KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (25 page)

Michael

“D
O YOU THINK HE’LL BE
talking on that thing all day?” I hear my mother ask Lucy as she stands next to her at the stove.

I haven’t been listening to what Corbin’s been trying to tell me since he called. Instead, my concentration hasn’t moved once from Lucy and the way she’s fluently been moving around my mother’s kitchen. It’s practiced, natural. Needless to say, she and my mother haven’t stopped talking since their first cup of coffee.

As I sit at the kitchen table, Lucy’s gaze moves in my direction. She scowls first, then her expression morphs to mischief. She smiles at my mom before she starts to tattle. “He told me he was taking the day off.”

Surprised by Lucy’s declaration, my mother lifts her eyebrows in shock. “Michael hasn’t taken a day off in… Well, I don’t know how long.”

“Mike, are you listening to any of this?” Corbin snaps in my ear.

My attention jumps to the table as I clutch the pen in my hand. “I’m here.”

Corbin spews, this time with impatience, “Margret Monroe is a bitch. Jane’s ready to go with this, so we gotta tell Lucy we know what’s up.”

“No,” I bark before raising my head to my mother. She’s frowning at my warning tone. “Leave it for now. I’ll call you later.”

Pulling me from my frustration, Corbin asks, “How’s home?”

Hearing the question, my eyes close and I visualize how Lucy looked when I was standing at her door this morning. More so, how Lucy looked
at me
this morning.

“It’s good.”

“How’s Lucy? She doin’ okay there alone with you?” he questions.

My concentration keeps to the blank piece of paper I thought I needed when I took Corbin’s call. When he texted to inform me he’d heard from Jane, I didn’t want to wait to hear what he had to say. Lucy was engrossed in chatting with my mother, so I thought I’d have more time. Little did I remember, my mother hates me being on the phone as much as Lucy obviously does.

“Yeah, it’s–”

The hand I didn’t see coming at me lifts the phone from my ear. I sit back and look up at Lucy standing close, now holding it to hers.

“Michael’s not working today,” she tells him, waiting a beat before smiling at whatever he’s telling her.

I don’t care to know what he’s saying because I’m sure it’s something
Corbin
and it would piss me off.

Seconds pass before she replies, “Good. Later.” She disconnects the call.

I wait for her to give it back. Instead, she walks around where I’m sitting and tosses it in her purse. My jaw aches from biting down to avoid lashing out.

Part of me would love nothing more than to reach over, hook my arm around her waist, place her on my lap, and truly beat her ass red. However, the other part of me finds her absolutely undeniable when she’s this defiant.

“Oh my,” my mother breathes out.

Fuck, there’s an audience.

“Did that just happen?” Denise sarcastically questions, taking in what Lucy’s done and obviously just now, of all times, deciding to join us for breakfast.

“What did you just do?” I hiss, no longer keeping quiet. With my mother staring at our exchange, and my sister adding to the tension I’m feeling, I’m impatient.

“You said you’re off,” Lucy reminds me, as well as all others in the room. “So no phone.”

“Lucy…” I growl to her back as she casually walks away.

I hear a small, barely audible gasp coming from behind Deni and see little Grace’s face peer around her mother’s legs. “Why are you so mad?” she asks with concern for Lucy.

As close as she is to seeing how a grownup is punished, she
should
be concerned.

Thinking quickly, my sister grabs Grace’s shoulder and squeezes to keep her quiet. Grace stops talking, but keeps her wide eyes on me.

“You’ll live without your phone,” Lucy adds as she closes in near my smiling mother.

“I was talking to Corbin,” I state the obvious.

“You’re off. No take-backs,” she counters.

“I was about done.”

After rolling her eyes, she looks to me without wavering. “And now you are. He said he’d call tomorrow.”

“Don’t do that again,” I scold.

She turns away before grabbing a plate from the cabinet, but I can still hear her statement loud and clear, just as she most likely intended. “Bet you want to spank me now.”

“Hell, yeah!” my sister exclaims, then smiles. “That did
so
just happen.”

Deni takes a seat, resting her elbow on the table and putting her chin in her hand. Thankfully, she finds nothing more to say. She doesn’t have to, though. I know by looking at her that my brat of a little sister is enjoying the ever-loving hell out of this.

“It’s supposed to clear up outside this afternoon. I thought you and Lucy could take Grace to the market later,” my mother suggests, changing the subject and filling the empty glasses around the table with milk.

“Carriage ride,” Grace interrupts loudly to ensure everyone can hear her wish.

Lucy turns from the stove, spatula in hand. “Carriage ride?”

Deni smiles, Mom smirks, and Grace animatedly explains, “Horses. They drive you around. They can take you to the lakes, too.”

“That what you want?” I ask without needing confirmation. I know my niece. It’s exactly what she wants.

“Yes,” Lucy answers, then all eyes move to her. “I’ll take her.”

Deni chimes in next. “I’ll stay back and help Mom clean up. You and Michael can take Grace.”

“That would be lovely,” Mom puts in, grabbing empty plates to set the small kitchen table. She picks up all my papers in front of me and tosses them in my lap. I’m sure she has more to say, but for whatever reason, she isn’t saying much at all.

“Yay!” Grace exclaims. “Can I wear my princess dress?”

“Whatever you want,” Deni tells her, reaching over to stroke her hair as Grace takes the chair beside her. My sister sends me a quick smile in thanks before she hands a glass of milk to her daughter.

