No Simple Sacrifice Page 14

  “Christ,” Fletcher choked out. “Such a tease.”

  “Who said I’m teasing?”

  I clutched myself harder through my boxers. “I definitely love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She swiveled her gaze to Fletch, who stood on the other side of the bed. He released his cock in order to open his arms for her. She crawled to him, swaying her bare rear as she went.

  I unleashed a groan. I could scarcely contain myself. I would never, ever get my fill of this sassy little minx—especially now, with her gifting us with her commitment. It was like a dream, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to pinch myself. If I Rip Van Winkled the rest of my life away, so be it. But currently, I embraced this reality—and the actual chance to build the future we’d been waiting our entire lives for. Yeah, there would be challenges and obstacles, including those who’d never understand our non-traditional relationship, but none of that mattered. We had one another, and our love, to see us through. Traditions were special. Precious. But they didn’t change the world. These two people had already changed my world. I owed them so much.

  I owed them everything.

  The San Diego sunshine peeked in through the partially opened blinds, warming us to an almost uncomfortable temperature as our bodies joined once more. Talia’s screams of pleasure swirled with the songs of the morning birds, the best way I could ever think to start a day. Fletcher and I worked together to bring her—and ourselves—to crest after crest of completion, showering her with every drop of love in our hearts. She was completely content when we fell asleep, but when I woke up a few hours later, it was to the sight of her staring at me… With new tears in her eyes.

  Gently, I reached up to wipe the wetness rolling down her cheeks. “What’s wrong, love?” I whispered it, in case Fletch was still asleep.

  Again, she caught her lower lip beneath her teeth. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

  “I’m never going to leave you.”

  “You’re leaving me in a few hours.”

  “You know what I mean. And we’re going to see you in Chicago for the shareholders’ gala. That’s only a couple of weeks away.”

  She released the lip. It was plumped and darkened to the shade of ripe berries. Fuck. I wondered if it tasted just as sweet.

  Before the fantasy of finding out for myself got out of hand, I changed the subject, “Do you have a dress? I can arrange for a shopper to come to you, show you some things right here in San Diego.”

  She smiled softly and shook her head. “I already have something. But two weeks…it’s so far away.”

  “I know. It’ll drag by for us, too.”

  As I exhaled heavily, she sucked in a matching breath. Tilted her head, letting the sun illuminate her pensive expression. “Drake…”

  “What, baby?”

  “I’m not going to be good at this long-distance thing. My heart is too tender.”

  “I know.” I shifted my hand up, stroking into her silky dark hair. “It won’t be for long, I promise. Fletch and I will figure something out. We need to see how things are going at home and decide what the best plan is. But I swear, we’ll come up with something.”

  “I want to believe that.” She sniffed again. “I do.”

  “You have no other choice.”

  A laugh trickled through her tears. “I don’t, do I?”

  I stiffened my lips, gently chastising. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you have to believe what I say until I don’t keep my word. Then you can doubt me. But until then—”

  Fletcher scooted over, rising up on an elbow, pushing close behind her. He’d clearly heard the whole conversation. “We won’t let you go, Talia. You’re stuck with us now.”

  She swung a hand back, lightly bopping his head. “I’m not stuck. I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

  “No. We’re the lucky ones.” He nuzzled his face into her hair.

  “We all are.” I gave in to temptation at last, pressing my lips to hers. Oh, yeah. Luscious as berries. But when I pulled away, a pout lingered on her face.

  “This is still going to suck. It’s going to be so sad to be apart.”

  “Focus on when we’ll be together again. We can text and FaceTime. It’ll be like we’re right here.” My buddy, ever the optimist, stamped the words into the column of her neck.

  Talia sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  “Well…at least I’ll have Titus for company.”

  I laughed. “That’s one male we won’t be jealous of.”

  She laughed too, but the mirth never reached her eyes. I sensed her sadness, still lurking just beneath the surface—and in more than a few ways, I shared it. Saying goodbye in a couple of hours was going to be brutal. But I’d take a page from my buddy’s book and look at the bright side. The strides we’d taken tonight would keep him and me on task, determining a way to continue maintaining our businesses while keeping Talia in our lives. Something had to happen as soon as possible—before she decided we weren’t worth the anxiety of the long distance.

  Or before her parents filled her head with more bullshit about us.

  I wouldn’t stand for it.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t understand. I got it—all too well. I was devoted to my own family—but they were also devoted to me. If I brought home a kangaroo and told them she made me happy, they’d find a way to accept that reality and be happy for me. From what I’d seen so far, Tolly’s family didn’t love one another so much as control one another.

  But losing them would tear her apart.

  If it came to that, would Fletcher and I be enough for her?

  Only time would answer that—and there, at last, was one wait I’d be patient with. Like Talia, I had no choice.

  Chapter Seven

  Talia

  What are you wearing?

  Did you really just ask me that?

