“Oh, I’m just a stay-at-home mom.”
His dad guffawed. “Just a stay-at-home mom? I don’t think so.” He wrapped his arm around her, tugging her close. “This woman runs the household and keeps everything under control. Once Andrew got older and more independent, she began doing charity work. Takes charge of whatever she sets her mind to.”
“Mom’s always been a strong leader,” said Andrew. “Independent and doesn’t need us men to take care of her.”
“I sure as hell don’t,” Clara said. Andrew and his father broke out in laughter.
“Always a spitfire,” Lincoln commented. “Andrew needs a woman in his life to do the same. Being a lawyer takes a lot of time, and I know my boy needs a strong woman by his side. I can see that fire in you, Ana. He’s lucky to have you.”
Was he? I didn’t really feel like the woman he described. But I wanted to be for Andrew.
The conversation seemed much deeper than I had anticipated, and I hid behind my water glass, almost choking when Andrew leaned in to my ear and whispered, “I would especially love a woman who can take control in the bedroom.”
I blinked, trying to get my face under control as he pressed his lips to my temple. Andrew had never been so forward and, while I would’ve usually enjoyed such public dirty talk, the words weren’t the ones I wanted to hear.
When I felt like I could hold a smile for enough time, I turned to look at him and he winked like he was giving me a prize of a lifetime. Because what woman wouldn’t want to feel in control of her sex life and of her man? What woman wouldn’t want to exhibit the kind of independence and confidence that radiated from his mom?
Me, that’s who. I was that woman.
I struggled to finish my meal, pushing the food around my plate until it was time to leave.
Andrew had rarely pushed anything sexual between us, and I assumed it was because he respected my need for distance. But I should’ve seen the change in him with the comment he’d made during lunch.
When he walked me to my door and leaned in to kiss me, pulling me into his chest, closer than before, I let him. I wanted to explore the possibility of any real desire between us. I opened my lips and moaned as his tongue brushed mine. I shoved my chest into his and dug my fingers in his hair. I gasped when his hand dragged up my ribs and settled on my breast. I pushed myself toward a desire I couldn’t reach when his thumb lightly brushed my nipple. But his light touch wasn’t enough. I was pushing too hard and he wasn’t pushing enough. His kisses softened and disappointment in myself sank deep in my bones.
I didn’t have the energy to wonder if my smile was convincing enough before I closed the door and said goodbye.
My body had failed me, not feeling anything when an amazing man touched me. It hadn’t been hard enough—painful enough—for me to experience the fire I so desperately needed.
My head hit the pillow, as the tears began to fall.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kevin
“Hey, Ana,” I answered my phone with a smile. That’s what usually happened when I saw her name on the screen of an incoming call. It faded, however, as soon as I registered the choked breaths and tearful stutters on the other end. “Ana? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Ke-Kev.” That was all she got out before her voice broke.
“Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Th-the hospital. It’s my m-mom.”
“Shit. Which one? I’m on my way.” I grabbed my keys and bolted, breaking every traffic law on the books to get to her faster. I hadn’t even asked what had happened, I’d just heard her shattered voice and knew she needed me.
My tires squealed around the last turn before I pulled into a parking space and ran in. “Hey,” I shouted at the receptionist. I hadn’t meant to, but I was out of breath and the panic made my words louder than I’d intended. She looked up with an irritated scowl, and I forced myself to take a breath and find my manners. “I’m sorry. My—” My what? Friend? Family? Fuck it.
“My girlfriend’s mom was brought in a little while ago, and I was wondering if you could direct me how to get there.” Her lips were still pinched. “Please.”
“Name?”
“Natasha Montgomery.”
Her scrolling search took forever, but eventually she found her. “She’s on the fourth floor in the oncology unit. Visiting ends in an hour,” she shouted at my retreating back.
The elevator moved at a snail’s pace, and I regretted not taking the stairs. Once it finally opened at the fourth floor, I bolted through the doors, only to come to a stop at finding my parents sitting in the waiting room. “Mom? Dad?”