Page 20
CHAPTER 20
LILAH
“Does your mother even know you? I mean, she could have at least had this at The Sinclair.”
I laugh at Auden, who stands beside me. We take in the party before us, which is stuffed to the gills with her friends and very few people I actually know and like. It has Selene Maddison written all over it, not an ounce of Lilah Maddison to be seen. The flowers are all wrong, the dress code she insisted on is so not me, and I hate everything on the buffet table.
Everything about this party is the exact opposite of anything I could have possibly wanted.
“Not at all.”
My eyes land on Fox standing with his parents across the room. He’s sipping on what I know is a glass of sparkling apple juice, his dad has a beer from the open bar, and his mother is clutching her sweet tea like a lifeline. They’re all three laughing about something. I don’t know what, yet it still makes me smile.
Roy and Bonnie are everything I expected and then some. They’re kind and loving, and they clearly support their son no matter what he does, not that I know what that feels like. They’ve accepted me so easily it’s almost too much to handle sometimes because, after this party, I’m going to have to give it all up. I run my hand over the base of my throat, massaging the lump that’s settled there.
“How are you holding up?” Auden asks.
“I’m okay.”
“You sure? Because with the way you’re smiling right now, I’m worried you might crack.” She pokes at the grin on my face, and I glower at her, poking her back.
“Behave, Lilah,” my mother snaps from behind me, and I instantly bristle. “I mean, my god. Acting that way at your own engagement party and causing a scene. It’s absurd. And fix your hair.”
“My hair is fine, Mother,” I mutter, teeth gritted.
“Tell that to a mirror, dear.”
I square my shoulders back, ready to go toe-to-toe with her. I don’t care if she finds out this is all fake. I have officially had enough of this. I’m done being her puppet. I’m done playing her game. I am just done .
“Mother, I?—”
“Selene, there you are,” Fox says smoothly, cutting in at just the right time. My mother gives him that same smile she’s been giving him since day one. The one that says, I don’t like you, but I’m smiling so it looks like I like you, and once you turn your back, I’m going to talk shit about you and break you and my daughter up, then laugh all the way to the bank.
The fact that she still thinks Fox isn’t good enough for our family makes no sense to me. I’m the one who isn’t worthy of him.
Auden squeezes my arm and sends me a tightlipped smile before slipping away, Fox taking her place beside me.
“I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my parents. Is Deacon around?”
“Oh, he’s just right here.” She turns. “My love!” she calls out, but he’s too engrossed in a conversation—business, I assume— with one of his friends to pay her any attention. My mother sighs, then snaps her fingers. “Deacon!” she bellows.
That gets his attention—and nearly everyone else’s, too. Talk about causing a scene and being absurd.
My dad excuses himself and makes his way over to us.
“Sorry, my love. Got swept up talking numbers.” He looks down his nose at Bonnie and Roy. “And who is this, Lilah?”
Fox slips his hand into mine, squeezing it three times.
I’m right here.
I squeeze his back twice.
Thank you.
I clear my throat. “Mom, Dad, this is Roy and Bonnie Fox.” I turn to Fox’s parents. “This is my mother, Selene, and my father, Deacon.”
My mother’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she extends her hand as if she’s royalty and expects Fox’s parents to kiss it.
“Oh, now, now. We’re about to be family.” Bonnie throws her arms around my mother before she can protest, hugging her tightly like she’s an old friend and not standing stiffly in her arms. “It’s so wonderful to meet you,” the sweet Southern woman says.
“Hmm. Yes, wonderful indeed.” My mother’s words are cold, whereas Bonnie’s are warm, and she pats her back awkwardly.
Bonnie does the same to my father, and I have to smother my laugh at the surprise on his face. I’ll admit, I was shocked by Bonnie’s penchant for hugging as well, but the moment the woman put her arms around me, I felt nothing but calm. I can count on one hand the number of times my parents have genuinely hugged me, and never did I feel even close to what Fox’s mother’s hug invoked—safe, warm, and, above all else, loved. I don’t know if I’ve ever been held like that before. Except for maybe by…
I look up at Fox, who is having a hard time hiding his pleasure at my parents’ discomfort, too.
