Ending with Forever (24 page)

I
don’t know if I can handle another restless night sleeping next to Carson without having my way with him. I’m so horny that it’d just take a few dirty words from his sexy, smoldering mouth to make me come. My desperation persuades my fingers to find their way down to my deprived ball of nerves to satisfy the ache between my legs. My eyes remain sealed, picturing Carson pleasuring me in every possible way. It’s sensitively raw and welcoming. Minutes later I hear myself panting and relishing the sensation encouraged by my own doing. “Ah,” I continue to moan, biting down on my lower lip as my hips writhe under the sheets. Gently, my hands are secured together on my abdomen, ending my rising heat. I’m mortified when I open my eyes to see that Carson is still in bed with me.

My thighs are spread vulgarly apart, secured in place with his forearm. “Let me finish you off,” he whispers into my mound and flicks his hot tongue over and over the swelling tip of my clit. I throw my head side to side, holding in my cries. He’s relentless, delving and licking. “Release it, baby. Let me hear what I’m doing to you,” he urges. I groan without shame, loudly and fiercely, running my fevered fingers through his hair. My trembling hips buckle, allowing the ripping sensation of my orgasm to course through my entire body. I release one last indulgent scream and let my tension dissipate, filtering through my limbs and then my fingers and toes. Carson satisfied my long week of craving in less than ten minutes. He’s freaking amazing.

Lifting my sapped head to capture his lidded eyes, I exhale, “Thanks,” and then let it fall back into its nestling place.

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.” His dimple grin warms my heart instantly. “Even if it’s fucking sexy to see you touch yourself.”

“I’m embarrassed. I don’t know what came over me,” I confess, still steadying my breathing and clinging on to that last delicious buzz of my orgasm.

“Don’t be, angel. I don’t want you to hold anything back,” he convinces. “It should be an open book between us. I want you to share everything with me.”

“Everything? You might not like everything you hear from me,” I kid.

“Yes. Everything,” he repeats. Rising to his knees and hovering over me, he presses his soft lips on mine and then places tiny kisses on my belly before hopping out of bed.

“Is it that time already?” I whine. “Time for you to leave me?”

“I’m afraid so, baby, but the good news is you’re no longer confined to the penthouse. You’re free to go as you please, within reason, of course, and with Luke in the background.”

“Really?” I ask and pace excitedly out of bed to join him in the shower. I’m
free
like the wind.

~~~~

I rush Carson out the front door with a piece of toast, his briefcase, and no coffee because he had spent too much time making me happy in the shower. I don’t want to be the reason for his third or fourth tardy at work. His boss would not be happy with me. “Bye,
honey
.” I try that word on for size again and it’s not so bad. “I’ll see you this evening. Have a great day at work. Love you,” I holler in the hallway, tossing him an air kiss.

“Love you, too, angel,” he hollers back with a wide grin that spans from cheek to cheek and then disappears into the elevator.

As soon as the front door is closed, Luke appears stealthily in his corner. This is our first encounter since I knocked him out. “Um…good morning, Luke,” I stammer, hunching slightly.

“Morning,” he replies rigidly, sitting with his shoulders squared and feet planted solid with dark glasses over his eyes, concealing a quarter of his face.

“I…I’m sorry about last week. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I feel terrible about it.”

“What’s done is done. Let it go,” he tells me impassively.
He hates me.
My stupid stunt ruined whatever little friendship we had.

“Okay, thanks,” I reply and walk away dragging my feet with my head slumped to the floor feeling crappier than I felt before I talked to him.

He stops me. “Lily, you gave us one hell of a scare. I’m thankful you’re okay,” he discloses.
He doesn’t hate me after all
. “In my eighteen years of military service, no one has ever been able to successfully take me down until last week,” he adds with a visible grin. “I’d say that’s an impressive accomplishment.”

With a pursed smile, I tell him, “I swear it’ll never happen again.”

“Trust me. It won’t,” he declares, tracing his squinted eyes to mine and back to his with his index and middle finger. “I’m on to you. No more delicious smoothies for me,” he chuckles, making me laugh out loud with him. The tension between is quickly thawed, making me believe we’re tight again.

“No more bad smoothies. I promise. How’s your father?”

“He’s better. Thanks for asking,” he answers concisely but with a subtle tenderness only discernable to me.

“No problem. After I have my morning tea, I’d like to visit Gabby at the hospital if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. That won’t be a problem,” he answers, switching back to his unsmiling bodyguard mode.

As much as I hate Jean’s tea, I brew myself a steamy cup and chug it down as quickly as I could tolerate the heat because I know it’ll keep the nausea away. I talk myself out of gagging several times and then finish the remaining bitter black liquid.

Wasting no time after my quick breakfast of toast with butter and apricot jam, I rush into the bedroom to change out of my pajamas. Sifting through the drawers on my side of the closet, I pull out a loose pair of frayed denim and a pink t-shirt that still has a price tag of seventy-five dollars on it. Wow. That’s ridiculous to pay that much for a plain old t-shirt. Prior to Carson, I never owned any clothing item that costed more than twenty bucks. In fact, most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from Belle and Emi and I never minded at all. They went through their wardrobes and shoes as often as their parents would spoil them—that was practically every weekend almost. I had more clothes from them than my closet could handle. Slipping into my jeans and shirt, I catch my side profile in the wall-length mirror. Scrutinizing, my eyeballs move to and fro to see if I can distinguish a baby bump, but it’s not obvious yet. Why am I so anxious about having a big belly? Soon, I’ll be as large as a blimp and swollen from head to toe with twins. I should enjoy my little body while I still can.

