Page 25 of Present Tense

“And there it is. You mention it, and my dick obeys you.” I push him off me and climb on top as I undo the jeans he just put on. He says, “Not sure why I got dressed at all.”

I tug on my boots, and he’s leaning against the door frame, pulling on his coat. His yummy soft brown cashmere sweater taut over his chest and those dark jeans hugging his muscular thighs ironically make me want to see him naked again. His arms are crossed, and I grin from a place deep inside of me. He’s fucking good-looking and he’s good at fucking.

I grin at him and run my nails through his sexy as fuck beard. I’m starting to remember what it’s like to feel free and impulsive. I want this to be something, even if it is temporary. But I want him to feel free, too.

“Ethan?” I bite my bottom lip. I need to just clarify my kid’s not the hesitation and reason for his mood shift.

He immediately puts my face in his hands so I don’t miss a single syllable of what he says to me. “No. No. Oh, Bella, no. He’s a piece of you. How could I ever be deterred by that? Please believe me when I tell you, Ethan isn’t my reservation. My affection is.” He’s stolen words and breath from me for a moment.

“I saw your reaction to his photo.” I lightly slap his chest. “No censoring. Tell me.”

“I’m a fucking thirty-seven-year-old man jealous of a thirteen-year-old. It was the way you looked at his photos. It was your Ethan smile. It’s just for him and it lit you up inside.” I’m trying to piece together what he’s saying.

I mock him a little. “Let’s cultivate a Fletch smile.”

“I think maybe we could do that. I mean, we do have almost two weeks to accomplish that. But could it be that easy?” He kisses me softly but there’s still something else. He’s holding back. I’ll get at it soon enough. I get lost in this kiss and my mind goes blank. I don’t want to think past this kiss.

We have no secrets, and we can’t hide our past. All of our pain and joy is on display all the time. Only our private thoughts and wants are tucked away from each other. Or at least my deeper rumblings of wondering if two weeks is enough of this man for me. I could get used to sitting on his face and across from him, laughing and eating sandwiches. But I need to push all that shit down.

“Maybe easy is ok.” I squeeze him closer to me.

“Perhaps it is.” He slides his tongue against mine, and I groan into his touch. Whatever this turns out to be, I’m ignoring all my responsibilities for the rest of our time together. I have a house to decorate and presents to buy. And many orgasms to have.

18

LIAM

We walk to The Olde Bar hand in hand. We’re out of my house and walking streets I see every day, but today they seem brighter. I can’t stop myself, no matter what I say. She looks adorable in her pink knit hat. Her green fleece gloves, offset by my black ones, look extra cheerful. I secretly want to keep her.

“I miss the smell of this town.” She inhales deeply, and I adore she still feels connected to a city she left as fast as possible.

“Really? I always thought it was Camden that smelled.”

She laughs. “Chicago has its own smell, too.” She looks up at me, and I kiss her nose.

“Beef blood?”

She says, “Get your facts straight. We’re the hog butchers to the world.”

“My mistake. You know I’ve never been there.”

She drops my hand, puts her hands on her hips, and yells, “Get out! Really? Oh my God, we’re going to staycate the hell out of my town.” She’s so loud, people on the sidewalks look at us. She doesn’t care. I’m not sure how she does that.

“Why did you stay in Chicago after your divorce?”

“Because he did, and Ethan’s friends, school, and life are all there. And it’s home.” It is her home. As much as Philly is mine. Another obstacle. I’m foolish to entertain thoughts beyond New Year’s. So idiotic, but she makes me feel so fucking good. And not just the multiple times I’ve been inside of her. This, walking hand in hand, has me happier than I’ve allowed myself to be since long before my marriage and divorce. That’s the saddest thing about my divorce—I don’t think I was ever truly happy in the marriage. I snap my attention back to the divine woman at the end of my arm.

I nudge. “Have you ever thought of moving?” What the hell am I doing? No clue. Can’t stop myself.

“Philly is where I’m from. I made Chicago my home. Sometimes Ethan and I play this game, ‘Where would you live if you had all the money in the world?’ And it always ends with us talking about a different Chicago neighborhood we’d move to.”

“Have you ever moved to a different neighborhood?” I ask.

She retakes my hand. “Nope. We like our house too much. You’ll see. It’s the perfect brick cottage farmhouse set among mansions on a cool tree-lined street. We’re within walking distance to restaurants, the L, and the most perfect doughnuts ever made. It’s idyllic.”

I pull out her chair, and she thanks me quietly. I order a Victory Java Cask stout out of habit. She orders the beer special and a dozen oysters right away. She’s always been this decisive and easygoing. I wonder if she’s like this all the time or only with me. Jillien is staring past me to the bar. She looks wistful and a little lost.

“I came here when I was little. For some reason, I wasn’t in school, and my mom and dad were coming here for a client meeting of some sort. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why my stay-at-home mom was at the meeting. But the bartender put a live crab up on the bar and made it do tricks. Then he pointed out the parts of it I should eat. Then he put a lobster up there on its back and made it flip over by rubbing its tail. That big rubber band slipped off its claw, and the lobster caught his finger. There was a lot of blood, and he quickly grabbed a bar towel, then made me a Shirley Temple. It was my first one.”