“Nice to meet you, Deacon,” Roy says, slinging his arm around me. “You’ve got a great gal here. Can make a mean biscuits-and-gravy breakfast.” He pats his stomach. “And she’s whip-smart, too. Did the crossword in the Times in under ten minutes. It usually takes me a full workday.”
My father raises his brows. “Well, that is impressive, Lilah. It’s too bad you’ve not put that to more use over the years.”
I feel Roy’s spine stiffen at my father’s words, and I get the feeling that while this big Southern man is as sweet as they come, he’s not afraid to protect the ones he cares about. In this case, that’s me.
“Thanks, Roy,” I tell him, laying a hand on his chest to hopefully help calm him down. “My father here collects antique furniture. You two might have something to chat about, given your line of work.”
“Are you a dealer?” my father asks, suddenly interested.
“I guess you could say that. I make furniture.”
My father’s bushy brows rise. “You make furniture? As in you design it?”
“And build it with my own two hands.”
Their conversation takes off from there, and feeling like I’ve done my duty, I take the opportunity to slink away, checking in on Fox, who is standing between our mothers as Bonnie explains her shifts at the hospital—twelve hours, three days a week, even on holidays. It’s something my mother can’t even fathom. I tip my chin at Fox, and he grins at me, then excuses himself, leaving them to chat.
“My mother looks bored as hell,” I say to him as we walk a few feet away.
“Don’t worry. My mama can charm anyone, even the coldest of cold.”
“Selene Maddison is another level of cold.”
Fox huffs. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
Even though Fox and I have shown her we are nothing but a loving couple, my mother is still convinced he’s beneath her and finds a way to insult him whenever I talk to her. Of course, he takes it like a champ, but I hate it all the same.
“Dude! You’re getting married!” Lawson slings his arm around Fox’s shoulder, ruffling his hair. “And I’m your best man!”
“He’s your best man?” I ask Fox, though I don’t know why.
There is no best man. He knows it, and I know it too. We haven’t talked about how this party means the end. We haven’t even talked about how we’re going to break up or when. We just know this is it. That was the deal, right?
But now that it’s here… Well, I don’t know how I feel about it.
“Sure am.” Lawson smiles proudly, dragging me back to the present. “And look, I know Auden’s like your bestie and all, but if you could do me a solid and pick Rory as your maid of honor, I’d really appreciate it. I’m pretty sure Hutch would saw my nuts off if I had to slow dance with his gal.”
“With a rusty spoon,” says the man in question, strolling up with a glass of whiskey in hand, two ice cubes floating jauntily, and Auden on his arm.
She hands me a glass of champagne with a wink. “Looks like you need it.”
She’s right. With this party, I might have to rethink my recent no-booze stance.
“How do you even saw with a spoon, Hutchy?” Lawson’s still grinning as Rory fits herself against his side like it’s her rightful place.
They all look so…well, in love. Like couples. And I don’t want to gag at the sight of it. I don’t even want to call them fools.
What the hell is happening to me?
“You okay?” Fox asks, his own arm curling around my waist. I instantly settle back against him, and all my anxiety disappears with his simple touch.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”
And I am good. Sure, I’m at my engagement party with my fake fiancé holding me in his arms and I’m having a mild internal freakout because this whole thing with Fox has turned me into some weirdo who doesn’t recoil at the idea of love, but still. I’m good.
At least I hope I am.
“For crying out loud, push your shoulders back, Lilah Jane. Stop slouching.”
I haven’t slouched once this evening, yet it doesn’t stop my mother from picking me apart. I’m not sure why I expected the night of my engagement party to be any different, but I hoped she’d lay off for once in my life.