~~~~

Rollin drops us off at BGH Cancer Center where Gabby’s a patient. On the way, I picked up a darling fleece hat at a children’s boutique to keep her hairless head warm. It has short, fluffy, white ears and round owl eyes with long lashes that scream Gabby. She’s going to love it. Standing in front of the glass and brownstone high-rise building, I take a minute to appreciate the impressive fusion of old and modern architectural design. The multicolor glass dome over the main entrance filters natural white light into vibrant orange, green, blue, red, yellow, and purple color beams. It’s mesmerizing and a clever way to temporarily distract an ailing person’s mind from their sickness. The expansive lobby with signs and arrows pointing in all directions overwhelms me. Thankfully, a helpful receptionist greets my confused expression and offers me precise directions to Gabby’s room. I’m anxious to see her angelic little face and hear her tender voice that’s always full of life. Jane mentioned several times that Gabby’s been asking for me. I told her to keep my visit on the down-low so she can be really surprised when she sees me.

After a wrong turn to medical oncology and passing several pint-sized cuties roaming the hallway with their IV poles and baby blankets, I finally make it to Gabby’s room. My heart could barely keep it together, seeing all those ill children with pale skin and lethargic expressions in one place. The despair that weighs on their parents’ hearts and minds is beyond my imagination. It hurts just trying.
Lil, get a hold of yourself. Be a pillar of strength.
I remind myself and a forced smile appears.

The door is ajar enough for me to enter, but I knock twice out of respect and then listen for a response. “Come in,” Jane calls.

I slip inside without opening the door more than I need. The room is dim with soft, lulling music playing in the background. Stuffed animals of various sizes align a ledge by the window. I keep my inhales shallow because the unpleasant hospital smell is almost intolerable to my nose. I’m thankful I drank Jean’s tea before coming here or I’d make a disgrace of myself in Gabby’s bathroom. Encircled by pillows, her tiny body looks even smaller lying in an oversized twin hospital bed with two layers of blankets. She’s sleeping peacefully with her arms wrapped around my songbird, oblivious to the beeping noise of the monitors and IV pumps. Jane spots me first, waving her hand to greet.

“Good morning, Jane,” I whisper so I don’t wake Gabby. Leaning down to Jane’s tired, gaunt frame, I give her a small squeeze.

