Pretty Ever After (Chicago Nights Book 3) Page 13

  “No, no!” Mom slaps my shoulder. “Put that tone away. It’s Christmas!”

  I grimace. “I don’t have a—”

  “Christmas!”

  She throws up her hands and bolts toward the front foyer to greet a group of guests, abandoning the carnage she created. But that’s Francie Rose for you.

  Robbie steps forward. “Mel...”

  I turn away. “Excuse me.”

  “Wait—”

  “Hey, Robbie! Buddy!” Trix hooks his arm, stopping him from following me. “Come check this out!”

  Thank you, Ms. Argento.

  Twenty

  Melanie

  I continue out of the room into the foyer, keeping my head down in case someone tries to start up a conversation with me. Voices fade off as I quickly skip up the grand staircase and take a hard left down the hall toward my bedroom. Strange. I guess the habit to hide during one of my parents’ parties will never truly die, no matter how old I get.

  I push open the door and close it behind me, relishing in the sweet silence. I place my back against the door and take a deep breath. I hold it until I can’t anymore and let it out before flicking the light switch.

  The bedside lamp turns on, illuminating the corner and little else, but that’s how I’ve always liked it up here. I scan the darkened room, full of my old things that feel like they belonged to someone else in another life, someone with optimistic dreams of their future.

  I plop down onto my old bed.

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. That tickles!”

  I smile as I shift to the side and pluck the Wumbo Tickle doll out from under me. “Sorry, Wumbo,” I say as I straighten his shirt and set him down next to my pillow.

  There’s a knock on the balcony window. I jolt in surprise at the ominous shadow lingering behind the glass.

  I inhale to scream.

  “Mel, let me in! It’s fucking freezing.”

  I hold my breath, pausing as I see Robbie’s face through the glass.

  “Robbie,” I scold as I rush to unlock the doors. He stomps the snow off his shoes before stepping inside. “What are you doing?”

  “I figured you’d be up here,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Because you always escape up here during your parents’ parties.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, yeah, but why did you sneak in through the balcony. And also, how?”

  “Well, I snuck out the window of the first floor bathroom and then I climbed the tree to get to your balcony.”

  “That tree is climbable?”

  “Not easily.”

  I nod, genuinely impressed.

  “As for the former question,” he continues, straightening his blazer, “any idea why Trix is being extra clingy tonight? Because I practically had to pry her off me to get her to let me take a piss by myself.”

  “Ah, well...” I close the balcony doors behind him with a sigh. “Nora and Trix are on a mission tonight.”

  “What kind of mission?”

  “To… keep you away from me.”

  Robbie cants his head, amused. “Why exactly are they doing that?”

  I walk past him to sit down on the bed again. “Apparently, Itold them to physically restrain me if I ever showed an interest in you again.” I shrug a shoulder. “They’re just doing their part to keep me honest.”

  “Ahh...” He smiles. “Does that mean you didn’t tell them how you spent your snow days?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Should I take that personally?”

  I shake my head once. “No.”

  “You don’t want them to know because they’ll gloat,” he says.

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “You’re probably right.” He nods, satisfied. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  “Thank you.”

  We linger here for a moment, falling into a quiet, comfortable silence we’re suddenly so used to again.

  “Before,” Robbie says, breaking it.

  I look up at him. “Before what?” I ask.

  He takes a deep breath. “I told your parents about my treatment before I told you. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I understand why you didn’t.”

  “It’s just that they helped me out a lot in the beginning,” he says. “After you kicked me out, I mean.”

  “They did?”

  “They… helped pay my rent the first few months, actually.”

  “Oh,” I say, letting that sink in. “Boy, Mom really can keep a secret…”

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t think it’d make you mad.”

  “I’m not mad. Don’t even know why I got upset, it just...”

  Robbie sits down beside me. “What?”

  I exhale softly. “It seems like, somehow, in the midst of everything that happened between us, I came out the bad guy.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Nora certainly thinks so. My parents had your back behind mine this whole time. You hawked your wedding band to pay for a secret bar tab, but they still like you more. You’re still the cool guy.”

  “Well, have you tried wearing a leather jacket?” he jokes. “Because that’s Cool Guy 101.”

  “No, never tried that.”

  “A few tattoos wouldn’t hurt, either.”

  “Stop it,” I say, smiling.

  “I don’t know how to break this to you, Mel, but you’ve never had what one would call a charming personality.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Shocking, I know.”

  “And all those times you called me a bitch, you were just praising me for being so likable?” I ask, amused.

  “Me stooping low enough to do that says more about me than it does about you.”

  I look down at my hands in my lap. “Maybe.”

  He clears his throat. “You know what I have to say about this?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Fuck ‘em.”

  “Fuck ‘em?”

  “Yeah, fuck ‘em,” he repeats. I laugh. “What do they know? I love you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

  “More lessons from Cool Guy 101, huh?” I ask.

  “No, that’s more of a 102 thing.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  “Gotta master the look first, then the attitude.”

