A Broken Us (London Lover Series Book 1) (8 page)

“
Hiya
,” I repeat.

“Is it really you?”

“It’s really me.”

“You finally finished unpacking?”

“Pretty much,” I breathe out. “Do you like
skateboarding?”

“Love it. Do it all the time,” he answers.

“Seriously?” I ask, giggling nervously.

“No, I wouldn’t know the first fucking thing.
I’m an uncoordinated sod-all bastard who’d probably end up disabled for the
rest of my life if I ever tried.”

I laugh. It feels good to laugh. “Do you like
watching skateboarding?”

“Never tried that either. Sounds scary.”

“I can protect you.”

“Where are you?”

Within thirty minutes, Liam comes walking
around the corner. He’s looking delicious in a trendy cowl neck cotton grey
shirt and jeans. His blonde hair looks softer than last time and it’s draped
loosely to one side. He has a slight blonde five o’clock shadow that makes me
want to cuddle up in bed with him all day.

“
Hiya
you,” he says
as he approaches.

“
Hiya
you, back,” I
reply, shooting him awkward finger guns and clicking my cheeks twice. I love
how the English say
Hiya
instead of just
Hi
.

He laughs and sidles up next to me on the metal
bleacher, peering into my coffee mug tucked tightly between my hands.

“What
ya
got there?”

My eyes turn wide and the edges of my mouth
turn down. “A little something I like to call
Lemon Daydreamer’s Delight
,” I click my cheeks two more times.
Okay, I have to stop clicking my damn
cheeks.

I reach over to the other side of me and pull
out another mug I ran in to get before he arrived.

“I have one for you!” I sing out, merrily.

“Well, alright then! Now it’s a party!” he
exclaims.

I carefully pour the clear liquid into his mug,
trying my hardest not to spill. Before I hand it over, I eye him speculatively,
“Aren’t you worried I
roofied
—
hiccup
—
roofied
it?”

“Did you
roofie
it?”
he asks, dropping his chin and eyeing me carefully.

“If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you!
How could I rape you and sell you into human-trafficking if you don’t drink
this sweet, sweet,
sweeeeet
nectar?” I reply, sing-
songing
the last bit.

“I’ll take my chances,” he says, grabbing the
extra mug from my hands and taking a sip. He nods approvingly and looks out at
the skateboarders.

“Don’t you have a job you should be at or
something?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“Eh, working is for the birds,” he says,
sarcastically.

“Seriously, what do you do?” I ask him again,
tucking my hair behind both of my ears, eyeing him curiously.

He turns to me and does
that thing
again. That mouth glance thing.
God, I hate that.
Okay, I freaking love it, but I hate what it does
to my insides.

“Honestly,” he begins, “I’m the operations
controller for a medical supply company. It’s pretty dull. A glorified
inventory taker, but the pay is decent.”

“And don’t you have work to work at today?” I
frown at my phrasing choice.

“Yes,” he replies, fidgeting in his seat.

“So, how is it possible for you to drop what
you were doing to come here and watch skateboarders with me?”

He shrugs his shoulders and continues watching
the skaters, avoiding my question.

I stare at him until he looks at me. I raise my
eyebrows, “Well?”

“I blew off work to come here,” he replies.
“It’s not a big deal, I was almost done for the day. They won’t even know I’m
gone.”

I look at him and drop my jaw, nodding my head
as I take another drink of my
Lemon
Dreaming Sunshine
, or is it
Delight
Dreaming
? What did I decide to call it? Shit! A fabulous liquid deserves a
fabulous name. I wonder what Mitch calls it? He’s a scary dude, but how can he
be so mean and scary and then give me such a liquid deliciousness dream? Yes,
dream
must have been one of the words in
my name for the booze.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam interrupts
my thoughts.

“Oh, you know, really important, profound
thoughts,” I reply, sipping more of my drink as he sips his.

“What made you decide to call?” he asks.

“I just thought I needed to stop unpacking
already. Everybody else seems to be done unpacking. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Good point. I fully agree. Anytime you need to
stop unpacking, you feel very free to call me,” he smiles into his mug before
taking another sip. “So, what is it that you do that allows you to drink Lemon
Daydreamer’s Delight in the middle of the day while watching skateboarder’s
impale themselves on poles?”
 

Lemon
Daydreamer’s Delight! God, that’s a great name for this drink! Why didn’t I
think of that?