  I mean to the gala.

  A dress.

  With panties?

  Maybe yes…maybe no.

  Naughty girl.

  Isn’t that the way you like me?

  You mean the way I love you? Yes.

  Where is Drake?

  Here. On the phone with his mommy.

  LOL. Are they close?

  Very.

  Controlling close, like my family?

  No. Supportive close. They’re pretty cool.

  You like them a lot.

  Yes.

  What about your family?

  What about them?

  You never talk about them.

  Only to my therapist.

  Sad face.

  Long story.

  K

  We can’t wait to see you.

  Me too. TTYL?

  Of course.

  Should I kiss Titus for you both?

  Is that necessary?

  You’re going to give him issues!

  Fine. Kiss Titus for us, too.

  I lo—

  My cell phone rang before I could stop giggling long enough to tap out the rest of the reply. Damn telemarketer. No, I didn’t want to switch to solar, thank you.

  By the time I clicked back to Fletch, he’d beaten me to the punch and apologized his way off the line, having to get to a teleconference with his European office. Despite the aching stab in my heart from missing them both a little more, I smiled. The man loved texting me at all hours of the day, wanting to know everything from what I’d had for lunch to the wetness status of my panties. Drake, on the other hand, liked voice contact, brief and gruff, but so sexy and dirty he melted the panties Fletch had demanded to know so much about.

  They were so wonderfully different—yet so much the same, in that they held my heart in the palms of their hands. Yes, now more than ever. Even more than nearly two weeks ago, after they’d flown to California and we’d cleared the air about so much, soaring to a new level in our relationship with our three-way agreement. Since then, I’d been liv
ing over the moon. Flying in a galaxy of happiness, every star in the sky so clear and brilliant and joyous. On their own, either of those men would be a fantasy come to life—but together, they were all my dreams come true.

  Except for the one thousand five hundred miles between us.

  More sadness panged. I force-fed myself another hope-filled reminder that we’d be together soon…but to this day, I hadn’t heard that exact plan. Both the guys owned thriving, diversified businesses in addition to serving on the SGC board, which consumed a lot of their time and attention. They moved in the same echelons as Killian Stone—who, I knew from hanging with Claire, was often up before dawn and back in bed past midnight due to his responsibilities. All those businesses were solidly anchored in Chicago. I would never expect them to uproot their lives and move to California just to be with me—though I had to confess that fantasy kept me awake at night. What life would be like with the two of them around all the time…

  The answer wasn’t difficult to summon.

  It would be more happiness and love than one girl deserved.

  And I’d happily accept it.

  Until I considered what I’d say to my family about it.

  If there was a plus side to falling in love over thousands of miles, that was definitely it. Right now, I didn’t have to address the elephant in the room, because the elephant wasn’t in the room. But if Mama ever saw me with Drake and Fletch again…especially now, when sparks fired the air before we even touched, and we wore our love like giddy honor badges on our faces…

  Ugh.

  Visions of nuclear fallout didn’t feel like melodrama at all.

  My mother was the mascot for ridiculously old-fashioned, but she was also very astute. Even if the three of us showed up in Puritan costumes, she’d smell our attraction in the air faster than a she-wolf with fresh meat. We’d barely been able to hide it at Anya’s party—before the night that had changed all others. The passion that had tilted my world’s axis.

  The love I could no longer deny.

  Not even in front of Mama.

  I jerked my head with determination. Now wasn’t the time to brood over that. Not when there were fun things to fret over—like clothes.

  I opened my closet for the third time that afternoon. Worried my lip while examining the gown hanging inside. I wasn’t sure about the purchase, despite how the lady in the shop had nearly swooned when I’d tried it on. The pale sage wasn’t the trendiest color this season, but was a great complement to the tan tones of my skin. God, how I’d wanted to drag Katrina along for the brutal honesty only a sister could dish, but then she’d demand to know where I was going, who I was going with, and every other detail down to my toenail polish. I’d gotten lucky when she’d called to cancel because Anya had a dance recital rehearsal. That child was involved in more activities than seemed natural, but I knew my sister hadn’t been thrilled about staying home after she was born—yet another inviolable family custom—so had jumped at being supermom every chance she could got.

  And just like that, I was back to being confused about my family.

  I wanted to be angry with myself about it—even indignant with Fletcher and Drake, for being the catalysts—but these questions were too big for that. Too important. Why did ‘tradition’ drown so many of Katrina’s needs that she was running herself and her daughter ragged to disguise them? Why was the family’s way revered more than its members’ happiness? Why was everything weighed the exact same way it had been in a 16th century Russian village—which about summed up the community my parents still socialized in—instead of a modern land, five hundred years later, where grown adults were capable of making their own decisions…and free to follow their hearts?

  Follow my heart.

  Best idea I’d had all day.