Still, I find myself pushing my shoulders back even more as a photographer—one I didn’t even know she hired—snaps photos of Fox and me toasting the gathered crowd, our parents on either side of us. The flash from the camera is blinding, and I swear the only thing getting me through it is Fox’s hand on my waist, holding me steady. Everyone around us cheers, and we’re finally freed from our hostage situation.
“You smile like a crazed woman,” my mother says through a grin.
That’s rich coming from her.
She turns on her heel and marches away, her nose upturned the whole way.
“Well, isn’t she just a ray of fucking sunshine.” Fox glares after her, his jaw pulsing.
Bonnie smacks her son’s arm. “Arthur Francis Fox, be nice! I raised you better than that.” But even I can tell by her tone that she agrees with her son.
Aside from my mother being the frigid woman she is, this party has actually been…well, nice. Sure, I’ve had to remind myself several times that it’s all for show, and soon, this fake relationship with Fox will be a thing of the past. I’ll go back to either being harassed by my mother or well on my way to becoming the bitter old woman she swears I’ll become, but it’s nice all the same.
Someone tugs on the back of my long, cream-colored dress, and I turn to find Flora, Hayes’s adorable niece, standing behind me. I bend to match her height.
“Well, hi. How are you, Miss Flora?”
“I like your dress, Ms. Lilah.”
“Thank you. Your dress is gorgeous, too,” I tell her, trying not to laugh at the pickle pattern dotting the fabric. “Did you pick it out?”
She nods, smiling softly. “Uncle Adam and Just Quinn took me shopping and said I could get whatever I wanted.” She points to Quinn and Hayes where they’re standing next to Lawson and Rory.
I don’t even think they realize they’re doing it, but her uncle and former nanny take turns casting glances over here to check on her. It’s cute. I know the little girl has had a rough life, but damn, is she loved now.
Quinn shoots me a wave, and I smile at her.
“There you are, you little turkey,” Lawson says, coming up behind her and tugging on one of her braids. “You were supposed to be stealing me a cookie, remember?”
“Stealing’s bad, Uncle Lawson!” she says through giggles.
“Yeah, but you’re all cute and shit. They don’t care if kids do it.”
“Go get your own cookies, Lawson,” Fox says, “and stop encouraging a life of crime.”
“What the hell else are kids for?” he grumbles, taking Flora’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go steal ’em together.”
The kid giggles again, and they scurry off to cause havoc. I push to my full height, only slightly worried about what’s in store for the dessert table. I’m sure Flora will keep him in check.
“Well, that was precious,” Bonnie says, her hand over her heart as her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“Mama…” Fox warns. “Don’t be getting ideas. You know this.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She nods, then sighs. “It’s just… Well, you two look so good together. And a mother has dreams for her kids, you know? She wants them to find love and happiness, and I swear I see that you…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. Just ignore me.”
Bonnie gives me a long look, then pats her son on the cheek before disappearing into the crowd of people I hardly know.
“Hey,” Fox says, his hand on my elbow. “I’m sorry about that. She knows our…” He peeks around to make sure nobody is listening in. “Our arrangement. I don’t know why she said anything like that.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
But…it doesn’t feel okay exactly. In fact, this whole party is starting to not feel okay. Like too much. Like the whole room is closing in on me. Like I can’t breathe. Like I might pass out at any moment.
“Whoa,” Fox says, grabbing my other elbow as I sway. “Lilah. Hey, hey.” He sets me straight. “You okay?”
I nod, but it’s not very convincing when it takes every ounce of energy I have to do so. Fox notices.
“Come on, sugar.” He wraps his arm around me and leads me away from the party, somehow knowing what it is I need without me saying a word.
Of course he does. He’s Fox. He always knows what I need without me telling him.
He tugs me into a small room that looks like a supply closet, pulling on a light hanging overhead, the bulb swaying back and forth, and the only thing I can focus on is how I haven’t seen a light like that in ages. My mother rented a big, fancy room at the top of a five-star hotel, yet the closets don’t even have proper lighting.
