Releasing Me (20 page)

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Authors: Jewel E. Ann

BOOK: Releasing Me
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When he finished drying my hair, he kissed away more tears, slipped on a pair of jeans, and carried me downstairs.


You’re losing weight, so either you eat, or I call Mac. What’s it going to be?


Eat.

He peeled back a banana and handed it to me before getting one for himself. The interesting part about fasting is that by the third day, you’re not hungry. It took me twenty minutes to finish my banana. Quinn made oatmeal with pecans, cinnamon, and coconut nectar. When he held a spoonful to my mouth I shook my head.


You said you’d eat.


I did.

My response was monotone while my face remained expressionless. I tossed my banana peel on the counter in his direction, then I stood and went back upstairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Quinn

If there would
have been a line of people waiting to spit on my father’s grave, I would have been at the front. The truth was, he did more good in his life than bad. But ask any politician what stands out on Judgment Day and they’ll all say it was the bribe they took, the prostitute they slept with once, or the pot they smoked in college. It doesn’t take much to tarnish an Ivy League education, a thirty-year political career, a professional athlete’s reputation, or even a Nobel Peace Prize. My father came to America and built his companies from the ground up. He provided jobs for thousands of people and treated his employees with respect. He loved my mother and his three children more than life. He sacrificed so much to give us the life he never had. But in the end, it was the
one
poor business decision out of a million, a meaningless affair that lasted weeks compared to forty years of marriage, and a few years of addiction out of sixty years of sobriety that everyone remembered … including me.

If fucked-up had a definition, it was what happened the night I let Olivia into my condo after I’d gotten home from work and numbed my misery with several hard drinks. Most nights I drank until I passed out, but she caught me a couple glasses shy of my goal. When she asked me how I was doing, all I could think about was Addy, my Addy, naked under Jake. Fucking Jake. I needed another drink, but what Olivia offered worked just as well. That was my mark. The night that tarnished everything else.

A baby. Olivia didn’t even want kids. When she showed up at my office Monday, I knew she was pissed, but she tried to cover it with her fake enthusiasm. Asking her to have an abortion, which she would have done if it were any other guy’s child, was not an option. My mother didn’t like Olivia, but she would have disowned me for suggesting or even allowing the termination of her grandchild. I think Olivia was waiting for me to drop down on one knee and promise her forever. That was never going to happen. There was no doubt that my child would not want for anything, but my feelings for Olivia would never go beyond simple respect for her being the mother of my child.

I told Addy I hadn’t been drinking and that wasn’t a lie. But I didn’t tell her how many glasses of Scotch I poured at my office and shattered against the wall before I went home. Part of me knew I’d already lost her, so I figured why not start the numbing process. But when I arrived home with my brown bag of poison, I was drawn to the sealed envelope in my room, the letter from my mother. Before I removed the cap to my most certain demise, I tore open the letter. I felt confident that after reading it I would need the alcohol more than I already did.

My Dearest Quinten,

You are such a beautiful expression of my soul. You were my first born

and my first TRUE love. When I take my last breath, I will remember your first. When I held you in my arms, my whole purpose in life was realized. I lived to love you. You have to know, I died a million deaths after your climbing accident. The day you went in for surgery I promised God my life in exchange for yours. When I found out the cancer had returned, I knew it was time. I made a promise to God, and when he spared your life, I willingly followed when he called for mine. I’m ready. The chemotherapy nearly killed me the first time, and I can’t do it again. Addy has offered to take me anywhere in the world, for any type of treatment. She’d spare no expense to save my life, to give you back your mother. Everyone needs to know that Addy has been amazing. She’s so broken
––
just shattered inside, yet she continually gives more of herself than she really has to give. I love her and I know you do too.

Forgive, my dear son. Forgive me for not saying goodbye. Forgive your father for his mistakes. Forgive Addy for everything

always. Then forgive yourself. You don’t have to be perfect to have the perfect life. Remember that, because had your father been able to grasp that, he would still be alive.