“Breakfast is ready,” Lucy announces, setting a pile of red and pink pancakes on the table.

Grace claps her hands with glee before reaching over and grabbing her own plate.

Pink pancakes and carriage rides.

How the fuck did this happen?

Lucy

“Pull that shit again, Lucy, and I
will
redden your ass,” I hear Michael’s raspy voice in my ear, and it instantly sends a shocking shiver down my spine. The damning visualization he’d unknowingly given me in his office the first time he threatened it has taken on a whole new meaning now that I know what his hands feel like exploring my body, as well as how warm his tongue feels against my own.

Shit
.

We’re sitting in a carriage on a wet bench, waiting for the driver to finish showing Grace how to assemble the horses in front of it. Michael’s arm is stretched across the back of the bench, the feeling of his position intimate and familiar.

It was still raining when we arrived. The driver insisted the horses wouldn’t pull until this evening, if then, as they were expecting more rain. Michael, however, decided we didn’t have time to wait and coerced the man with cash and threats of Grace’s broken heart on display for all the passersby to witness. The older man, dressed nicely in a tailed tuxedo, folded instantly.

So here we are.

“What?” I question, not looking in his direction, knowing he’s been waiting for this opportunity since breakfast. We just haven’t been alone.

“My phone,” he clips. “I was talking to Corbin about something important when you grabbed it.”

Turning my gaze to his, I find we’re close enough that, if I leaned up, I could kiss him. My lips tingle with vivid remembrance. His eyes are dark with emotion, but it’s not anger. I can tell by the way he’s searching my face that my flippant comment got to him just the same as his did me when he said it the first time.

“You’re pissed about the spanking comment, not the phone,” I point out, knowing I’m right.

“I’m not,” he denies, keeping his face still.

“You’re off today,” I reiterate, taking my gaze from him and nodding in the direction of Grace, now sitting on top of the white horse while the gentleman balances her carefully.

I feel Michael’s hand drop to my shoulder before his finger grazes the outside of my ear. My eyes close when I sense my face flush. Unashamed, I tilt my head to deepen his connection and he sighs.

“What the fuck am I doing with you?” he asks himself quietly.

I don’t answer, but keep my eyes closed. I could think of many things I’d let him do. This weekend has all but confirmed I’d be his if he’d take me. I’d be compliant. I’d let him spank me. I’d do
anything
he asked. And I would enjoy every minute.

I feel him beside me, adjusting in his seat before his other hand grabs mine as it rests on my lap. His thumb caresses the top of it and he squeezes gently to capture my attention. I open my eyes and turn to look at him, his gaze warm. When my mouth parts, his eyes fall to my lips. Then his gaze is no longer warm. It’s heated. And I love that more.

“Horses are set,” the driver knowingly announces, if his smile is anything to go by. “Have the little one sit between you, if you would. She’s quite a handful.”

Grace climbs in with excitement, but doesn’t sit in the middle. Instead, she plants herself in my lap, forcing Michael’s hand to break from mine. I hear him grunt his disapproval at the loss of connection. I feel the same, but don’t voice it.

“He said we’re going to the twin lakes!” Grace practically screams. “And if it’s okay, he said we could feed the horses when we get back.”

“He says a lot,” Michael mumbles, obviously not happy about the interruption. “Too much,” he adds, scowling at the driver’s back.

Grace turns in her place, her long, dark hair hitting Michael’s shoulders as she does. She eyes me carefully as he moves it and gently places it on her back. My eyes wander to his and he winks before pulling her hair slightly to get her to move from my lap. When she doesn’t, he positions his hands on either side of her small body and places her between us. We squeeze her in, holding her captive, finally keeping her still.

The driver settles in his position, grabs the horses reins, then we’re jolted as we start to move into the busy foot traffic of downtown Chicago.

Michael

“Y
OU’D FEEL THE SAME WAY
if you were me,” Deni explains as we sit on our mother’s porch, having the exact discussion I came here to have. “She’s over-reacting. She’s also intrusive.”

“Mom’s always been like that,” I remind her, putting my feet up on the railing, listening to Grace inside yapping on about each movie she has lined up for her and Lucy tonight.

“I’m not sick, Mike. She called you all the way to Chicago because I’m lonely. That’s why I go out.”

I know this feeling, but it’s new to me.

Before Lucy, I hadn’t recognized the loneliness for what it was. I went from mourning the loss of my family to robotically pacing my way through each day. Sure, I’d spend time with Lillie or Corbin, but even with them, it never held true and meaningful value. I was making small talk when I should’ve been making memories.

Other than time, I thought nothing would help me process the anger and sadness, but after meeting Lucy, I realize I’ve been wasting it by waiting for something to change. But grief doesn’t have a pre-determined expiration date, so until you can learn to understand your loss, you’re left to suffer in its wake.

The last few weeks, though, I’ve found myself having something to look forward to, and it took coming here for me to clearly see it. Lucy has pulled me from the monotony of emptiness I had allowed myself to find refuge in. I don’t know how, but I’m thankful for it.

After a few seconds of silence, Deni nudges my shoulder with hers, but keeps her focus out into the front yard.

“I like her for you,” she tells me, and I can tell through the quiet tone of her words that she’s being sincere. “I like her anyway, but I
really
like her for you.”

To avoid discussing my own recent self-revelation, I advise, “She makes me nuts.”

“Of course.” Deni laughs. “That’s part of the reason I like her for you. You react to her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you react to a woman.”