Fox sets his sparkling apple juice aside, then takes my untouched champagne from my hand and puts it next to his. Then he gathers me in his arms, pulling me close, my face buried against his chest until all I can smell and think of is him, him, him.
He rubs my back as I focus on my breathing, trying to calm myself. I think I’m having a panic attack, and I’ve never had a panic attack before. Why am I freaking out right now? Why am I having such a hard time?
“I got you, sugar,” he says softly, and it takes me back to the last time he said those words, when he was pounding into me, and I remember how good it felt to just let go. I want to let go like that again.
Suddenly my fingers are desperately moving against the buttons on his crisp white shirt. I need to touch him, need to feel him against me. I simply need him. I lean forward, pressing my lips to his chest, kissing the skin I’m exposing button by button. He groans as I kiss him, his fingers flexing tightly against my waist where they’ve fallen. I tug his shirt from his pants, then drop my busy hands to his belt, undoing it with ease.
He stops me when I reach for his zipper. “Hey, hey, hey. Hang on. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Fine,” I say, pressing another kiss to the base of his throat as I unsnap his dress pants. “Just want you.”
I drag his zipper down, and he hisses when I slide my hand into his boxer briefs and grip his cock, stroking it just the way I know he likes. He’s hard and hot and heavy in my palm and I want to taste him just as badly as I want to feel him inside me.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “God, that feels good.”
I stroke him again, moving my lips up his throat and over his chin until my mouth is on his, and then it’s like something takes over him and he can’t keep his hands off me either. He slips his tongue between my lips, his hands crashing into my hair as he takes control of our kiss, my hand still between us as I jack him. He drags his hands down my sides and over my waist, pulling my dress up inch by agonizing inch until I feel the cold air hit my bare skin. It takes him palming my ass for him to realize my surprise.
He yanks his mouth from mine. “You’re not wearing any underwear?”
I shake my head with a grin. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“Fuck.” A kiss. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants against my lips, which I have no doubt are already swollen.
Then he hauls me into his arms, and my back is pressed against I don’t even know what, and I don’t care, not even when it digs into my back. I welcome the pain. I need it. His own hand replaces mine as he grips himself and lines it up with my already slick pussy. We groan together as he presses the head of his cock inside me.
“Fuck,” he says again, and I want to make a joke, ask him if he knows any other words, but I don’t. I can’t, especially when he slips inside me further, stretching me so wide and so perfectly that I need more.
“I can’t believe how good you always feel,” he says, his lips on my throat. “Never going to tire of it.”
“Me either,” I tell him as he sinks even deeper, my nails digging into his scalp as I hold him close, not wanting an ounce of space between us.
He groans when he finally pushes in fully, then he backs out slowly. He doesn’t move. He just holds himself there, his breath quick in my ear.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and I note how hoarse his voice has grown.
“Sorry?” What does he have to be sorry for? Because it certainly can’t be this. Not when he feels so fucking good even when he’s not moving.
But he doesn’t explain. He fucks into me again, just as unhurriedly. It’s painfully slow, and I want more, yet I can’t seem to make myself ask for it when I usually have no problem being vocal and telling Fox what I want.
We maintain the excruciatingly slow pace. Over and over again, dragging us both closer to the edge as the party goes on around us. I can hear people talking, and the music, which is so not my taste, plays softly in the background. Lawson’s loud laugh echoes. I hear someone else say something loudly. A pair of feet pass right outside the door.
Yet, even though I know we should be out there right now, none of it matters. Not as Fox continues to rock into me, as I hold on to him like he’s going to vanish before my eyes.
“Gonna come,” Fox says. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
“Do it,” I tell him. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“You first.” He wedges his hand between us, rubbing my clit in hurried circles.
It’s everything I didn’t realize I needed, and I’m coming in just a few touches, my pussy clenching around him and urging him on. Fox loses all restraint, slamming into me until there is no doubt I’m going to have a bruise on my back that matches whatever it is I’m pressed against.
