Page 20 of Cursed to Love (Cursed to Love #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sunday, November 10

“O ne more, pl—” Emmie pleaded before her yawn cut her off.

Blake placed a kiss on Emmie’s forehead and stood. “Tomorrow.”

He raised his arms over his head and stretched. “You tuckered me out today.” He had looked after Emmie that afternoon so Paige could pop out to show a property because the client was only in town for the day.

Paige loved watching Blake and Emmie together. She still worried about being too vulnerable, and now she had the curse to worry about too, but Emmie was thriving having a father figure.

Blake pretended to yawn, then faked a snore while standing up, making big snorting noises. Paige had to put her hand over her mouth to smother her laugh.

“K,” Emmie yawned again. “Good night. I love you, Mommy. I love you, Blake,” she said as her eyes drifted close.

He leaned down and placed another kiss on Emmie’s forehead. “I love you too, kiddo,” he breathed quietly.

Loving a child was so much easier than putting yourself out there for a partner.

When Blake straightened, she wouldn’t have noticed his slight pause if she hadn’t been watching him. Should she reassure him that it was okay to love Emmie and that he didn’t have to love her too because she didn’t love him? She bit her lip, wishing she knew what to say. Why was it that she always thought of what to say in certain situations hours or days later?

Blake took a step toward her, and she tensed. Then he winked as he walked by her. “Meet you in the bedroom,” he whispered.

Paige blew out a breath, letting her tension escape with it, and made sure Emmie was tucked in. Even though Blake had already done it, she wasn’t ready to give up on her nightly routines. She gave her sleeping daughter a kiss. “Mommy loves you.”

Turning off the main light, she left the door ajar and hurried the few steps to Blake’s bedroom. Only the lamps on the nightstands were lit, the drapes closed, giving the room a soft warmth. Seeing Blake sitting on the wooden bench at the end of the bed, she felt a sense of contentment and happiness she hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

He held out his hand to her. “Come here.”

Placing her hand in his, she let him pull her between his legs.

“It’s Sunday.” He wiggled his brows, making her laugh.

“It is. Hmmm… ” She tilted her head as if pretending to think. “I believe the agreement said that Sunday is part of the weekend.”

“It is.”

He pulled her down for a kiss, and she fell right into his lap, letting out a giggle. “You scoundrel,” she mocked, waving her hand in front of her face like she was a fainting flower.

“Well, ma’am. If I’m a scoundrel, then I think I’ve soiled your person, so now I must get you clean,” he said in a horrible accent.

Blake stood, cradling her in his arms. She let out a small shriek before slapping her hand across her mouth. “Shhhh, don’t wake Emmie,” he said as he strode into the bathroom, and bumped the door closed with his hip.

He slid her down his body, then reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She helped him with his, and then they rid each other of the rest of their clothes.

Paige ran her fingers along his chest and turned toward the shower.

“Nope, not yet.” He gripped her hips and lifted her, setting her down on the long counter. Another small shriek erupted from her, but this time because of the cold granite countertop against her bare butt.

“We’re not having a shower?” she teased. “I thought you soiled me?”

He wiggled his brows at her. “Oh, baby, we’re going to have a shower, and I’ll get you all soapy and make you come. But since I’m not a fan of risking my neck during sex, we’re going to have sex right here. Brace your hands behind you, Paige.” His voice had taken on a husky tone. “I need to be inside you.”

Paige did as he directed and spread her legs on either side of Blake’s. He watched her, maybe waiting to see if she’d protest.

Not a chance. Leaning on one hand, she put her other between her legs and ran her two middle fingers through her folds. Already soaked and ready for him, she couldn’t resist egging him on. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she kept her eyes locked on his as she sucked her fingers clean.

“Fuck.” Blake grabbed her under her knees and pulled her butt forward. With just enough time to throw her hand behind her, she braced herself as he lifted her up and entered her in one thrust.

They both groaned but didn’t break eye contact as he pumped into her fast and hard. She locked her legs around him and hugged her heels into his butt, finding a rhythm with him.

“Oh, god!” An intense orgasm ripped through her, taking her by surprise.

