The Mixtape

“Em, I’m going to . . . I’m gonna . . .” Shit. I went to pull out, and she stopped me, gripping my neck in her hand, forcing me to lock eyes with her.

“I’m on the pill,” she whispered, and that was the only confirmation I needed before I sighed, unable to say any more words as the orgasm overtook me.

I released inside of her, and I felt her tremble against my skin. My body dripped in sweat as she breathed heavily from exhaustion.

“That was . . . ,” I said, breathing intensely and resting my forehead against hers.

“Exactly,” she sighed.

Perfection.

It was perfect.

We stayed there for a few moments before we made love again.

Our bodies mixed together the same way that our hearts were intertwined. I placed her on top of me and watched in amazement as she rode me in what felt like slow motion, her hips rising and falling to a tempo that was created solely for us. My hands sat against her waist as we moved as one, me sliding into her deep as she fell deeper against me every few seconds.

I groaned in pleasure and she moaned in desire. Her moans were the most beautiful sound in the whole damn world, and I loved it. I loved the sound of us, the taste of us, the rhythm of us. I loved the way that when she climaxed, I felt every piece of her shiver against me, making my own body grow closer to completion. I loved how she begged me to let her keep riding me. I loved how she owned my body, my mind, my soul.

I loved her.

I was falling in love with her so fast that it should have scared me, but instead I felt happy.

Happy . . .

I didn’t know I still knew how to feel that way.

Our songs that night tangled together, creating a remix of sorts. Her heart beat with mine, and as we fell asleep in one another’s arms, I felt as if we were creating something new. A brand-new mixtape, one that held our story.

I loved the sound of that.

32

EMERY

“We need to talk,” Mama said as she stood at my apartment door. I had no clue why she was standing in front of me, let alone how she knew where I lived. I’d only arrived home with Reese about an hour ago after leaving Oliver’s, and now Harper Taylor was there to dampen my mood.

“There’s nothing that we have to talk about,” I said, crossing my fingers. “How did you even find out where I live?”

“I’ve known where you’ve lived for years. Sammie told me ages ago. I just didn’t have a need to come to your doorstep until now.”

Reese came out of her bedroom and walked over to the front door. “Mama? Who’s that?” she asked, looking at the door. Then her eyes widened, and she hid behind my leg. “Is that the crazy lady again?”

Yes, Reese. Yes it is.

Mama leaned down so she was eye level with my daughter and gave her a big, fake smile. “No, sweetheart. I am your grandma.”

Reese’s eyes widened with excitement. “I have a grandma?”

I pushed Reese farther behind me and shot Mama a hard look. “Don’t speak to my child.”

Mama stood back up. “She’s not your child. Which is why I’m here.”

“You need to leave.”

“Not until we talk.”

“We have nothing in this world to talk about. And I will not have you disrespecting my daughter in front of me. So, if you don’t leave—”

“Sammie’s in the car downstairs,” Mama said, cutting me off. “With Theo.”

“What?”

“She’s downstairs, waiting in the car. She wants to talk to you, and I figured an arranged meeting at the diner down the street might be best so we can speak about our family issues.”

Family issues?

I snickered.

What family?

I moved over to the window facing the street, and to my shock, there Sammie was, sitting in the back of my parents’ car, with Dad sitting in the passenger seat. I walked back over to Mama, shaking my head. “What do you want to talk about?”

“It’s about Sammie’s mental health, and getting her what she needs. Can you stop with all the questions, Emery, and just listen for once in your life? We will discuss everything once we get there.”

I looked over to my daughter. “What about Reese?”

“What about her? Bring her along. I think it might be good for everyone.”

Over my dead body.

“I don’t want to talk about anything in front of her. Let me drop her off at my neighbor’s. Come on, Reese.” I took my daughter’s hand and took her over to Abigail’s apartment. I felt awful for even having to ask Abigail to watch my little girl again, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had a feeling in my gut that the conversation with my family wasn’t going to be all rainbows and roses, so I wanted to keep Reese as far away as possible from the conflict.