Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (91 page)

She loves me. She chooses me. Every single day.

I thrust my tongue into her mouth and she sighs. Only Teddy could make my dick hard with a single
breath
. When she squeezes her legs around me once more, I begin to crave a whole lot more than this kiss. I don’t even think about denying myself as I reach for her legs, unhooking them from around me before my hands find the top of her little, cotton shorts. As I begin to tug them off, she presses her hands against the countertop, lifting her hips in an effort to help me.

When her shorts and her panties hit the floor, I make quick work of my belt. Her hands undo the button of my pants, and I handle the zipper as she slips her fingers under the band of my boxer briefs. She grabs hold of my cock, pulling it out just as my lips find hers once more. We don’t speak. We don’t have to. She guides me to where she wants me, rubbing my head up and down the length of her slit, coating me in her arousal before she holds still. The sound she makes when I take over, easing my way inside of her, it says it all.

I’m still the king of her motherfucking world.

Four Years Later

“B
abe!” Louie calls from the living room, where I left him to binge watch ESPN, like he does every Sunday afternoon. “Your phone. It’s Teddy—she’s FaceTiming you.”

“Answer it, will you? I’ll be out in a second.”

I fold the last shirt in our pile of clean laundry and decide to leave the task of putting it all away for later. I hurry out of the laundry room, making my way down the stairs. Anxious to see the face of my best friend, I wonder—for the
millionth
time—why I let Louie talk me into buying a three story townhouse. While we’ve managed to fill it just fine, I still argue that we don’t need all this damn space.

“Hi, Uncle Louie.” I hear the precious sound of our angel’s voice and I grin as I hurry to join my husband on the couch.

“Hey, cupcake!” he greets in return. When I take the seat beside him, he beams at me, his bright green eyes shining in excitement. “She called all on her own.”

“She—
what?
She’s three and a half years old.”

“She’s a genius, is what she is.”

“Who are you talking to? My daddy?” she asks, her voice hitching up an octave as she says
daddy
.

“No, Little Freckles, it’s me.”

Louie holds the phone so she can see us both, and I wave at her.

“Uncle Geoff!”

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Um—looking for daddy. Is he there?”

“No, baby, he’s not here,” I tell her.

The frown she gives me in response about breaks my heart. She’s such a happy, gentle, kindhearted little girl—everything I imagined she would be. With a mother like hers, I just knew that she would be an angel. Looking at her now is a reminder of how long it’s been since I’ve held her in my arms. Christmas seems so long ago, and I swear she’s already grown more beautiful. She doesn’t know it, but we’ll be out there in a couple of weeks—Andy, Carrie, and Steven, too. It’s the thirtieth anniversary of Theodora Day, and we plan on surprising her with a huge ass party.

“Where’s your mommy, cupcake?”

“She had to go potty,” she replies with a pout.

“Did she pick out the dress you’re wearing today?” I ask, trying to find something that’ll make her smile again. “It’s
very
pretty.”

“Thank you,” she says politely, a sweet smile lighting up her face. She brushes a lock of hair out of her face as she tells us, “I went to Sunday school. I learned to sing. Want to hear?”

Louie and I grin at each other before we both offer her an enthusiastic nod.

“Let’s hear it.”

When I come out of the bathroom, making my way into the main room, my heart melts as I listen to Frankie sing
Jesus Loves Me
. There’s nothing greater than the sound of her little voice. It’s even better when she forgets some of the words, humming the tune instead, as if it were meant to be sung just the way she sings it. It isn’t until I round the couch that I see she’s sitting with my tablet in her lap. She’s kicked off her shoes, and with her dress all askew, her little legs are on display as she sits propped up against the cushions. I gasp in surprise when she finishes her song and I hear the sound of my best friend and his husband as they burst into a round of applause.

“Francesca Danyelle, what are you doing?” I ask playfully, pressing my fists against my hips.

She looks up at me, her light brown eyes growing wide in guilt before she says, “You said daddy was where Uncle Geoff and Uncle Louie live.”

My heart swells and I have to fight back tears as I look down at my daughter. She astounds me—everyday—and it only makes me love her more.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” I murmur, moving to sit next to her on the couch. “Daddy will be home soon, I promise.” She sets aside the tablet before she crawls into my lap.

“Today?” she asks, curling up against my chest.

“Yup. He’ll be home today.”

“I miss him so much,” she whispers, sealing her eyes closed tight as if it
pains
her to be away from him.

I know the feeling
.

“I miss him, too, Frankie.” I kiss the top of her head as I pick up the discarded device. Geoffrey and Louie are waiting patiently on the other end, and I wrap my arm around Frankie, holding her close as I smile at a couple of my favorite men. “Hi, guys.”

“Hey,” they reply in unison. It makes me chuckle. They really are the perfect pair.