  Since I’d already checked in with Fletcher, I decided to reach out to Drake. He wouldn’t enjoy the texting thing, but the big guy would have to deal. We hadn’t connected in a day and a half and I missed him like crazy.

  Hi.

  Well, hi, little one.

  I grinned. Closed my eyes for a second, hearing his gorgeous timbre on every syllable of the greeting. Imagined it caressing my neck, in the sensitive spot he always hit with his scruff, shuddering down to the very center of my clit…

  What are you doing?

  Working. U?

  Looking at my dress. Again.

  Can’t wait to see you in it. And out of it.

  I think you’re going to like it.

  Baby, I would love you in a potato sack.

  I selected a smirking emoticon, preceding reply.

  This is definitely not a potato sack.

  That’s just an expression.

  What is?

  Potato sack.

  Oh. LOL.

  Maybe just in the Midwest?

  Probably. Never heard it before.

  Can I call you later? Need to finish up here.

  Of course.

  I prayed my pout didn’t somehow seep into the words. As if the phone screen was going to impart the answer, I stared at it a moment longer than I should have. He was busy. He ran a company. And yes, he worked—even on a Saturday. I needed to get used to that. Ugh. I’d already used up my green-eyed monster hissy points when I’d gone off on them about Melissa a few weeks ago. No way could I go there about his damn company, too.

  Natalia?

  Hmmm?

  Yep. That worked. Smooth and nonchalant. I’m just kickin’ here, Mr. Newland. Iced tea and flip-flops and beachy chill. Pretending that every time you use my name like that, even in text, that I don’t want to crawl through the phone and climb every muscle in your body like a starving squirrel after nuts.

  His reply banished the squirrel. And just about every other thought in my head.

  I love you. No matter what. Don’t ever forget that.

  “You sappy lug.” I shook my head, roving reverent fingers across the words, once more hearing his thick growl in them. His feelings made their way to his surface on a circuitous route, meaning they’d picked up a lot of trail dust along the way. That often made them tougher to decipher, especially via text. I was sure I only imagined the sad tone beneath the gruff—and certainly ignored it while swiftly tapping my answer.

  And I you. Talk to you later.

  I tossed my phone onto the bed. Couldn’t help but sigh when I remembered their two big bodies in it, seemingly a lifetime ago. Another sigh erupted as I flopped back over the comforter.

  Lord. I was like a teenager with her first love. Damn dramatic, but I didn’t have a lot to go on. Gavin had never been much for texting—or calling—or talking, for that matter. It was so obvious to me what an asshole he’d actually been. Drake and Fletcher had made it clear, through the sheer force of their patience and love. Inhaling the bouquet of blooming roses on the nightstand—they sent a fresh bunch every three days, in different colors and species, all carrying different meanings—reminded me of it all over again. And confirmed that leaving Gavin was the best thing I’d ever done.

  The conviction clung, even as I remembered Papka and Mama’s reaction. We’re not mad, Natalia. Just disappointed.

  “Disappointed.”

  The universal ax given to all parents for making their kids feel three inches tall—if not failures to the most epic degree. Even with the inner healing I’d embraced about it lately, it was still impossible not to feel stabbed by their words. I’d probably never be what they wanted. That, I could finally face. But the woman I had grown into was someone to be proud of, not ashamed—and not a disappointment. Would they ever know me for who I was, not for who I wasn’t? Probably not, but maybe one day, seeing how Katrina toed the line on conforming to their ideal mold. But she didn’t let them see what I did, that she was miserable about it. She loved Anya with her whole soul, but hadn’t fulfilled every goal she’d wanted to achieve for herself—nor would she ever realize them. Moreover, I was pretty sure that Victor, her husband, was ‘keeping her in line’ in physica
l ways, too—but whenever I tried to bring it up, she angrily changed the subject.

  I wouldn’t end like that. I swore it with an intensity that gripped me to the marrow of my bones. The darkness of Gavin was behind me and I’d never revisit it again. I’d rather deal with a lifetime of disappointing Mama and Papka than another day of what he’d called tough love. I wondered what Victor called it with Katrina—then promptly shut the thought down. I could only keep trying to get through to her and hope that one day she’d be desperate enough to listen.

  Kick dirt over the shit—then walk away.

  I smiled, remembering the day Margaux had given me the gift of her advice. The woman was one of the strongest people I’d ever met, that opinion being cemented even more so after I’d learned the story of what had happened with her own family. She’d survived it all with courage, grace and style—and never let anyone put her down for it, either. It was crazy how accurately her words had pounded the nail on the head about Mama and Papka. I strove to grasp the advice, my spirit embracing how right it was. Life didn’t have a backspace key—so why would I let sludge and negativity continue to dictate the words of my story? As Margaux would say, I needed to drop-kick that shit. I didn’t want to have a life without my family in it, but if they couldn’t support my choices, it could possibly boil down to choosing between them and the men I loved.