“Fuck,” Blake repeated as he thrust into her again and held himself against her. He closed his eyes, and she felt his body vibrate as his orgasm crested and took him over the edge.

“Wow,” he said when he opened his eyes and looked at her.

She grinned. “A new word.”

He raised his brow in question, and she loved when he did that, and answered his unspoken question. “I was just commenting that ‘wow’ was a new word since you seemed to be reduced to only saying ‘fuck’ when we have sex.” She couldn’t keep a straight face and burst out laughing.

“Is that right, little miss ‘oh, god?’” He grabbed her around the waist, her ankles still wrapped around his butt, his softening cock still inside her, and carried her into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, they were in bed, now soapy clean and sated. Blake’s arm was wrapped around her, his front spooning her back. It was one of her favorite positions, cocooned in Blake’s warmth and comfort.

Tomorrow, reality would crash in, but for this moment, she could pretend that they were more than friends. That he wanted a wife and children, like they’d talked about years ago. And that she would never have to worry about losing herself while trying to please someone else.

“Tomorrow is Monday,” he whispered against her neck.

“You get an A plus, Mr. Akerman. You definitely know your days of the week.”

“Ha, funny woman.” He tickled her waist.

She squealed, something she’d done more tonight than she had in years, until he let go and pulled her back against him.

“It just means our weekend is over.”

“I know.” Mondays meant sleeping in separate beds. She didn’t offer to change their agreement, and neither did he. They hadn’t talked specifics about how long they could continue like this. Nor had they mentioned anymore about the curse, but then neither of them seemed to know what to say.

* * *

Thursday, November 14

The control over Blake’s body released. Flopping back in his office chair, he closed his eyes and dragged his hands down his face. He’d been taken back to 1811 to watch Mary and John fall in love and have their first child. Two more scenes closely followed. Their life on the farm was sparse, but the love between the two of them was plentiful. Blake had felt a warmth in his heart just from watching, as if their love was strong enough it could spread to others. Then America joined the fight in WW1 and John was conscripted.

Life continued for Mary as she raised her children and tended the farm. Each night she sat at her kitchen table and wrote a letter to John, telling him about her day. She spoke of her love for him and her faith that he would return to them safely. Until the day a soldier came with her local clergyman to deliver a telegram.

Her hand shook as she took the telegram. It held only one line: Deeply regret to inform you 475677 Private John Alfred Garrow Infantry officially reported killed in action between September 26 and September 30, 1918.

Blake didn’t know if he’d ever forget the sound of Mary’s scream that ripped from her as the telegram crumbled in her clenched fist.

Dropping his hands on his desk, he sat forward and jumped when he noticed Jake sitting in the chair across from him. “When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes ago. I saw when the trance released you but figured you needed time to process.” Jake lifted his chin toward the side of Blake’s desk. “I got you a cold bottle of water and a root beer; thought you might want one or both.”

“Thanks.” Blake uncapped the water and drained the bottle.

“You want to talk about it?” Jake asked.

“I don’t think it will help.”

“How frequently are you getting them now?”

“Daily.” The despondency in Blake’s voice may have been obvious, because Chewie got up from his spot on the floor beside Jake and lumbered over to him. Blake petted the big dog almost absently as Chewie offered his silent comfort.

Jake frowned. “Once a day?”

“More than that now.” He’d had one curse a day for the last two, but Mary and John were his second episode since the night before. Blake glanced at his watch to see it was four in the afternoon. The first episode had hit him at eight in the morning, eight hours before. If that held true for the next one, it would come around midnight. “Shit,” he whispered.

“What?” Jake asked.

“I haven’t been able to predict when the next episode will come because they’ve been coming at random times. The only thing I knew was that the times between were getting shorter. If they start coming more than once a day, could they come while I’m sleeping too?”

“Maybe they’ll just feel like dreams.”

“Maybe… But it’s not the events that worry me so much. It’s the feelings they evoke.”

“The sadness you’ve talked about?”

