Prove Me Right (22 page)

“I was embarrassed. I wanted to handle everything on my own. I didn’t want to burden Char with my shit when she was so happy. I felt guilty for keeping things from you. I needed validation for the decisions I made. The list goes on, Liam.”

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m still talking to Bart. Even though he’s my sponsor, he acts more like a therapist. I get it.”

“So you’re good, really?”

“Yes.” He spins his lip ring and kisses my head. “I’m really good.”

“Good. Let’s go meet some babies.”

We spend the rest of the night back and forth between Charlotte and Mary’s rooms. They both had boys, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think they were twins. They both have dark black hair and crystal blue eyes. Absolutely gorgeous babies. The women looked exhausted but beautiful. The guys, well, they looked a bit exhausted, ecstatic, and scared shitless. But everybody is happy and healthy, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Once we get home, we flop down on the mattress.

“I am not putting the bed together tonight.”

“Good. I couldn’t move right now even if you tried.”

“Oh, really? Not even if I did this?” His fingers find their way between my legs, and he slowly rubs circles there, reminding me how quickly he can turn me on.

My body heats up and I raise my hips as small trembles race through my veins. He pulls his hand away and ‘tsks’ me. Once I put my butt back on the mattress, he sticks his hands down my leggings and plays with me. Fingers move slowly around my clit then pick up speed. The pad of his hand rubs me hard while he swipes over and around my opening that’s desperate for attention.

The scent of my arousal fills the air and I can’t take it any longer. It’s almost painful how badly I want more, but every time I try to move a little bit, he stops. So when he pulls his hand back this time, I’m prepared. I grab his wrists and slide down until I feel his fingers where I want them and start grinding. Shamefully hard and fast.

“I thought you said you couldn’t move.”

“You’re an asshole,” I pant.

He’s so much stronger than I am, so when he pulls his hand away, I cry out and frustration causes me to squeeze my eyes shut. I refuse to look at him right now because he’s really starting to piss me off. Yes, he knows what he can do to me, and I normally like these stupid games he plays but not right now. When he sucks my clit into his mouth and fucks me with his fingers, tears roll out of my eyes as my release shudders through my body, burning every inch and finally shattering … leaving me nothing but a sweaty pile of orgasmic bliss.

“Why are you crying? Meara?”

“Dude … that was ...”

“So, good tears? You’re not sad?”

“Hmm, no, not sad at all.”

“Praise the Lord because I’m so fucking hard right now I’m not sure it’d ever go down unless I got in there.”

His belt buckle echoes in the almost empty room and his warm body covers mine. His dick bobs between my legs and finally settles between my wet and swollen lips. He lifts my shirt and licks my nipples through my lacy bra, bringing pleasure to each side one at a time. His long fingers thread through my hair and guide my head to his when he brings his lips up to meet mine.

His tongue glides against mine and his hand tightens on my head. With his mouth millimeters from mine, he slides his hardness through my wetness and his heavy sac slaps against my butt. I draw in a very long and very loud breath at the unexpected but fucking amazing feeling of him filling me.

“Fuckin’ A, princess.” He slams into me hard and fast a few times then stops but presses himself against me, his pelvis right on my throbbing core. “I’m already close. You gotta get there. Work your pussy on my cock.”

I have no shame in grinding on him, and in a matter of seconds, I feel myself start to tighten.

“Hurry,” he whispers.

“Come with me.”

He slams his mouth against mine and hammers into me.

“Fuck. God, Meara.”

I thrash underneath him and he pins me down as we both spiral into bliss, dots lining my vision and a buzzing in my ears. He lies unmoving on top of me until our breathing calms down long minutes later.

“I was not planning on that.”

“What were you planning on?”

“I dunno, a quickie or some shit,” he says seriously.

“Boy, aren’t you the romantic?”

He tickles my sides, and I snort-laugh. “Did you just snort?’

“Shut up!”

He lifts his head up and rubs his nose against mine. “I love you. So much it hurts sometimes. My chest gets tight just looking at you, but when I’m inside you, I can’t even breathe. You make it hard to breathe.”