  “My mistake.”

  He smiles. “And, in case you missed it, I just said I loved you.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “You didn’t even flinch.”

  “I’ve heard that a lot, I guess.”

  “Melanie, I said a lot of things when we were together, called you a lot of names I didn’t mean, but I always meant it when I said I loved you.”

  I look into his eyes, all bright and swoony. “Damn,” I say. “That was good.”

  He exhales at the ceiling. “And you are the queen of detecting bullshit, as usual.”

  “That’s just Vapid Bitch 101,” I joke.

  “I always liked that about you,” he says.

  I snort. “No, you didn’t.”

  “You’re right. Such a bitch move.”

  We laugh. We shouldn’t, but we do.

  Not sure why I’m so surprised. It’s always been him and me against the world. Why would now be any different?

  Robbie pauses, his smile fading as his eyes fall to my lips. It’s a subtle gesture, but one strong enough to make my chest quiver like it did downstairs.

  He tilts his head as he leans in for the kiss.

  I turn away before we touch. “Rob...”

  His face screws up. “I thought that was a moment,” he says, regretful.

  “It was, but...” I stand up off the bed. “We shouldn’t.”

  I wait for him to argue like he did this morning, to list off even more of my own books to prove me wrong, but he nods instead.

  “All right,” he s
ays as he stands.

  I blink twice as he steps away from the bed. “All right?” I repeat.

  “All right,” he says again.

  “That’s all?”

  “What else is there?”

  “Nothing. I just thought it’d take more convincing, that’s all.”

  Robbie smiles. “Mel, I’m never the one who needs convincing.”

  I raise a brow. “What?”

  His smirk remains as he slides his blazer off and carefully drapes it over the chair by my desk.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He shrugs and says nothing as he opens the cuffs of his shirt.

  I deflate. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” he asks.

  He rolls up his left sleeve.

  “That,” I say, pointing at it.

  He tucks it up just below his elbow and moves to the right cuff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

  “The forearm thing!”

  He rolls up the second sleeve, revealing the black tattoos along his forearm. “Oh,” he says, briefly flexing, “this forearm thing?”

  “Duh! Yes!”

  I cross my arms, the only protective armor I have while I try to look anywhere except his amazing arms. Nothing gets me more revved up than a good-looking man with his sleeves rolled up, ready to get the job done. I like it so much, I put this exact scenario in every single one of my books.

  Robbie knows that.

  He steps forward again.

  I step back. “Don’t...”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Why?” he asks, disobeying. “Are you afraid of what I’ll do? Or of what you’ll do?”

  “Both!”

  He smiles again. “Interesting. Then you agree.”

  “Agree with what?”

  “That it’s not me, it’s you,” he says. “You want me.”

  “I want the idea of you.”

  He stops one short pace away from me. “What idea is that? Pleasant, no strings attached sex with a man you know? A man who knows you, inside and out? Who knows your body and can give it exactly what it needs? That idea?”

  I pause. “Is that what you want?”

  He leans closer, his warm breath grazing my neck as he plants both hands on either side of me, trapping me between him and the wall.

  “What I want...” his lips touch my cheek, “is to taste that sweet cunt again.”

  My heart skips.

  “I want to feel your pussy squeeze my cock as I’m filling you full of cum.” He lingers less than an inch away from my lips. “I want you to say my name every time you—”

  I kiss him, unable to control myself.

  Robbie doesn’t fight it. He wraps his arms around me, our lips locked in the shadowed corner. I grab him by the shirt to pull him closer and he presses his body against mine. I feel his erection digging into my hip as he cups my ass and raises me up. My ankles dangles a few inches above the floor as he takes the few steps back to the bed. He drops me onto it. I shift backward to lie against the pillows as he climbs on top of me. He crushes his mouth on mine, stealing several heated kisses as he reaches beneath my skirt. I spread my knees, feeling his strong fingers push the panties aside. He puts firm pressure on my clit, gently teasing me as he tickles my entrance without going inside.

  I gasp and squirm. I buck my hips, hoping to coax him inside, but he refuses. Robbie holds me down. He kisses me slowly, his teasing lips as vicious as his rub. I enjoy every second. From his firm kiss to his toned arms to the way his entire body clenches with the need to fuck me.

  I moan. “Robbie...”

  He slaps his other hand over my mouth. “Shh,” he says, grinning in the dark. “Someone might hear you...”

  I laugh against his palm.

  “No moaning,” he says. “Only good girls get to moan.”

  He slides half a finger inside. I try to smother my sounds of pleasure, but I’m so close, so taken by his command.

  “Are you my good girl, Melanie?” he whispers, rugged and wild. “Are you gonna take my thick load like a—”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. That tickles!”

  Robbie grabs the doll beneath my head. “Fuck off, Wumbo!” he growls as he tosses it to the floor.

  I cover my mouth, unable to stop the fit taking over my gut. Robbie pauses, his lips twitching as he tries to go back into his character, but he can’t.