“I am currently on a leave of absence from my
job back in the States, but I’m still doing some freelance for my company while
I’m here, so I have some income coming in.”

“What kind of freelance?” he inquires.

“Writing stuff mostly, for advertising and marketing-type
things. It’s fun. I get to meet different people and work on different projects
all the time, but I just want to get out and discover a different world, ye
know?” I stand on the bleacher our feet were resting on and stretch.

“You know you’re still in the same world, don’t
you?” he pushes out his lips, playfully.

Ignoring his snide remark, I reply, “I like it
here so far. Way, way,
waaaay
better than back home.”

“I like it here, too,” Liam says, looking at me
as I hop off the bleacher and sit on the lower level. I twirl myself around and
face him. His eyes lock onto my mouth.

“You have to stop doing that!” I exclaim,
looking away from him.

“Doing what?” he asks, smiling thoughtfully.

“That thing you do with your eyes, where you
look at my mouth like you’re trying to decide if you should kiss me or not,” I
state, brazenly. Good Lord, I’m not holding anything back this afternoon.
Thank-you-very-much, Lemon Dreamy Delish.

“I wasn’t even aware I was doing it,” he says
as he sets his mug down next to him and uses his arms to scoot himself down to
my level.

Facing backwards while he is facing forwards,
our mouths are dangerously close together. His eyes continue to dance between
my eyes and my mouth.

 
“It
does serious things to my under-carriage,” I breathe onto his face.

He laughs, hard. “Did you just say
under-carriage
? Oh my word! That’s a
first. That’s a true and definite first,” he continues laughing hard and I look
away, not the least bit embarrassed.
Lemon
Days’ Drink
makes me buoyant, apparently.

He composes himself as I continue to watch him
thoughtfully. “Well,” he says, “So far, I just love hearing what comes out of
your mouth, I guess.” He looks down and smirks. “It always seems to surprise
me,” he finishes, tucking a piece of my brown hair behind my ear.

It tickles and I reflexively turn my face into
his hand. He takes the opportunity to stroke the backs of his fingers down my
cheek and over my lips. His eyes are locked on my mouth as my lips part
slightly and his face grows serious.

Before I can break my trance with this
beautiful Brit’s face, he kisses me. Softly at first, then he tilts his head
and
really
kisses me. As he’s kissing
me, I just keep picturing his eyes looking at my mouth. I love it. It makes me
feel desired. His hands slide from my face down my shoulders and he grasps my
arms on either side. I feel the tickling of his whiskers on my mouth and smile
slightly around his kiss in response.

When he presses his tongue into my mouth, I
taste the lemon drink and shiver at the delicious aroma. Before I lose my head
completely, I push my hands against his chest and pull back. His eyes flutter
open and waver between my eyes and my mouth. We continue touching each other as
our breathing slows.

“That’s definitely packing more in when I just
finally got unpacked,” I say, looking down at my hands, still on his firm
chest.

“Maybe you won’t have to unpack again?” he
questions, gently rubbing my arms with his warm hands.

“I don’t know what’s packed and what’s not packed
anymore,” I reply, pulling away from him and turning around to look back at the
skaters for distraction.

“Have dinner with me,” he says, in a rush,
looking at me earnestly while I continue to look away.

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. You fancy me, I fancy you. What’s
not to know?” he questions.

“It’s so much more complicated than that.”

“It’s not, though. It’s incredibly simple.
Dinner, drinks? Anything.”

That kiss was good. It was damn good. It wasn’t
Brody, but it sure made me feel like a woman again. And speaking of Brody and
women, he was off doing God knows what with
Bitchy
Bitcherson
Old Balls Olivia
. Why am I feeling so
damn guilty about considering Liam?

“Do you know what a, um,
tarts and vicars
party is?” I ask him.

He smiles sweetly at me and leans back on the
bleachers with his arms draped out wide. “I’ve heard of the theme, yes.”

“What is it? Frank won’t tell me and made me
promise not to look it up online! He said he’s taking care of my costume and
all I have to do is show up!”

Liam laughs softly and says, “Far be it for me
to reveal Frank’s surprise.”

“I’m so mad at myself for not knowing! I’ve
read tons of British Chick-Lit novels and I’ve never come across it!”

“Did you never read Bridget Jones’ Diary?” he
asks.

A light turns on as the memory comes flooding
back into my brain.