Love. Love yourself enough to hold on and love others enough to let go. I know you’re so talented. Money and success have always come easy to you, but they’re not worthy of your passion. Find your one true passion in life and follow it. Follow it until you take your last breath.

I will always be with you. Look for me in everything that makes you smile. Feel my loving arms around you when you’re sad. And hear my voice in the wind and the ripple of the tides. Be well, my dear child. Thank you for the best thirty-five years of my life. Being your mother was truly the greatest gift!

All my love & all my life
––
Mom

I crumpled the paper in my hands and held it to my face. When I pulled it back, I noticed the smudged black ink from my tears. I raced to the sink to grab a towel. I blotted the letters before her words faded as quickly as she did. Then I put it in my safe at the back of my closet. When I returned to my bedroom, the brown sack of alcohol on my dresser haunted me. I grabbed it and frantically removed the cap before dumping the contents into the sink.

Addy had sent me numerous texts and left multiple messages on my phone. I knew she was on her way. However, I needed all the time I could get to gain the courage it was going to take to tell the love of my life that another woman was carrying my child. Addy believed in karma, but I wasn’t as convinced until then. My cavalier and often reckless lifestyle had eventually caught up with me, and in that moment Olivia’s pregnancy felt like karma.

Had I not read my mother’s letter, I would have let Addy walk out my door forever, just like I had tried to do so many times before. But one word kept racing through my mind,
passion
. Addy was my one true passion in life. I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe. I’d made up my mind that I would never give up on her. If she left me, I would have spent the rest of my life,
until I took my last breath
, searching for her and begging for her forgiveness. I owed it to my mother. I owed it to myself.

Alcohol takes the edge off the emotional stab that comes from breaking someone’s heart. Telling Addy about Olivia—sober—was like slowly shoving a knife in her chest and simultaneously in mine as well. It was a raw Shakespearean moment. She wanted to die in my arms and I in hers. I had to be strong for her, like she had been for me. But all I really wanted to do was lock out the rest of the world and never be separated from her again. Being strong for her in one of my own weakest moments drained everything from me, but by some miracle, three days later we were both still hanging on. However, desperation still lurked at every corner. I needed to do something to jolt us out of our eternal misery.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Addy

Life is full
of peaks and valleys. Then there was my life. By Saturday morning I still felt like I was at the bottom of the valley, pinned under a massive boulder that was crushing me. I could barely breathe and help was nowhere in sight. The previous day I spent in bed, even my water intake was down, which was fine because I was tired of crying. Quinn spent the day either on the phone or downstairs answering the door. My curiosity had vanished along with my appetite and will to live. I never asked him who was at the door or what the jumbled chatter was all about. I. Just. Didn’t. Care.

Quinn cracked the blinds to the room, letting in just enough morning light for me to notice the snow falling. I squinted my eyes.


Close them,

I moaned before burying my face in the pillow.


Not today, love. Today you get out of bed.

Quinn had a bit of hope in his voice that I hadn’t heard since I arrived back in New York. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the bedroom.

Taking one slow step at a time, he carried me down the stairs, and my lungs captured their first full breath of air since Monday. Everything, literally everything, was adorned with garland, lights, wreaths, ornaments, and ribbons. The air smelled like a delicious mix of cinnamon and pine. The harmony of The Christmas Song on the piano flowed from the surround sound. When we turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the sight before my eyes was grander than anything I had ever seen in my life. Extravagant was inadequate, because there really were no words. The tree was a Griswold fantasy. The crystal star at the top nearly touched the double-height ceiling. There must have been a thousand ornaments hanging from the branches. It was Rockefeller Center meets Macy’s, architecturally designed to perfection for Quinn’s condo. Even his couch was covered in holiday decor pillows and two large poinsettias sat at each end. The kitchen island had red glass votives next to a plate of exquisitely decorated sugar cookies and two tall holiday mugs filled with hot apple cider.