“Lilah, Lilah, Lilah,” he says, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. “Fuck. I love you.”
Fuck. I love you.
I love you.
Love.
His once rhythmic movements stutter, and it’s the only sign that he really just said what I thought he did. He recovers the fumble quickly, and his thrusts return to the same delightful pace as before. When his hand digs hard into my ass cheek, I know he’s close, and just a moment later, he stills. I feel him empty himself inside me, and he drops his head into the crook of my neck, our uneven breaths filling the silence between us.
His lips ghost over my collarbone in sets of three.
Kiss.
I.
Kiss.
Love.
Kiss.
You.
He does it again and again, and it does nothing to help settle my heart rate that seems to be at an all-time high. That same feeling I had out in the ballroom slams into me all at once. The room feels so small. Fox now feels too close, and I’m working far too hard for each breath I take.
Kiss.
I.
Kiss.
Love.
Kiss.
You.
I need to move. I need to go, need to be anywhere else than here right now. I shove at Fox, and he jerks away instantly, his oak gaze finding mine.
“Lilah?” he asks, likely seeing the wild look in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to… I need to… I can’t…”
He slips out of me, and I groan at the loss of him. He sets me back on my feet, tucking himself back into his pants as I drag my dress back down, trying to ignore the fact that I can feel his cum leaking down my leg, a reminder of what just happened between us.
I love you.
“Hey, what’s—” I hold my hand up when he takes a step toward me, and it kills me to see his brows crush together.
But not as much as it kills me to hear those three words still crashing through my mind.
I love you.
“Why did you say that?”
He swallows, dragging his hand over his clean-shaven jawline. “Shit,” he mutters, exhaling heavily before finding my stare again. “Because I?—”
“Don’t.”
His brows furrow. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t say it,” I beg. “Please don’t say it again.”
He clenches his jaw. “Why not?”
“Because you can’t.”
“I can too.”
I shake my head. “We said it was fake. We said this wasn’t real. We had a deal.”
He nods. “You’re right. We did have a deal, Lilah. We said this was just for fun, said we’d break it off after the party. But, fuck, I don’t want to, okay? Something changed along the way for me. I fell for you. I fell for your laugh and your smile and the fact that you love to eat and drink everything out of a mug. You think butter pecan is the superior flavor when we all know it’s for old people. You’re smart and strong and so fucking capable of doing anything, and all I can do is stare in awe. You take control and you’re not afraid of what you want. You make me feel good. When I told you I collect turtle figurines, you didn’t laugh at me. When I told you I struggle to read, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead you picked up a book and you read for me. You make me feel like I’m on top of the world no matter what.” He rolls his tongue along his bottom lip and exhales. “I don’t want to break it off. I don’t want to go back to being acquaintances. I don’t want to go back to barely knowing you. I want this. I want what we’ve built these last few months. I want you . For real this time.”
My head moves back and forth as Fox takes a step toward me. I take one back but run right into something big, and I peek behind me.
Huh. It’s a filing cabinet. So that’s the cause of the bruise I feel forming along my back.
But that’s not what matters right now. Not when Fox reaches out, tucks his fingers beneath my chin, and pulls my eyes to his.
“I’m sorry I broke the rules. I really am. But I’ll be damned if I say I’m sorry for loving you because I’m not. I am in love with you, Lilah Jane, and I refuse to apologize for it.”
I am in love with you, Lilah Jane, and I refuse to apologize for it.
My head swims, my vision going fuzzy at the edges until all I can see are the brown eyes I’ve spent so much time staring into as of late. The same eyes that lock on to me at a game after he makes an incredible save. The same ones that bore into me as he makes love to me. The same ones I can feel on me as we sit on my couch and watch horrible television even though I know he hates it. And the same ones I’ve spent so much time trying to tell myself I don’t love.
I am in love with you, Lilah Jane, and I refuse to apologize for it.
I look right into them, and I say the only thing that comes to my mind.
“Oh.”