In the Mix (41 page)

CiCi’s been in bed for three hours now, not wanting to get out of it. I’ve had Maddie here to check on her but she won’t really talk to her, either. All she will say is that she needs to be alone right now. All I can do is give her that space and try to find something to do besides stare at the clock.

I grab her folder marked “Plan B” in the office and flip it open on my desk. I’m so proud of her. She really listened to me and now has everything neatly organized. This reminds me, I need to call Roger on Monday to see how things are going with the sale of her house. It shouldn’t take long at all. It’s reasonably priced and we’ve just had everything fixed that needed to be fixed. That was a battle and a half. She gave me a hard time whenever I took the bill for something. I was getting annoyed by it and when the last contractor approached me with his bill, I shot her down with a panty-melting look. Well, that’s what she called it. I was just trying to tell her to shut the fuck up without actually saying it. It worked to my benefit—twice.

Oh, what do we have here? I didn’t know that she was already looking at models for her grooming van. I can’t help but laugh. She has two sides: What CiCi wants and What CiCi can afford. The one she wants has all of the bells and whistles; it looks like a short bus (no pun intended). It’s really nice but definitely out of her price range. According to her budget, she’ll be paying this off for the next ten years. Not good. Then, there’s the side she can afford. It’s a beautiful, shiny red wagon with buckets next to it and some sponges. Her budget says, “Black Friday special—I can buy two=Rolling in it . . . literally.”

Well, I think we can do better than a red wagon. I grab my phone and call the company. Yeah, I know, I’m gonna get a lot of shit for this. I’m slightly shocked that someone actually picks up the phone. Then again, it’s Black Friday, who isn’t buying mobile grooming vans today? I start going through the list of things she wants. “Colors? She didn’t mention colors . . . uh . . .”

“Here, give me that,” CiCi says softly from behind me and takes the phone out of my hands. She proceeds to talk to the woman on the phone, telling her everything she wants. I stare in awe at her, not only because she’s not giving me a rash and a shit about ordering this thing, but she’s walking around in only one of my t-shirts. She gives me a shy smile when she notices me staring then pads over to me. I lean back on the office chair for her to sit on my lap. She continues to go down the list with the lady while I rub her back. Finally, she finishes up the call. “We have to go down there tomorrow to sign all of the paperwork.”

“Ok.” I kiss her neck. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

“It was either that or lugging all of my shit in a red wagon, going from door to door like some sort of moron.” She shrugs.

“Why don’t we get some soup into you?” I pat her knee.

“Ok.” She stands up and I take her hand as we head out of the office.

“Can you put on pants?”

“I can. I think I learned to do it by the time I was three.” She smiles back at me.

“Smartass.” I tap her butt. “Please put on pants; I’m trying to control myself over here,” I plead.

“Suck it up, buttercup.” She opens the fridge. She bends over. I bite my fist. “What do you want to eat?”

“You seriously just asked me that question?”

“I want comfort food; let’s order a pizza.” She stands back up, closing the door.

“Do you want to talk about the letter and how you are feeling?” I turn her towards me gently.

“No. I can’t right now.”

“Okay. I have an idea.” I place my hands on her hips and move her closer to me.

“Uh, oh.” She laughs.

“Don’t uh oh me.” I sweep her lips. “Tonight, we will veg out in front of the TV like we had originally planned. We will not mention anything about the letter or what happened for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow—we will talk. Uh-uh, nope.” I put my finger to her lips when she opens them as if to oppose. “You need to talk about this this, Ceese; you can’t sweep it under the rug and act like you’re alright just because you took a few hours to yourself. You’ve come so far. It would kill me to see you regress.”

“I’m not done thinking about everything, Kyle. I’m not done working it out for myself. I need time to do that,” her voice so vulnerable . . . so lost.

“It took you fifteen years, last time.”

Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.

She averts her eyes and slightly sucks in her lips almost like she’s fighting the urge to say something. Her head gives a little nod and she takes in a deep breath. “C’mon, let’s order pizza and see what’s on tonight.” She pats my chest and frees herself from my grasp on her hips. As soon as she leaves the kitchen, I throw a couple of punches at an imaginary opponent then try to rip my hair out in frustration.

What?

It’s a guy thing—fuck off!

Lying on my side in bed, I stare at my engagement ring as Kyle plays with it. It’s New Year’s Day and I’ve had my Wheaties twice this morning already—know what I’m sayin’? Despite what happened over Thanksgiving, the last month has been wonderful. Kyle made things official before Christmas, surprising me with this gorgeous, platinum, split shank, double cushion halo engagement ring. He gave me a proper proposal but then asked me if he could do the one he was dying to do. Of course I agreed; the not knowing would’ve killed me. He then proceeded to ask me if I would allow him the honor of being my dipshit for the rest of our lives. How the fuck could I say no to
that?
! To say everyone was thrilled would be an understatement (The girls were especially gaga over the dipshit proposal). Next, my house sold! Booyah, motherfuckers—I made forty grand more than I was anticipating! Much to his dismay, I made Kyle take that money to go towards my new souped up groomin’ machine. It wasn’t easy; I had to grab him by the balls—again. In return, he did wicked things to me. I’d hardly call that punishment, though. This will be my first week soliciting customers. I’ve asked Winnie to come along and do the talking, so I actually get customers . . . a-hem.

“What are you thinking about?” He plants several kisses on my shoulder.