He set me down on my feet and moved a step back, as if he wanted to give me a moment to absorb it all. After several minutes my eyes found his again. I didn’t see the alcoholic man I saved only a couple weeks earlier; or the father of Olivia’s child; or the broken spirit that had been clinging to me just days earlier. All I could see was love. My whole body flooded with warmth, and my lungs welcomed the fresh air, as though I hadn’t been breathing for days.


This is … I can’t believe you …

Shaking his head, he flashed me his cocky grin and said the one word I needed to hear to bring a genuine smile to my face.

Elves.

Sometimes fighting hurts more than just surrendering. As much as I wanted our situation to be different, fighting reality was way too exhausting. What he did for me was the equivalent of Mac tackling me in the airport after the fire. It was my wake up call. I had to choose to live or die, but hanging on the precipice was no longer a choice.


I love your elves.


And me?

I walked into his open arms.

You’re okay.

*

After I rehydrated with a large glass of water, we sat at the counter and sipped hot cider while the snow outside continued to fall.


So what was your plan B?

I asked.

He wrinkled his brow and cocked his head to the side.

If this didn’t work?

I nodded with a smile.


Fly you to the most remote place on Earth without telling anyone and never come back.


I’m guessing it would have been less expensive than all this.

I motioned to the room with my mug in hand.


Probably, but who cares? I gave them your credit card, not mine.

He kept a straight face as he lifted a frosted cookie to his mouth.

I shoved his hand, smashing his cookie into his face.

You shit.

He was undoubtedly caught off guard as he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes wide. I hopped onto his lap, straddling him, then wiped some frosting from the tip of his nose. I sucked it off my finger with a smile.

I knew you were just after my money.


Mmm and this …

He grabbed the back of my head and smashed his mouth against my lips. When his tongue slid next to mine, I could taste sweet vanilla and him. As he released me, we both laughed at the sight of the other’s messy face. Then our eyes locked and our smiles faded. There was an almost palpable electricity between us. My heart raced as his chest rose and fell against mine. He curled a tendril of hair behind my ear and cupped my face with his hand.

I leaned into it and closed my eyes,

Quinn,

I breathed out.

Dropping his head to my neck, he slid his tongue all the way to my ear. Sucking in my lobe, he grazed it with his teeth.

Addy,

he whispered back.

My nipples pebbled under my thin white tank and heaviness filled my sex. He teased my bottom lip with his teeth and pulled on it, soliciting a moan from my throat. The bulge in his jeans pressed against my panties as I ran my fingers through his hair and arched my back so my taut nipples pressed against his chest.


Make love to me.

He stilled and looked into my eyes then dragged his gaze to my lips for a moment before meeting my eyes again and nodding his head. Standing, he hiked me up on his waist as I interlaced my fingers behind his neck.

As he walked toward the stairs, I shook my head.

By the tree…

I grinned

…so the elves can watch.

He reached over and grabbed the plush, new, holiday blanket from the back of the couch and attempted to spread it on the massive rug by the tree. Then he kneeled down and laid me on the blanket.

Well, since I’m not sure if
you
left a big enough tip, maybe they do deserve a little show.

Kneeling between my bent legs, he removed his T-shirt. My shameless eyes admired every inch of his sculpted to perfection body. Each second with him was a gift. So I continued to watch him remove the rest of his clothes, as well as my tank and panties, making sure I committed the moment to memory. That moment was everything when our future seemed so grim. I never wanted to forget the way he looked completely exposed to me, but more than that, I never wanted to forget the way he looked at me.

Ghosting his lips over the swell of my breasts, he feathered his fingers up the curves of my hips to the sides of my breasts, finally pushing my arms above my head. As he interlaced our fingers, his tongue traced the areola of my breast once before he sucked in my nipple. My breath hitched as a bolt of sensation descended upon my sex. When he moved to my other breast, he lowered his hips just enough for the tip of his hard cock to graze through the seam of my wet, swollen sex. My hips jerked up as the rest of my body writhed beneath him.


Again,

I moaned.

He licked a hot wet path from my nipple to my mouth. Then as he plunged his tongue in to dance with mine, he angled his hips back and dipped forward taking a deeper swipe between my folds and up across my clit.