“Oh God,” I groan, and Liam laughs softly. I
drop my head and cover my eyes.

“When is this party?” he asks.

“Day after tomorrow,” I reply, scowling at the
realization that Frank is going to make me look like a huge skank or an ugly
priest.

He nods.

“You could come if you want,” I offer him. “I
almost regret bringing it up to you now because Lord knows what Frank is going
to dress me in…but screw it, I don’t care. You can come if it sounds like
something you want to do.”

He nods his head thoughtfully with the side of
his mouth turned up. I know I’m not offering him a date like he wants, but this
is the best I can do for now. A social setting seems much safer than an
official date. I know Brody is off being a disgusting puke and hanging out with
Oldie Olivia
, but jeez. I went from
trying to have a baby with someone to dating again. I need to tread lightly.

“Should I be a tart or a vicar?” he asks.

“How the hell should I know? I just figured out
what this whole damn theme is,” I reply, sullenly. “Frank is going to make me
look like a fool,” I pout.

Liam tips my chin up, “Impossible. Cheer up
now, I think the party sounds fun. What time?”

“Frank said no proper London party starts
before 11, so I guess anytime after that.”

“I’ll be there.” He stands up to leave and
starts to walk away, then stops, turns around and comes back. He bends down
quickly and presses his lips to mine, leaning me back onto the bleacher. Once
the shock wears off and my lips relax, he widens his kiss, shooting flutters up
and down my entire body.

He pulls away, but before standing up straight,
he whispers in my ear, “I hope your under-carriage remembers that until the
party, Finley.”

What have
I got myself in to?

Brody kneels beside my mattress and gently
strokes my cheek to rouse me awake. I purr with pleasure at the familiar
feeling of his hands on my face.

“Finley,” he breathes on my face, “I’ve missed
you so incredibly much.” He groans as he leans in, whispering in my ear, “You
have no idea how much I dream about you just like this.” He keeps his cheek
next to mine as he slowly pulls the lavender bed sheet down my body.

I follow his eyes as he peruses my body and am
surprised to see I’m completely naked. I don’t even remember going to bed last
night.

“Finley,” Brody sighs my name like I’m his most
cherished possession.

“Brody?” I question, still trying to figure out
how he is even here right now, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores my question and begins dropping
small, incredibly light kisses on the mounds of my breasts. A memorable
stirring begins in my groin as my mind and body decide which it wants
first—answers or pleasure.

He takes my nipple into his mouth and
sucks—hard. Pleasure wins. Oh yes, pleasure definitely wins.

I let out a small gasp at the sudden pressure
around my nipple as he drags his teeth gently over the hard nub. “Brody!” I
cry, torn between loving what he is doing, and being terrified of the pain.

“Finley,” he replies, “Don’t worry, I would
never hurt you.” He looks at my face so lovingly, I could cry. I see tiny
flickers of light shimmering in his dark blue eyes from the security light
streaming in through my lace curtains.

He leans down and kisses me, deeply. He presses
his tongue so far into my mouth that I can’t even kiss back. It feels like he
is doing with his tongue what he wants to do with other parts of his body, and
it is
hot.

My hips twist to the side and rise off the
mattress to press into him as he remains kneeling. He shoves his hands behind
my back and continues attacking me with his mouth as his arms engulf me in a
bear hug. It feels like he can’t get close enough to me.

I slide my leg down to the floor in an attempt
to wrap myself around him. He gets the memo and pulls back slightly to allow my
legs to open to him. Spread out directly in front of him, I’m feeling entirely
exposed while he is still fully clothed. It feels odd, so I grab the bottom of
his shirt and pull it over his head.

His chest looks so good. So incredibly yummy,
just the way I remember it. His creamy skin glows in the darkness and his chest
is covered in short curly hair. I stroke the hair and move my fingers downward,
to the path that grows from his navel to below his jeans; I relish in the
memories of that familiar trail.

He hugs me again, kissing me fiercely. The skin
on skin contact makes me instantly aroused. He keeps flipping his head from
side to side, alternating his kissing angles like he can’t get enough of me.
His lips travel down my jaw to my shoulder. He gently bites down on my shoulder
and I gasp in pleasure-filled pain. Then he sucks that spot, hard. He is
marking me and I don’t even care. It feels so incredibly hot.

His right hand moves from behind my back and
strokes along my side. I flinch as he hits a well-known ticklish spot; he looks
at me, smiling. Brody loves how ticklish I am on my sides.

