Left (Left 1)

ng to come.” He roars as he releases his load into my mouth and I swallow him down, enjoying every drop. I kiss his tip and tuck him back in. I sit back on my heels. A seed of a different kind of happiness is planted. I’d all but given up on finding Mr. right. I wonder if he hasn’t been in front of me the entire time.

“Happy birthday, Houston.”

I stand and adjust my dress. “How about that movie, now?”

He runs his hand over his beard, throws his head back and lets out a loud belly laugh. “Holy shit, Liv.”

His laughter is infectious. I join in unable to hold back the joy bubbling up inside of me.

“You ready for your other present, yet?”

He wraps his arms around me and kisses my shoulder. “Are you okay with what happened?”

Communication and checking in is what a real man does. The differences between him and Anthony are staggering. Even before now, Houston always made sure I had what I needed. My heart races and my mouth goes dry. I’m out of my depth with this man. I nod unable to speak around the obstruction in my throat. This is the moment I’ve been waiting my entire life for. No one could be more my soulmate than, Houston. I force myself to relax as he opens his gift and we watch the movie. If he knows how I’m feeling, he’ll want to talk. It’s the last thing I want to do. Everyone wants to meet their soulmate, but no one talks about what they’ll do after that happens. Every serious relationship I’ve had has ended with cheating. It made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. After all, I’m the common denominator in each situation. It’s screwing with my head. I know Houston would never cheat.

He’s a straight shooter who’s seen the devastation dishonesty and unfaithfulness cause. I want to believe this will work, but the past is more than a chain of events that happens to us. It’s the tough moments we survive that change us forever, leaving behind scars, tendencies and idiosyncrasies we never thought we’d have. I can admit my faults. Being unlucky in love has left me guarded, skeptical, and cautious. Cheating is a shock and a slap in the face the first time. The second and third time, you begin to think maybe it's par for the course.

Each man I dated came from a different walk of like. Their backgrounds, nationalities, and jobs differed. Why they had the same flaw, I can’t say. The thirties are the new twenties these days, so maybe it can be written up as lack of character and lingering immaturity. Whatever the reason, the shackles are steel tightly clamped around my heart. I have to unlock the manacles before I can commit to the main seated beside me and be the significant other he deserves.

I spent a lot of time rebuilding myself from the ground up. Committing is my final hurdle to clear. The move ends, and he helps me stand.

“I’m guessing you work tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately. I get to present all my finding in a large meeting with our clients. Should be tons of fun.”

“Your sarcasm is so perfect, I’d think you were serious if I didn’t know you,” he says.

I laugh and playfully shove him. “Shut it. Walk me to the door so I can get home and crash. I need at least eight hours to deal with what I have coming my way.” He leads me through the house. “It’s almost eerily silent, isn’t it?”

“That’s cause we’re used to listening to three little people, twenty-four-seven,” he says.

“True. Apart, they’re not that loud, together, it’s a collective sound.”

“Yeah, they’re a collective all right,” he mutters.

Outside, he guides me to the car and opens the door. “Thank you for tonight.”

“I could say the same thing, Hous.” I pat the side of his face and step into the car before I do or say anything I’d regret. “Sweet dreams?”

“Sweet dreams, Livy.” His eyes are hooded, and I can tell his brain is going a mile a minute. There’s a hint of sadness that makes his eyes bluer than usual. He knows I’m not ready to go all in yet. That’s the thing about your best friend. They see you, strength, weaknesses and all, and they love you anyway.

Chapter Four

Houston

“We got a serious problem man,” Ollie says.

“What’s going on?”

“One of our models for the calendar just called and canceled.”

“What? She’s supposed to be here in a couple of hours.”

“I know, and I'm not sure I can get a replacement that easy. She had a certain look to her.”

“Call the agency.”

“We booked her outside of an agency. She’s independent. It was Lane, the African American pin-up.”