I rub my finger across his lip. “I take it back. You’re romantic. You can stop laying it on so thick.”

“Thank God.” He pecks my lips and rolls off me and to his side. “I’m exhausted. Night, princess.”

I laugh and bop him on the head with a pillow, but he rips it out of my hand and throws it on the ground. It hits me when I close my eyes how happy I am right now. The joking and laughing are perfect. It’s us. It’s our normal.

* * *

“Wakey, wakey. Donuts and donuts.” I jump on the bed and Liam grabs at my ankles.

“Why the hell are you up? Damn,” his sleepy-sexy voice rumbles from deep in his chest.

I fall on my knees and rip the covers off him. “I have no clue, but you’re getting up with me. I ran to the gas station and got donuts.”

“Can I get like thirty seconds to piss first?”

“Sure, but hurry up. I feel guilty if I eat donuts alone.”

He pulls me in for a kiss and runs to the bathroom butt naked. I open the bag, toss a milk to his side, and open mine to take a sip. He comes back less than a minute later and shoves half a donut in his mouth. He holds the other half up and I bite into it.

“Mmm. So good.”

He’s still chewing, but nods in agreement.

“You know you really love someone when you can sit in bed naked eating a dozen donuts and not feel any shame,” I state.

“True that,” he mumbles.

He chugs his milk and wipes the mustache that formed. “So, I never got a chance to tell you I ran into Mr. Meyer at the store yesterday.”

“Really? How is he? I saw him in the pub a while ago, but that had to have been almost a year ago.”

“Well, his wife had a stroke so he’s been having trouble with her care and keeping up with the music center. He said he was going to have to sell the building because he just doesn’t have enough students to afford the bills since he’s cut down.”

“Oh, no. That’s horrible.” A crazy idea pops into my head, but I’m not sure he would go for it.

“Yeah, but I kind of told him I wanna buy it.”

I choke on my milk, and he reaches around me to pat my back. “You what?”

“I said I’m going to buy it and take over for him. Why, you think it’s a bad idea?”

“No, I just had the exact same thought! It’ll be awesome, Lee.”

He smiles so big both his top and bottom teeth show. “I think so, too. I want to go check it out today. Wanna come with?”

“Duh. Let’s go take a shower and go. Unpacking can wait.”

An hour later, we stand in front of the music center that will soon become Liam’s and walk inside to meet Mr. Meyer. I follow the two of them around as they talk animatedly about music and instruments. Lee pulls a guitar off the wall and strums a few chords then sits behind a drum set tapping out a beat. When he starts to play the piano, I try to remember the last time I’ve seen him so happy, and I suddenly feel like shit.

As if I’m forcing him to give up something he loves. Through all the tragedy with the baby, we never really talked that much about how he felt or still feels about leaving the band. He can speak all the words in the world about how much he grew to hate it, but the happiness on his face right now is evidence of something completely different.

I know there’s no way he’d ever go back to the band. He’s made that part perfectly clear, but I have an idea he may or may not go for.

“So, I was thinking,” I exclaim the second he gets in the car after shutting my door.

“Did it hurt?”

“Shut up. Would you wanna play at the pub?”

He scrunches his eyebrows and tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Like, just you and a piano or a guitar or whatever. We have karaoke, but I just thought it might be fun for you. I saw how happy you were back there, playing again, and I just thought … Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Babe, it’s not stupid. I didn’t understand what you were saying at first. And I think it’s a great idea. But what made you think about it?”

“Just … I know you want to be here, but I worry that you’ll regret not being able to play anymore. Seeing you so happy in there just made me think that it’d be a way for you to still perform … I dunno.”

He turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot. “I was so happy because those were some of the instruments I learned to play on. It was nostalgic.”

“Oh.” Well shit, now I feel stupid for making a big deal about it.

“But I like the idea. In fact, that was what I wanted to get back to. I always liked the smaller, more intimate venues. It’s a great idea.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that to appease me?”

He chuckles. “No. Not at all.”

“Cool. Of course, there’s no rush. I want to focus on the house this week, and when I go back to work next week, I’ll look into whatever instruments you want.”

