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Tyra
Where wasthis man standing before me a year ago? No, excuse me, eleven months, eighteen days, and whatever hours he spouted off? My hand touches my mouth, trying to understand where Mace is coming from. I mean, literally months ago, he texted me, begging to help him with Von when he was sick. Then Mace got sick, and it was me nursing my ex-husband back to health when it should have been anybody but me. I’m a sucker, though, and never could say no to the devilishly handsome man before, until tonight.
“Mace, I gave you so many tries. I begged you not to buy that monstrosity of a house, to cut back on hours at work, to be a husband and a father. You didn’t choose us; you chose money. Making partner was more important than your family. I can’t and won’t put myself back in that situation again.” Mace has no idea what he’s doing to me. This is nothing like before; he’s ripping open a wound I swore was slowly closing, and while I would love nothing more for the man in front of me to be true to his word, I’m not sure I trust it.
“One night, siren.” Son of a bitch. I haven’t heard Mace use that term of endearment in so long, it has my breath hitching, and I’m ashamed to say what it does to that place between my legs. I’m weak for my ex-husband. I shouldn’t be, and yet here I am, already conjuring up an excuse to Brian, ready and willing to take Mace’s hand even though I’m jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.
“This isn’t a good idea. You know this as well as I do.” I try to make him see the light of day on what’s only going to turn into an epic disaster. We’re cordial with each other. Okay, we’re more than cordial. We do everything we can together for Von as long as Mace isn’t working. Birthday celebrations, holidays, school functions, we sit together and make it work, for Von. Christmas was the hardest. The first of everything truly is, but Christmas, when we had a family tradition and Mace didn’t wake up with next to me in bed, it took everything I had to finish my crying jag and make myself presentable to open the door so he could be there when Von opened presents.
“I’m not giving up. Did that already. Lose the loser and come with me. If what I have to say by the end of the night isn’t enough to make you believe in me, I’ll let you go.” My biggest fear could possibly come true, Mace letting me go, our so-called friendship deteriorating. I could really use Celeste’s opinion right about now. Too bad I can’t be like ‘Hold this thought,’ sneak away, have a meltdown, call my best friend, get her advice, and then come back being the kick-ass independent I usually am. “Please, siren.” Right in the fucking feels is where Mace hits me with that plea.
“I’m not promising anything, and I’m only doing this because Brian deserves better than me,” I huff out, annoyed with myself.
“Not possible. He knows you’re a good thing. It’s why he can’t take his eyes off you while he downs the rest of that fruity concoction he’s slurping on.” I don’t know whether to sigh in happiness that Mace is realizing what he’s lost or laugh because of the whole drink situation. I will say, while his eyes were on me the entire time, he clearly made sure to keep Brian in his peripheral vision, another nuance that is all Mace.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I’m second-guessing everything right about now. Am I stupid for getting my hopes up that Mace is finally seeing the light? Am I being a bitch for leaving Brian before dinner is even ordered?
“I mean it, siren. Things are changing for the better.” Mace holds my hand in his, pulling me closer, head tipping down. I’m somewhere between wanting to beg for his lips and pray that he lets me go. One thing that’s for sure after tonight: I’ll definitely need a drink, some extensive girl talk, therapy, or all of the above.
“Don’t get my hopes up, Mace.” His lips land on my cheek, kissing me softly, slowly breaking my heart yet putting it back together all in the same breath.
“I’m not letting you go. Never should have in the first place. Go take care of Brian. I’ll wait here for you.” I nod, unable to force the words out, spin around, and take a deep breath. Getting ready to ruin someone else’s night does not make me feel good about myself, but inadvertently giving myself bad karma is now inevitable.
“I take it you’re not staying for dinner?” Brian asks me once I’m in reaching distance.
“I’m sorry. Honestly, there’s a lot of unfinished business with my ex-husband, and agreeing to this date wasn’t something I should have done to you. I’m still pretty much hopelessly in love with the big oaf. I hope you find a woman, Brian, truly. I know we didn’t spend much time together, but the right person is out there for you; it’s just not me.” I hug him lightly, pulling away as fast as it came. With the way my luck is going lately, Mace will charge his big body over here, acting like he owns me, and will stake his claim. The worst about this whole situation is, he does own me, each and every piece of my heart, body, and soul.