Geoffrey met Louie at an art exhibition that he and Andy attended about three years ago. Louie was one of the artists in attendance. My favorite part of their story is the part where Geoff was raving about a piece to Andy, insisting that if the price wasn’t twice the amount of his mortgage, he would buy it in a heartbeat. That’s when Louie stepped in and made him an offer. He said he’d
give
him the canvas if Geoff agreed to go to dinner with him.

They were married a year later.

If Geoffrey is built like a Viking, which he totally still is, Louie is like a French model. I swear, he’s way nicer than one would imagine any man who looks like that would be. Geoffrey certainly found his
Jude
, and every time I see them, it makes me happy to see them so content and in love. It’s also comforting to know that my bestie has someone to ogle Ryan Gosling with on the regular, since I’m so far away.

We chat with each other for about a half an hour, until Frankie starts to squirm impatiently, complaining that she’s hungry and in need of a snack. After we say our goodbyes, Frankie clings to my neck as I carry her to the kitchen.

“What should we have for snack, hmm?” I ask, running my hand over her long, dark locks.

“Grapes?” she asks hopefully.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. I think we’ve got some grapes. Mommy can cut some up for you.”

She wiggles in excitement, making me laugh. Then she asks, “When I’m done with my snack, daddy will be home?”

“I don’t think so, honey. Daddy won’t be home until tonight.” Her excitement wanes, and as we enter the kitchen, I kiss her cheek comfortingly. Jude has been out of town for a week now. She did okay without him for about the first two days; then, with each day that follows, the rate at which she asks for him has increased more and more.

Francesca and I have a wonderful relationship. We always have, and I know in my heart that we always will. She’s my little miracle, and I love her more than life itself. It wasn’t easy bringing her into this world, but I’d endure every second of my pregnancy all over again if it meant I’d get Frankie.

The most amazing part about my daughter is that she’s
more
than just my daughter. We’re kindred spirits. Our love for one man binds us together in ways that no one else will ever fully understand. And while we each love him differently, our need for him is like a bonding agent. I know that she’s too young to comprehend it, but I do—and I know she feels it, too.

Judah doesn’t travel without us often, but every once in a while it’s necessary. When he’s gone, Frankie doesn’t always handle it well. Other mother’s have asked me if her bias toward her father makes me jealous—but my answer is always the same.
Never
have I been jealous of her relationship with Judah. She’s a daddy’s girl through and through, and I
love
it. To know that I was able to give him a child, someone who adores him the way Frankie does…I’ll never be able to describe how much that means to me. Not ever. Not to mention, I can’t blame her for being so attached. Judah—the
real
Judah, the man whose heart is revealed in the intimacy of his role of
husband
and
daddy
—he’s amazing.

“I have an idea,” I tell her, tickling her belly in an attempt to cheer her up.

She giggles, batting away my hand.

“How about we eat a snack and then do something fun? Having fun makes time go faster! Then we’ll have lunch and take a nap. After you wake up, it’ll almost be time for daddy to be home.”

“Can we go swimming?”

I smile at her, my little fish, and then nod. “We can get in the pool.”

She wiggles in excitement again. I swear, she’d be in the water all day every day if we let her. She’s scared the shit out of me a couple times, somehow finding her way into the backyard when she gets it in her mind that it’s time to swim. She knows not to get into the water without us, but even
ten feet
away from the side of the pool is too close when she’s all alone.

With her still in my arms, I head for the fridge in search of grapes, pulling the bag out of the fruit bin. I then sit Frankie down on top of the island counter so I can watch
her
watch
me
wash and slice her grapes. She chats with me about which bathing suit she thinks she should wear in the pool, and then she proceeds to tell me which bathing suit
I
should wear in the pool, too.

It doesn’t take me long to finish preparing her snack, and we relocate to the kitchen table, where she gets buckled into her booster seat. It’s a gorgeous day out, and while she eats, I gaze out over the view from where I sit. The back side of the main level of our house is mostly windows. We’re situated up on a hill, our view—day or night—absolutely breathtaking. Even after all these years, I still get lost in it. We’re a little bit of a ways from the beach, but I can see the ocean from here, and that’s certainly nothing to scoff about.

“Okay, mommy. All done!”

“Good girl. Let’s go get changed.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, our security system chimes as the front door opens and closes. Frankie and I both freeze, looking at each other with our matching eyes. My heartbeat speeds up, knowing that only one person has a key to our front door—the man I wasn’t expecting until this evening.

“Hello? Anybody home?” his deep voice bellows.

Frankie gasps, making me giggle before I whisper, “Look who made a liar out of me. Daddy’s home!”

“Daddy!” she screams.

I’m quick to unbuckle her from her chair, helping her to the floor before I watch her go
flying
toward the front door, her hair the dark cape that trails behind her. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face even if I tried—which I don’t. My husband is home, and I’m right on my little girl’s heels, anxious to see him.