  “Dammit,” he says.

  “It’s okay,” I say, snorting. “What were you saying about your thick load?”

  He cracks up, collapsing against my chest as he laughs even harder. We laugh together, the mood more than officially ruined by a damn childhood toy.

  Robbie falls onto his side next to me, his hand abandoning my panties. He lingers close, his laughing mouth hovering near mine for just a bit longer. “Come to my place tonight,” he says. “After the party.”

  I hesitate, temptation twisting my gut. “No,” I say.

  “Fine, I’ll go to yours.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Rob, we really shouldn’t.”

  “We really should.”

  “Sam,” I quip.

  “Diane.”

  I chuckle. “What are we even doing here?”

  “Having fun,” he answers.

  “Is that really all it is?”

  “It doesn’t have to be, but I’m in for some fun if you are.” He licks his lips. “Mel, how about this? Tonight, you are cordially invited—”

  “Wait, cordially?”

  “To my place for hot, nasty sex.”

  “How did you even pronounce that right on the first try?”

  “Far away from judgmental family and friends and… childhood toys,” he adds with a glare toward the floor.

  I snort again.

  His smirk never stops. “You can accept this invitation, or... you can leave this party, go home, and...” He grimaces. “Sleep alone.”

  “I think you’re underestimating how great that sounds,” I say. “I love sleeping alone. I get to sprawl out, hog the blanket—”

  “Mel.”

  “I can fart as much as I want.”

  He shrugs. “You can do that in my bed, too.”

  I sigh. “Oh, marital intimacy. How I’ve missed you so...”

  “Come to my apartment,” he says, his voice growing deeper with every word, “and we’ll have some fun.”

  It’s more than a little tempting, for sure. But I meant it when I said that last night was the last night I’d spend with Robbie Wheeler. Sure, it’d be easy to dive back in with no strings attached, but when I fall for Robbie, I fall hard. If this truly is a new and improved Robbie, then I won’t be able to help myself.

  And that will just make leaving Chicago even harder than it already is.

  I lick my lips. I kiss his cheek. I put pressure on his chest as I lean forward and stand up.

  “No,” I say again. “I’m sorry, Robbie, but...”

  He nods. “No,” he repeats, looking disappointed, but accepting.

  I give myself a quick once over before escaping into the hallway.

  Twenty-One

  Melanie

  I’m doing the right thing.

  I’m doing the right thing.

  So, why do I feel so crappy?

  I stare at my mimosa on the table, but I haven’t touched it yet. I’ve been locked in an endless thought spiral since last night. I made the right call; I know I did. Robbie and I starting again would be an unmitigated disaster, but...

  Still.

  I can’t shake this wretched feeling from my stomach.

  “Where did you disappear to last night?”

  I glance up with the sound of Trix’s voice gently rising over the soft murmur of the Sunday morning Moira’s crowd.

  “What? When?” I ask.

  “At the party,” she says, squinting. “You ran off after your little spat with Robbie and I didn’t
see you for a while.”

  “Right, yeah.” I look at the empty chair beside us. Still no Nora yet. It’s not like her to be late. “I went upstairs to my old room. I just needed some time alone.”

  “Alone with Robbie?” she asks, clearly knowing more than she’s letting on.

  I chortle. No sense in hiding what she’s already figured out. “Yeah,” I say. “He made an appearance.”

  Trix stares, her eyes dark and accusatory. “And?” she asks.

  “No ands,” I lie. “He gave you the slip, came upstairs, and we talked. He apologized for some stuff and that was that.”

  “Sounds like a mature turn of events.”

  “Yup.” I nod. “All very mature.”

  “Good.” She sips her orange juice. “Good, good, good.”

  Right. Good.

  And yet...

  I take a drink from my flute, but the elixir of bubbles and fruit just ain’t as satisfying this morning. I can’t shake that look on Robbie’s face. How he went from lovesick hurt to sadness to acceptance so quickly. Mature is definitely the word for it. Old Robbie would have shouted and bartered and begged, but he made his case and he accepted my judgment. He came downstairs a few minutes after me and he was the same old likable Robbie, chatting up my family and friends and keeping a respectable distance from me.

  I did the right thing.

  But I still feel like crap.

  “Where’s Haley today?” I ask, happily distracting myself.

  “She’s probably sleeping in,” Trix answers with a grin. “The girl didn’t come home until the wee hours this morning.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Is there a boy?”

  “Of course there’s a boy!”

  We laugh, living vicariously through a teenage girl.

  “And how does Lance feel about that?” I ask, curious.

  “Well…” Trix sips from her water glass. “He’s in some denial.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “But it’ll be okay. He’s just being a dad. My dad was the same when I first started sneaking around with boys.”

  “Mine, too,” I recall.

  “I told Lance to be cool,” she says. “She’s an adult, she’s going to do adult things. The weirder he is about it, the less she’ll trust him. And Haley’s a smart girl. He just has to trust that he raised her to make good choices.”