“The way he looks at you, Tyra, I’d say the feeling is entirely mutual. No hard feelings. I’m going to stick around, have a steak and another one of these, then call it a night. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Brian responds. He’s one of the good guys, the kind that doesn’t fuck up, probably has a normal job at a bank, working nine to five, home every night by five thirty, a man I thought would be a good idea. I’m not destined for that. It seems I have an affliction for a tattooed, rough-shaven lawyer.
“Thank you. Can I at least pay for your meal?” I offer, trying to make things right.
“No, not at all. Go back to him. He looks about ready to pounce any moment, and while I’m nice, fighting isn’t for me, not over a woman who’s clearly taken.” See what I mean? Good guy.
“Alright. Well, maybe I’ll see you around.”
“I doubt that. Have a good night.” Brian turns around in his seat. The conversation is over, and I need to get back to Mace.
SIX
Mace
I sawthe way Tyra let Brian down easily, then he dismissed her. I’m thankful in one respect and pissed in the other. Fucking idiot never stood a chance with a siren like her, with her dark brown hair that she used to complain about in the earlier days, threatening to change it. I loved her hair just the way it was, naturally all one color even after being in the sun all day. I threatened to spank her ass if she dyed it because of what society thought was the in the to-do. Her eyes darkened, showing me the hunger the thought of smacking her peach-shaped ass ignited. She also quit talking about changing herself. Those green eyes with golden flecks interspersed lock with mine. Knowing how they shimmer in the throes of her coming on my cock, the softness in her face as she watches me fuck my cum into her, I clench my jaw. It’s been so long, too fucking long since I’ve been connected to my siren.
“Alright, now where to?” Tyra asks as she makes her way back to me, a soft sway in her hips. I take in her dress, the thin straps going over her shoulders, the fabric tight in the chest and stomach area before it bellows out. That’s not what has me completely captivated. It’s the way Tyra walks—it’s a sirens song. And the leg that slips out of the cream and floral fabric that’s wrapped around her body like I’d loved to be has me weak in the fucking knees. Skin that I know is creamy and soft. If I know Tyra, she’s only wearing some kind of built-in bra, never really needing a bra if she didn’t want to wear one. It’s the lace boy shorts I know she’s wearing that have my mouth salivating, wanting to grip her ass while allowing her to feel my hardness, knowing I could rip the flimsy excuse of fabric, unbutton my pants and lower my zipper before thrusting inside her tight wet cunt.
“My place,” I respond without thinking. Tyra takes a step back.
“Not happening. I’m not stepping foot in that ridiculously overly large house that broke us in more ways than one.”Fuck, fuck, fuck!I do not want to have this conversation in the midst of a restaurant on a busy Friday night. It wasn’t until Tyra and Von moved out that I realized just how lonely that house could be.
“I can’t say that I blame you. We’ll go for a walk instead,” I suggest. Her body sags in relief. At least there’s something I did right, selling that place, putting the profit in an account with both of our names. There was no way I was starting my law practice with the proceeds coming from a house that wrecked our entire foundation.
“That will work.” My hand glides to her lower back, meeting bare skin once again, the tips of my fingers pressing into Tyra’s skin. Feeling her muscles tense and knowing I’m the one who caused this just adds another mark in the list of fuck-ups. We make our way through the busy crowd, Tyra unconsciously moving closer towards me. At least something is going right tonight, for now at least. The second the automatic doors open, we’re assaulted by the city lights of the Vegas Strip—bright lights, loud sounds. This might not have been the best idea.
“I always did love walking along these streets once the sun went down. Most people born and raised here can’t stand to do something as inconsequential as people-watching.” Tyra’s what you call an old soul, loves watching a good black-and-white movie, has no qualms about my parents or her parents holding a Sunday night dinner, and while she may work once the day is over, everything stops surrounding her life as a massage therapist. The only thing she cares about is her friends and family.
“I remember.” Many a date night, we’d take in a show, have dinner, and this was her one request—to walk for an hour or so before ordering a car to head home, the real date night beginning then if Von was at his grandparents’ or with Celeste. That’s someone else I’ll have to apologize and thank profusely if things go my way tonight.
“Kind of hard to forget about something like that when you made it happen each and every time.” My hand leaves her lower back for the back of her arm, sliding down until our fingers touch. Either Tyra is so lost in the memories that she doesn’t realize that when our fingers lace, it’s her doing, or she’s ready to listen to what I have to say.