“Hi Lucy,” she replies, hugging me back with a sweet grin.
Argh! It’s that name again
. “She just fell asleep a few minutes ago.” Jane’s eyes sweep back to Gabby’s restful face, watching her tenderly.

“That’s okay. I’ll stop by again. I just wanted to see how she’s doing. Can I leave this hat for her?” I hand Jane a pink gift bag and then sidestep closer to Gabby’s bed. I stroke her baby hand with the back of my fingers. It’s soft and warm. She’s the most perfect little cherub.

“Yes, of course. She’ll be really upset that she missed you.”

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” I tell Jane, hiding the disappointment in my voice as I make my way for the door not wanting to take away Jane’s down time while Gabby’s napping.

Reaching for my hand and holding me in place she asks, “Lucy, can I have a word with you?”

“Yeah. Sure. What is it?”

“There’s a small family room we can chat in,” she tells me and leads us down the hallway.

“Is the drug not working for Gabby?” I ask, terribly concerned before we get to our destination.

“No. She’s responding very well. This isn’t about Gabby,” she assures me and points to a small room with a loveseat, two armchairs, and a large bookcase with children’s books.
Thank goodness
. She gave me a fright.

“Then what is it?”

I sense something disheartening coming my way. There’s pain in her wary expression. She exhales a troubled sigh before she begins to speak. “It’s Francine. Her cancer has spread to her spine. She’s suffering badly,” she cries. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell you or Mr. Bradley, but it’s killing me to see her hurt so badly.”

With a soothing arm, I rest it over her quivering shoulders. “Take a breath,” I encourage. “Why doesn’t she want you to tell me or Mr. Bradley?” There’s hesitation in her sodden eyes. She wants to reveal her secret but her loyalty to her friend makes her reconsider. “Go on,” I insist, curious as hell.

“I enlisted her name for a clinical trial similar to Gabby’s but she doesn’t know anything about it,” she admits.

“I know. Coincidentally, I just received her file yesterday. Car…Mr. Bradley is reviewing it.”

“Oh my God. That’s wonderful,” she rejoices, wiping her tears away with the back of her hands. “There’s hope for her.”

“Why is she being so secretive about her cancer?” I ask again, dying to understand Francine’s illogical reasoning. “We’d be more than willing to help her.”

“She has her reasons,” Jane mutters.

“You know them, don’t you?” I accuse. She nods in response. “Please tell me then.”

“I’ll share what I can, but it’s up to Francine to tell you the rest. She’s also here as a patient at this hospital.”

“She is? But I thought she went home to Indiana.”

“Her son flew her back to Boston.”

“Which son? Is he one of the twins?” I blurt the first thought that came to mind.

“How…do you know she has twins?” Jane appears stunned from my comment.

“I deduced it from the information I read from her chart and what she told me when we met last time.”

“His name is Wes Montgomery. She gave him and his brother up for adoption. Wes came searching for Francine about two weeks ago.”

Shit! Did she just say Wes Montgomery? That guy keeps popping up everywhere. He’s the common link to everyone. No wonder Francine acted so oddly when she first met us. Did she know his family is Carson’s opponent, the one who kidnapped his researchers? She couldn’t have possibly known. That was privy information. His father, Chandler Montgomery, is the asshole who schemed with Bianca and Edison to capture me, and I was the idiot who made their job so easy. Oh my God! I think Edison mentioned something about a niece. Shit! What did he say? I blacked out right around that time. Everything from that day is still a blur to me, but the scars that Bianca carved into my flesh will never let me forget how terrified and close to death I came.
I can’t seem to stop the incessant rambling in my head.

“They must’ve had a warm reception if he brought her here to care for her. Am I right?” I pry while the back of my mind continues to piece this confusion together.

That’s right. Wes isn’t a real Montgomery. Andrew mentioned awhile back that he’s Chandler’s adopted son. He also told me Bridgette and Wes are or were lovers. Why was Bridgette at Kat’s house and why was Carson okay with that? Nothing is adding up for me.