“That. And the despair.” Blake could see the worry on his friend’s face deepen, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about the curses. Nor could he force himself to fall in love with Paige, even if he wanted to. And that was the kicker, right there. He still wasn’t sure love was in the cards for him. Every time he considered it, he remembered how Paige had left him utterly shattered. For weeks, he’d walked around with a feeling of hopelessness and loss, as if Paige had taken a piece of him with her that day and he would never be whole again.

Regardless of how busy he’d been at the time, he’d needed her. Maturity and time had given him the insight to realize that he had neglected her, but not without reason. Instead of waiting for him to pay attention to her, he had needed her to support him. Perhaps, they had both been too young to understand what the other needed.

After Paige had left him, he’d been too caught up in his pain and responsibilities to look at the situation with an unemotional eye. Then he guarded his heart and moved on. Every now and then over the years something would trigger a memory of Paige, and he’d think about their time together and the breakup. And those same feelings of heartbreak would resurface, making him never want to risk it again if she left for a second time. Paige had told him that she never planned to fall in love again either.

Blake absently ran his fingers through Chewie’s fur, then met Jake’s gaze. “Some days all I can think about is the suffering that love caused everyone in the episodes.”

“Not everyone, and some of them chose that.”

Blake shook his head. “I don’t think anyone chose that heartache.”

“Sure, they did. Martha?”

“She loved George until the day she died.”

“Exactly.”

Confused, Blake stared at his friend. “I don’t get it.”

“Martha chose to love George until the end,” Jake said, emphasizing the word. “If she truly loved him, she probably couldn’t have just turned that off, but she could have chosen to love him and someone else as well. And what about the sailor?”

“His love and his brother betrayed him, but he did move on. He married and had children…” Blake recalled the final scene of Christopher and his wife. “Shit,” he whispered as realization dawned. “He didn’t give her his heart. He told her he had already given it to another.”

“Exactly. I get that they were heartbroken. On top of that, the sailor felt betrayed too. But neither of them chose to look for someone else to love. It may have seemed like they moved on with their lives, but a part of them was stuck in the past.”

Blake considered Jake’s words for a moment. Was he doing that? Was he stuck in the past and not moving on?

An unsettling feeling, something he couldn’t quite name, stirred in him. “You think I should just walk away from Paige? Leave her in the past?”

Jake snorted and sat forward, piercing him with a glare. “Jesus, you’re an idiot.”

“Thanks,” Blake said sarcastically.

“Don’t leave Paige in the past. You couldn’t even if you wanted to because she’s also your present. You need to leave the heartache in the past. That’s the only way you’re going to be able to open yourself up to love again.”

That was the one thing Blake had promised himself he would never do—open himself up again. Vulnerability had a direct path to heartache. If he let go of the past heartache, he’d open himself up to more. It could end up a never-ending cycle. “And if she leaves me again?”

“Then you deal with it. But what if she stays?”

“You’re not being realistic. Sometimes people don’t have a choice. Look at my mom and dad.”

“Your parents loved each other,” he countered.

“Yes, and then my dad died. My mom was heartbroken afterward and she never moved on,” Blake said, feeling satisfaction for making his point.

“I was there too, remember? I saw your mom, and I don’t think she wanted to move on, but her situation was different than Martha’s and the sailor’s. They were both young, but your parents had twenty years together… Yes, I get that’s not long compared to some marriages, but they had a whole life together, and they raised five boys. That may have been enough for your mom. Maybe she didn’t need to make another choice.”

Blake scrubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. He’d already opened himself up to Paige by inviting her and Emmie into his life. If they left now, he wasn’t sure how he would recover. Letting them in further could mean he’d end up as desolate as Mary after losing John in WWI. His heart might consider it a death, whether it was physical or not.

Jake stood and called to Chewie. “Blake. Don’t forget I saw you with Paige too. That was the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“I wasn’t the one who broke it off with Paige,” he said, not able to hold back the defensiveness.

“Fair. But maybe neither of you were ready back then. Now, you’ve been given a second chance. Not everyone gets that. Don’t be like Martha and let your past block your future.”

Blake wasn’t letting his past block his future. He was using it to protect his heart.