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That’s a truth bomb, and it drops close to my heart. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Look, I buried my parents. I buried my first husband, and I’ve been through some shit. Life can hurt like hell, but you survive because love makes it worth it. And you find it again. In the craziest ways, trust me.”
“I trust you more than anyone.”
“Besides, you’re so hot. Who’s to say you won’t break their hearts?”
“You think I’m hot?” That stirs my cock, I can’t help it.
“And I think you’re smart, and sweet and sexy too, and we’re all lucky to have you.”
“Quit flirting, or I’ll tell Daniel.”
“Please do,” she laughs. “Then I’ll get fucked hard tonight. He’s treating me like a porcelain doll lately, and it’s driving me nuts.”
“Why?” And why does she put that image in my head? Charlie getting fucked hard by Daniel Pierce. I want tickets for that show. And to join in. “Wait a minute.” It hits me. “You’re pregnant again, aren’t you?”
“It’s early, so don’t tell anyone, okay.”
“I won’t, and congratulations. Y’all are gonna have a mess of kids.”
“No, we can have a few kids and a million fucks. That’s what I signed up for.”
A cry storms the background, and she turns her head and signs something. “Are you hungry?” she asks her son. “Hey,”—she turns back to me—“I gotta go.”
“Thanks for the chat.”
“Thanks for your big heart. Someone will cherish it one day, I promise. I know I do.”
“Love you, Charlie Girl.”
“Love you too, little shit. Call again soon.” Her fingertip ends our chat, and I sit back up, taking it all in.
Charlie’s pregnant, and life is great with Daniel. That’s good.
Cade wants to be alone, and Redix has his hands full with another woman. That’s not.
And there’s shit-all I can do about any of it.
The tennis ball on my nightstand calls my hand to toss it. I do this every night. It drives Quincy batshit hearing the ball bounce off the wall and pissing him off is fun.
But this isn’t. Because the dust settles in my heart about what Charlie said—I don’t love hard because I’m afraid of getting hurt again.
Why does God keep making women so damn right?
I must’ve fallen asleep because my lamp’s still on and the tennis ball’s in my hand when a gentle knock raps on my door.
That’s not Quincy’s bang.
Rubbing the sleep off my face, I hope it’s her. It sounds like her. Or maybe this is just an amazing dream.
When I pull the door open, it’s not. I’m wide awake, and Cade’s standing on my porch in a tiny white dress. My eyes swear her legs go for miles, and her tits are the perfect stopping point. Her eyes drop to my body in only boxer briefs, and whatever she was gonna say fails her because her jaw drops too.
“Wanna come in?” It’s obvious.
“Can we?” Her smile is tentative.
We?