His fingers find my wet center and begin
working their magic.

I moan loudly in pure delight at the building
pleasure inside my body. Brody groans back in response and continues filling me
with his fingers.

“Brody!” I cry, breathing quicker as his
fingers become more relentless. “Brody! I can’t…I don’t understand! What’s
going on?”

“
Shhhhhh
baby,” he
hushes me as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the button on his pants.

He stands quickly and kicks himself out of his
jeans. I help him pull them down and lie back, still distraught from being so
incredibly close to release, and confused as to why he is here in
London—in my bedroom—in the middle of the night.

Brody climbs on top of me, fashioning himself
between my legs. In one strong swoop, he enters me and we both keen loudly with
pleasure.
 

“Brody! I’ve missed you so much,” I say, tears
filling my eyes as he finds a good rhythm. I run my fingernails up and down his
back as he works tirelessly for both of us.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replies, cupping my
breasts with his large hands, “But I can’t stay long.”

“Why?” I moan out, getting closer and closer to
climax.
 

“Olivia is due soon.”

My hands drop as the crushing name echoes in
the room.

“What did you just say?” I ask, clearly
confused because there was no way in hell Brody just said Olivia’s name while
he is rocking inside of me.

He looks at me and cocks his head to the side,
“I said, Olivia is due soon. With the baby.”

I quickly push him off of me and scramble to
the very edge of the mattress, pulling my legs up to my chest and squeezing.

“What the
fuck
,
Brody?” I ask, trying to calm my libido enough to be angry.

“I thought this was what you wanted?” he
replies, looking confused.

I push my hair out of my face and scream,
“She’s having your baby? That is most definitely
not
what I wanted, Brody!”

Brody sits back on his haunches and scratches
his short curly hair, “She’s having
our
baby, Finley. You know this. Why are you acting so strange?”

What the
hell is going on? What kind of sick joke is this?

“This doesn’t make any sense!” I scream,
rubbing my hair like a mad woman.

“Maybe she’s still making up her mind, mate,”
Liam announces, in his cool British dialect.

I swerve my head over to where his voice came
from and see him standing there, fully dressed, arms crossed and leaning one
shoulder on the frame of the door.

“Liam! How the hell did you get in here?” I
ask, completely confused.

“Chill, Fin, it’s
us
!” Brody replies, as if that answer would tell me everything.

Liam saunters over to the mattress and squats
down beside it. “Yeah, it’s
us.
” He
smiles, knowingly. “How’s your under-carriage feeling, Finley?”

***

I awaken to the loud
crack
of a skateboard hitting concrete outside my window, and
several teenage boys’ voices whooping in response.

I blink my eyes quickly, looking around the
room, trying to figure out what just happened. Bright daylight fills the entire
room and I glance at the clock to see that it’s noon already. I peek under the
covers to see that I
am
naked.
Holy shit! Why am I naked?
I throw my
legs to the side of the mattress and sit up quickly, my head screaming in
protest at the change in angle. Oh God, my head. My head!

I can feel myself still aroused. I move
slightly, to see if I can tell if I really had sex or not. Everything feels the
same—I think. I rub my shoulder where I can still feel Brody’s teeth, but
there is no mark from him biting and sucking.
 

“Oh my God, it was just a dream,” I say to
myself as I take a huge gulp of air and sigh with relief. My eyes suddenly fill
with tears and I let out a huge sob.
God,
what the fuck is wrong with me?
That was the most fucked up dream ever. I
pull the sheet tightly around my chest and stand up, unsure why all these tears
are coming out.

I wrench my bedroom door open and dash over to
the tiny bathroom. Just seeing the toilet, I begin gagging. I drop down to my
knees and throw up the contents of my stomach, crying pathetically between
heaves. I hate throwing up. I cry every time I throw up, and since I was
already crying before I started puking, now I am really losing it.

“Morning, moron!” Leslie sings from the
bathroom doorway.

I look at her from the corner of my eye and see
she is dressed in a pair of red shorts and a black button-down blouse, buttoned
all the way to the top with a triangle-shaped spikey necklace.

I dry heave two more times and breathe heavily,
waiting for my stomach to calm down. “Screw you,
Lez
,”
I spit out between gulps of air.