“Just how wonderful this last month has been.” I snuggle closer into his chest.

“Mmm . . . it has been.” He closes his eyes and a small, contented smile graces his face.

“Do you have a plant or something in Washington?” It’s a random question but one I’ve been thinking about for a while.

“When do you want to go?” he asks as he opens one eye to look at me.

“As soon as possible. I need to meet her. I need to meet his family. I need closure, Kyle.” I bite back my lip.

“Who will you tell her you are? Remember, he said she thinks you’re dead.”

“I know. I’m going to just say that I am a friend from College.”

“She’s seen pictures of you.”

“Shit.”
Fuck, I didn’t think of that.

“Tell her you’re your sister, Caroline. That you are out on a business trip with your fiancé and you heard the news and wanted to pay your respects.”

“It’s a little scary how quickly you thought of that.” I furrow my brows at him suspiciously.

“I’m a closer, Birkita. I get paid to think quickly on my feet.” He kisses me and pushes my hair behind my left ear.

“And off of them.” I wink at him. He whips me onto my back, proving my point. “This doesn’t bother you; my wanting to do this?” I stare up into his eyes.

“No.” His fingers play at my lips. “Not at all.” He kisses me. “I’m relieved that you are taking any step, never mind this huge leap. It only reassures me more, beautiful.”

“Reassures you?”

“That you really love me and that you’re ready for our future. I’m not going to lie; a part of me still wakes up every morning, wondering if you will walk away from what we have. All that pushing me away in the beginning did a number on me,” he says, his eyes focusing on his fingers playing at my jawline.

“C’mon, Kyle, I didn’t push
that
hard.”

“No. But if you were a politician, you’d have “flip flopper” stamped on your head in any opponents ads.” He chuckles.

“You seriously just compared me to a politician?” I smack his ass. “Dork!”

“Mmm . . . again, mistress,” he teases.

“Oh, shut-up!” I laugh. Bastard’s always making fun of the books I read. You know what, though? I know he reads them when he gets a free moment because—
bam
—out of nowhere, he’s doing some hot shit to me that I just fucking read about. You think I call him out on it, though? Hell no! I now fucking highlight the shit I want to try and make little notes in my reader. The other night, I crossed another thing off my bucket list for sex. Let’s just say Purp and Kyle have become partners in crime, or . . . both lanes were open, know what I mean, jelly bean? Fuck, I think I’m still feeling the aftermath from that. “You remember what we did the other night?” I ask, my voice trembling a little.

“Jesus,” he groans, closing his eyes.

“I think he might have been called upon that night, but I’m talking about the actual act.” I giggle.

“Two lanes open?”

“Yes.”

“You want to do that again . . . now?” His eyes instantly turn a darker shade of blue.

“Down, cowboy, down!” I tease. “No. I want to tape that the next time we do it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if I can handle watching it without exploding in my pants.”

“Your honesty is so hot at times, Kyle.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, it’s true.” He laughs. “But if that’s what you want, and you feel this
is
helping you, then I’m on board. You know that I am. Anything you need, especially sexually, I’m there.”

“That’s good to know.” I act indifferent.

“How about now? Do you need me now?” he asks quickly in a joking tone as he entices lady boom boom with his love muscle (haha . . . love muscle; I crack myself up).

“I always need you.” I wrap my arms and legs around him.

“Do you think Maddie’s idea of doing the sex tapes helps?” He suddenly gets a serious look on his face.

“Well, I thought it was a little crazy at first, but I have to admit, it does make me feel like I’m taking some control back. It gives power back to my consent. Funny how the mind works, huh?”

“I think it helps to know that they don’t leave this house. You’re the only one with the key to the box they’re in so you know no one else will ever see them besides us. Not that I would do that anyway, but you know what I mean. Also, you can destroy them whenever you want.”

“Oh, hell no! They are too fucking hot to destroy!” I widen my eyes.

“Thank Christ! It would be a fucking
crime
to burn those!” He laughs and I swear I hear a hint of relief in there.

“Back to the subject at hand, what are you gonna do about the leak down there?” I shift my hips so he can feel it.

“Well, ma’am, I’m gonna have to lay some pipe down,” he plays.

“Are you sure you have the right pipe for the job?”

“It’s a big pipe, ma’am, but you’ll want that snug fit.” He runs it up and down my center. “Does that feel like the right pipe for the job, Ceese?” he murmurs before taking my nipple into his mouth.

“The only pipe for the job, Kyle.” I attack his lips. And with that . . .

He layeth the pipeth down.

And it is soooo good.

“Nervous?” He kisses the back of my hand as we begin our descent on the runway of SeaTac.

“Did Moby have a dick?”

Kyle laughs lightly. “Ceese, his name was Moby Dick.”

“Same difference.”

“Right, of course it is.” He bites back his smile.

“Thank you.” I squeeze his hand.

“For what?”

“For doing this. For being there for me even when I didn’t want you to be. I really do appreciate it.” I lean over and kiss him.

“I’d do anything for you, Birkita—I love you.” He palms the left side of my face and I lean into his touch, relishing it.

Our moment breaks when the wheels hit the ground, making us bounce a little. Once we are taxied and cleared to get off, we head to the company car waiting for us. “Are we still going right there?” he asks.

“Yes. I think I only brought one set of balls with me and if I don’t go now, I may lose them,” I say as serious as a heart attack.