his jeans. “Please,” she leaned into his ear as she slid the zipper down and fisted his shaft. He groaned as she pushed him back towards the bar then went down on her knees. He tasted just like she remembered, and the tilt of hips, the sweet sound of his moans as she kept her fist moving and sucked the head of his cock between her lips were like music to her ears.

She slipped her other hand under his balls, stroked the smooth skin there. He gripped her hair. “Lila,” He grunted. “Stop.” But she didn’t.

Suddenly she was on her feet, folded into his arms and he was bending her back over the table, sending all their charts, phones and one empty beer glass to the floor. He ripped her panties off with one flick of his wrist, shoved her skirt up. “Oh, yes. Robert,” she threaded her fingers in his hair, met his lips and they cried out as one. The glorious feel of her man inside her, finally, again, made her want to cry but she didn’t. “Fuck me, hard. Now.”

“God,” He gripped her ass, thrust deep and slow then withdrew, biting down on her lower lip when she tightened herself around him. “Oh hell yes,” He moaned into her neck increasing his rhythm, pounding into her, making the table’s iron base screech against the concrete floor. She wrapped her legs around him, leaned her head back and let the orgasm lift her, take her and spin her around. “Damn, I have missed that,” He said, looking deep into her soul as she pulsed and thrummed from the climax.

She held his face in her hands, kept moving her hips. “Come now, Robert. Give it to me. Give me all of it.” He shuddered, then kissed her and did as he was told.

She shivered, held him close. “I love you. But I’m not moving back in. Not yet. We have a long way to go, and I want to make sure you’re sure. That you aren’t just doing this because you think you have to. Because of Gabe, or Blake’s memory or whatever.”

He withdrew from her, stood, and zipped his jeans back up. She sat on the edge of the table, terrified but certain. “That’s fine,” he picked up the apron. “I’ll get the broom.” He started to turn but she grabbed his arm.

“Don’t shut down on me. I mean it. I want us to handle this together. To grieve together. And I want to plan a two-year memorial for him at the lake house.”

Rob shut his eyes. But she kept talking. “Listen to me, please.” He opened them, and the pain there she knew matched what she felt every damn day. “I want you, I want us to be together. I want another baby. I want to sell that house filled with everything that was Blake and buy another one. But I want something else even more. I want you to be certain you really love me.”

He sucked in a breath, let the silence spin out about a half minute too long for her taste. She let go of him. “I’ll clean it up. Go home. Gabe’s at your house this week, and we both know he won’t sleep unless you’re there.”

Rob opened his mouth, but Lila shook her head. Proud of herself but at the same time miserable for what she may still yet lose, she watched as he went out the back door of the kitchen without another word.