“Believe me, I’d love to screw myself, I’m
happy with what I see in the mirror every day. But I’m not sure you’re feeling
the same self-love these days,” she says, checking herself out in the mirror.
“You seem to be in the middle of a quarter-life crisis or something. I’m too
good of a friend to just leave you hanging, Fin!”

I fall backward onto my butt, roughly hitting
my back on the wall behind me. I use one hand to tighten the purple sheet
around my chest and the other to wipe my runny nose and tears. I turn to
Leslie; she looks so clean and put together, it depresses me further. What the
hell is wrong with me right now? My chin begins to tremble.

“Jeez, Fin,” Leslie says, sitting against the
wall beside me. “What’s with the tears?” she asks, concern all over her green
eyes.

“I don’t know,” I croak. “I just had the most
horrible dream, I’m hung over, I just puked, and I have no clue what the hell
I’m doing anymore. I just—I don’t know!” I cry, curling my legs up to my
chest and burying my face in my arms.

Leslie’s small arm wraps tightly around my back
and she leans her head against my shoulder. “You always cry when you puke, Fin-Bin.
It’s fine. It’s no big deal. You’re probably still drunk. And contrary to
popular belief, alcohol is actually a depressant, so you’re not going to feel
happier by drinking it, ye know.”

I sniff loudly, “I know, but there’s more to it
than the alcohol and the puking. I just had a dream about Brody. It was a good
dream…amazing even. But then it all went so fucked up and… dark.” My voice
rises to a squeak and I sob heavily into my arms.

“Are you sure being here is what you really
want, Finley?” she asks, turning her head to face me, and resting her chin on
my shoulder. “I mean, I want you here forever. I love having you here. But is
this what’s best for you and Brody?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I can’t change things now.
It’s too late,
Lez
. Brody’s seeing Olivia now,
anyway.”

“Olivia?” Leslie questions.

“College Olivia, the one you called old.
Remember?”

“Ick!
Oldie
Oli
’
? Gross! Why would he be with her? She looked
wrinkly back in college, she’s got to look like a grandmother by now!” Leslie
replies with disgust smeared across her face.

Leslie and I didn’t attend the same university
but visited each other as frequently as we could. When she met Olivia for the
first time, Leslie asked me how old she was because she thought Olivia looked
like an
alternative student
in her
thirties. I can always count on
Lez
to tell it like
it is.

I smirk slightly at her bashing of a woman I
truly hate.

“There’s pictures of them all over
Facebook
,” I offer meekly.

“I thought you deactivated your
Facebook
account, Fin!”

“I reactivated it,” I reply, shrugging my
shoulders.

“Well there’s your first mistake,” she sighs
dramatically. “What’s really going on, Finley? Talk to me. This isn’t you. You
used to tell me everything. Even the cracks, remember?”

I smile to myself. Leslie and I used to say
that to each other in high school when we were going through whatever
sophomoric drama was happening at the time. “Empty out your brain, even the
cracks.” It is so nice having someone know all my deepest, darkest secrets. Brody
used to be that person for me. I told him everything. And now I’m keeping the
worst kind of secret I can from him.

“You know how when I was a kid, I used to love
babies so much? I always snuggled up with your little brother; he just had the
sweetest
wittle
gushy face...” I begin.

She lifts her head from my shoulder and looks
at me cheerily, “Yeah, I remember. Of course I remember. Mom used to be afraid
that you’d baby-snatch him.”

I smile, “I can’t get over the idea that my
body won’t ever give me something like that. It won’t do what it’s supposed to
do and I can’t change it! I can’t fix it! Women are supposed to reproduce, make
babies, be domestic, and live
happily
ever after
. It’s the next step for most people. It’s for sure always been
the next step for me. It
kills
me
that I can’t do it. I feel…I feel…ashamed!” I cry. I know I look and sound
terrible right now but I don’t care. This is Leslie; she can handle my ugly
cry.

“There are other options, Finley,” she offers.

“Not for Brody and me,
Lez
.
It’s Brody.
It’s Brody
!” I groan,
holding onto my chest, not knowing how to release the ache thumping inside of
it. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Leslie. A family. A forever. And when I found
Brody, I thought the hard part of my life was over. I thought I’d been found!
He was so incredible.
Is
so
incredible. To think of delivering this news to him—this earth
shattering, heart breaking, world-ending news—and watch him fall out of
love with me,” I bawl, “It’s too much, Leslie. It’s too much.” I shake my head,
my chin trembling wildly.