Again,

I begged, pushing my hips completely off the floor.

Engulfing my mouth, he released my hands. One of his hands went straight to my breast, squeezing, tugging, and kneading it. The other snaked between my thighs. His fingertips softly brushed over my sex and just as I released a needy whimper, his middle finger penetrated my folds and slid up my channel. I squeezed his finger and nearly orgasmed. My breathing became erratic as I tried to control the building sensation ready to explode.


Let it go,

he whispered in my ear as his thumb circled my clit.


Ung
… oh God!

Closing my eyes I saw stars as I climaxed to his expert touch.

Before I came down, he slid his erection into me––completely. He paused as my muscles clenched around his delicious fullness. I waited for him to move, but he didn’t. He pinned me to the floor with just his eyes. I rolled mine to the side and nervously chewed the inside of my cheek.


Addy … look at me.

I couldn’t.


Addy …

He rested his forehead on mine as my damn tears came back. When I finally looked at him, he kissed them away.

It was one night. I was drunk, but not passed out yet. I never even kissed her or looked into her eyes. I closed mine and thought of you … with Jake.

He brushed his lips against mine as he pulled back and pushed into me again and again.

It’s you, only you,
always
you.

I wrapped my legs around his waist as he made love to me. It was no longer about a mind-blowing orgasm … it was feeling connected to him in every way. Memories of the night he proposed to me on the beach played in my mind. I remembered the same feeling of need, anxiety, and desperation. Every inch of my skin starved for his touch. Fisting his hair, I pulled him to my lips so hard I felt them bruising as they melded together. I didn’t care. I surrendered my body to his as he breathed life back into me.

His warm release flowed into me as he stilled with tensed muscles.

I love you … I love you so fucking much it hurts,

he groaned out.

After he showered my face with soft kisses, he started to pull out.


Don’t … not yet,

I said, digging my heels into his firm butt.

He slid his arm under my back and lifted my body to his chest as he rolled to his back without breaking our connection. I rested my head against his chest, picking up the rhythm of his heart.


I’m not trying to be needy it’s just—


Shh, you don’t have to explain. And for the record, I could live the rest of my life buried inside you like this. Besides, it speeds up the recovery time,

he thrust his hips so I could feel how his shaft was already starting to stir again.

*

We stayed tangled together on the floor by the tree for two more hours. I never wanted to leave our little bubble. We worshipped each other’s bodies through leisurely caressing and tasting. His scent drove me crazy. It wasn’t a cologne, lotion, or soap; it was those damn pheromones. I loved nuzzling my nose in his chest, hair, and the crook of his neck. He breathed me in just as often, and every time he did it sent chills down my spine. It felt like he could devour me; and in terms of crazy, insane, love addiction, nothing could be better.

Wrapped in the blanket, he had me tucked into his body, spooning my back.


What are you going to do?

I asked in a soft voice.

He didn’t answer right away, but I knew he heard me.

Whatever it takes.

Could you be any more vague?

Permanently landing in Chicago in twenty-seven weeks with Quinn was not going to happen. I would undoubtedly be there for Mac as her due date approached, but Quinn would be in New York, waiting for his own child to be born. The thought was crushing.


Financially she doesn’t need my help, but I’m sure she’ll insist on it anyway. Other than money, there’s not much I can do until the baby is older. Then I suppose it will be no different than shared custody in a divorce situation.


God, Quinn … could you be any more naive? You honestly don’t think she’s going to expect you to be at every prenatal appointment? What about the birth, will you be in the room with her? And what makes you think she’s not going to expect you to have this child fifty-percent of the time from day one? Not every woman breastfeeds their baby. If she opts for formula, then it is quite possible you could be playing dad to a newborn. Bottles, diapers, late night feedings, crying, spitting up … have you even considered this?


I’ll hire a nanny.


Who’s here every night?


Of course, it’s not exactly unheard of. Lots of wealthy people hire nannies to basically raise their children.

Is he for real?

I sat up and pulled the blanket over my chest.

So if we had a baby and I died you would hire a stranger to raise our child?

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