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"Come with me," I begged, hoping for an answer soon because my whole body was alive, nerves tingling with the electric current that shorted everything but the two of us. Everything except this pleasure.
"I'm close," he said brusquely. "Are you ready?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tilting precariously on the edge. "Yes...I...I..."
"Come."
The pressure was unbearable.
Beautiful.
Agony.
Release.
I knew I was groaning, crying out for him. Jacob. And he said my name, pulling together the pieces of me. Making me whole again.
"Fuck a few days," he said with a rumbling laugh. "I'm taking no prisoners." His voice deepened, making me grin because I knew what it meant. "Get some rest."
He didn't need to say more than that. When he got home, he was going to blow my freaking mind.
I grinned, pushing aside the whispers about the w edding. Bring it on.
****
"I guess this means I'm out of the dog house."
I rolled my eyes so hard they practically rolled out of my head. It would have just made things worse if Mom would have seen it, but she was preoccupied with trying to figure out how to sit her seat up.
At least I could roll my eyes in peace. I had a feeling peace, calm and lack of drama would be non existent for the next few hours.
"You feel the lever on the side? Pull it up to bring the chair up and push it down to recline."
"Well I'm certainly not going to recline," she huffed. "If I recline anymore I'll be horizontal."
I watched as she brought the seat to an awkward ninety degree angle before I put the car in drive. I was trying to keep my eyes on the road, but she kept fidgeting and squirming in her seat.
"Everything alright, Mom?"
"It's just the leather is so stiff." When I gave her a wary look, she tacked on, "Not that it's not a beautiful car, honey. I'm just not used to all these frills."
You'd think we were riding in a Bentley instead of a ‘13 Hyundai Sonata. I knew she was just being herself, ornery with a smile, but I couldn't help but take offense. This was the first car that ever had my name on it. I put down the hefty downpayment myself and signed the dotted line and upgraded from my rust bucket to something shiny. And mine. I felt so empowered. Proud.
When I came over and presented it with a flourish, she took every ounce of air from my sails by asking if it was a gift from Jacob.When I told her I bought it with my salary she gave me this pointed look that all but said that wasn't that different. And then there was her lackluster ‘Awww’ when she saw the ring. I was totally unprepared for it since she’d hounded Jacob, trying to figure out why I didn't have a ring.
I’d been looking forward to seeing her, sharing that OMG moment, but now I felt guilty because I was regretting this dinner already and we hadn’t even made it to the restaurant. There was something else that was bugging me. Mom was a talker. There was no such thing as silence when she was in the vicinity. She’d complain about the dogs or the news or something, letting me off the hook from trying to actually have a conversation.
She was notably quiet, looking out the window like I did as a kid when I was trying to illustrate just how mad I was after an argument.
“What’s wrong?”
She faced me, eyes wide and innocent. “Everything’s fine, Leila. Perfect even--I get to go out with my daughter and celebrate her engagement in her brand new car.”
Both of those occasions should have been things to be happy about and I almost believed she was okay until she flashed me the fakest smile I’d ever seen on her face. If I wasn’t barreling down the freeway, I would have slammed on my brakes.
My mother was a lot of things. She was loud, brash, tactless, giving, and overly excitable. She’d never met a stranger and was fiercely loyal to her family and friends. She was a little celebrity crazy, but who wasn’t these days? Entire careers were built on the public’s voracious need to know everything about the rich and famous.
But she didn’t have a phony bone in her body and when I looked at the curve of her lips, I knew immediately that she wasn’t being honest with me.