“No, I’ll get ‘em. But I hope you know that you’re not going to be working sixteen-hour days anymore.”

I hit my head against the window and grunt. “Fuckin’ Nik.”

“He was just looking out for you.”

“Now that you’re here, I won’t feel the need to keep busy so much. But it also means that I’ll probably have to hire another bartender.”

I try to calculate how many hours I can cut back to. How much I’d have to pay somebody. If that extra bartender would need to work full time or part time.

“Stop. No work this week, remember? I arranged for everyone to pick up your hours and even roped your parents into checking on the paperwork.”

I was shocked when he surprised me with that the day after he told me about the house. Other things overshadowed his kindness and hard work to make that happen, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Those little things that he does, that he always did, are only part of the man who sits next to me. And he looks younger, happier, stress-free. He looks like my Liam.

Chapter 25

Liam

NIK WIPES DOWN THE
bar and Meara disappears around the corner to finish something in the office before we leave. He clears his throat and throws the rag over his shoulder.

“I just wanna make sure we’re cool. That shit that went down last month was bad timing and I keep thinking about what I said. Listen.” He heaves out a breath and leans closer to me. “I have some family shit going on right now. Had then, too.”

“Nik. We’re straight. I got it.”

“Cool.” He puts away some clean glasses and asks how everything with the music center is going.

“Great. I’ve got everything turned over to my name. Now it’s just a matter of getting kids in for lessons and some of the logistics. Mr. Meyer is having a hard time letting some things go, which is understandable.”

“Is everything else okay? Meara seems real good lately.”

“Yeah, I think so. She’s never been one to bullshit, so when I ask her how she’s doing and she says fine, I take it for what it’s worth. Plus, if I ask her anymore, she said she’d punch me in the dick.”

He cringes and his body shudders. “She’d do it, too.”

“I know.” I laugh. “That’s why I’m not asking her anymore!”

Meara is still in the office, so we shoot the shit while she finishes up. About fifteen minutes later, she emerges with a jacket and a smile. “Ready?”

“Yup. We were just waiting for you.”

The three of us walk out and Nik says good-bye before he hops on his motorcycle and takes off. We’ve been on a funky schedule lately with me not working. I’ve been coming to the bar to pick her up at two in the morning and we sleep ‘til ten. But with me taking over the music center, I’m going to have to start being there in the morning.

I reach over for her hand on the drive home. “Any luck hiring someone else?”

“Oh. Umm, no.”

“Have you looked?”

“Yes, Liam. I have ads out.”

Her snippy tone is a cause for pause.

“So, nobody’s applied?”

“A few people have.”

“Have you interviewed them?”

“Jesus.” She takes her hand out of mine and taps her fingers against her leg. “I told you it’s going to take time.”

“How much time? I’m going to start work soon too, and we need to figure out our schedules and stuff.”

“How am I supposed to magically know when somebody is going to be a good fit? I’m not a damn psychic.”

I pull into the garage and she gets out and slams her door before doing the same to the connecting one that leads to the kitchen. Obviously, I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t know why. Worst-case scenarios are flying through my head and the biggest one makes my stomach cramp. Deciding she might need a few minutes alone, I take my time getting upstairs.

“What’s the matter?” I ask from outside the bathroom door.

“Nothing.”

“Meara.”

She flings the door open. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You were fine all day, then I simply ask how the hiring is going and you bite my head off.”

“No, I didn’t. I answered your question, but you kept pushing like you always do.”

“Wow.” I put my hands in the air and slowly walk backward out of the room. “I’ve obviously done something to piss you off, so I’m just gonna go.”

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me, as if I’m the asshole. I turn around and walk downstairs and back outside. Meara picked out these kick ass hammock-chair things. They’re like sitting on a fucking cloud. I plop my ass in one and close my eyes.

I’m not used to this. It’s been years since we’ve spent this much time together, and I guess this is par for the course. Couples fight. They take out their frustration on each other and sometimes say things they don’t mean. I just want to spend time with her, but I need to stop thinking about myself and understand her pressure. There have been many changes lately and we’re both adjusting the best that we can.