Amplify (15 page)

"Are you alright, Fee?"

I nod and swallow. The door opens and I step out slowly, fighting the tears that are threatening to spill free.

"This way," Cage says, taking my hand in his. He leads me over the decently manicured lawn—I’m not even sure how that’s possible in California, but it is. It’s not a lush green, but it’s not brown and dirt either. He stops and turns to me, taking both of my hands in his. "Behind me is what I want to show you. If you don’t like it or if you want something different, we can change anything you want. But," he breaks off, swallowing hard, "I just thought she deserved this."

I nod and the first tear spills. He steps to the side and I gasp. My hand flies up to my mouth to try to stifle the sob, but I fail. Before me, next to my parents’ headstone is one for our baby girl. It’s an angel wrapping its body and arms around a heart. The heart—I sob again as I read it—says "Lilyana Rose – Your light shone for only a brief moment but you are forever loved." On the bottom, etched in the black granite, "From Mommy & Daddy" and beneath that, "2015".

I look at the angel and my gaze meets Cage’s tear-filled eyes.

"S-she," I whisper, "the angel... she looks like my mother."

He nods.

"How...?"

"Regina and Lucy."

I throw myself at him and wrap my arms around him. He picks me up gingerly then sits on the grass in front of our baby’s resting place.

"It’s okay?" he asks.

I nod. "Who’s Rose?"

He swallows hard, again. "She was my mother."

"Oh honey." I hug him tighter and his arms enclose me in his warmth.

"He killed her. My—well, I guess dad is what he was."

I wait him out, knowing he’s gathering himself, debating if and what he wants to share with me.

A breath shudders out of his body and I kiss his chest. "I was twelve. He was a junkie. My mom worked two jobs while he sat around and shot up the money she earned."

I soothe him as much as I can, rubbing his back with my hand.

"Then she got sick. Pneumonia and she still worked and took care of me while that miserable motherfucker did his drugs and fucked his whores. My mother, literally, worked herself to death and when she died, his money train ended. A junkie without a fix isn’t fun. I knew it was going to get bad so I bolted. I stayed with a friend for a couple days. When I went home to get the rest of my stuff, he was gone. So I went in and packed all my clothes, my baseball glove and ball my mom got me without the old man knowing, and when I opened the front door, he was there with one of his dealers. His dealer was roughing him up pretty good."

Oh no. No. No, no, no. I hold him tightly, afraid of what’s coming.

"They eventually saw me trying to sneak by. I’d nearly made it too," he tells me with a wry laugh. "So fucking close I could taste it, only to have the bastard grab my hoodie and ask me where I was going. At this point it was all about survival because I knew the old man would do whatever he needed to get out of his debt alive. And when he offered me up to the drug dealer, I wasn’t at all surprised."

"Oh honey." I reach up and cup his cheeks, thumbing away the tears spilling from his eyes.

"What did surprise me, though, was when the dealer turned to my old man in pure disgust demanding to know what kind of miserable fucking excuse for a father would do such a fucked up thing. The dealer didn’t wait for an answer. He just backed him into the kitchen and shot him. I was glued to the spot on the front walk, not sure whether to run or stay. When he came back out, he saw me shaking and told me he wasn’t going to hurt me—if he’d wanted to do that, he would have already done it. Then he introduced himself to me."

He’s looking at me now, instead of holding that unfocused stare above my head. His mouth kicks up into that half smirk.

"His name was Ernesto Russo."

I gasp. "No way."

Cage nods. "He gave me three hundred bucks, all he had on him at the time, and he also handed me his card. He said to call if I ever needed anything."

"Holy shit."

Cage nods. "I nearly threw that card away—nearly. But I held onto it. I’m really glad I did. I called that number about a year and a half later and Ernesto took me to Giovanni, who’d heard all about me by then."

"So that’s how it happened," I say, wiping beneath his eyes.

He nods. "That’s how it happened. But there’s one more piece of the puzzle I didn’t know until I was about eighteen or so."

"What’s that?"

"Your Grandpa Giovanni and Uncle Ernesto frequented the diner where my mother worked. They’d been in Chicago for a while and when they came back, my mom was sick. They paid for her to go to a doctor but it’d been too late. The medication just couldn’t undo what the sickness had already done."

"I’m so sorry."

"They paid for her funeral. I always wondered how she’d gotten such an elaborate headstone," he tells me, motioning to our left and back a row.

"Rose Lynn Stewart," I murmur.

He nods. "My mother."

I nod and sniffle.

"Our baby girl will have both our moms and your dad looking after her, Fee. She will never be alone."

"Oh Cage," I sob and cry into his chest.

"It’s alright, Fee. Just let all that hurt out now. No more holding it in," he murmurs against my ear, his breath hitching as he cries with me.

"I wanted her," I sob out. "From the minute I suspected, I wanted her."

He nods and rocks me back and forth as we hold and comfort one another while we grieve the loss of our child.

There are pink and white long-stemmed roses in vases on both sides of the headstone and I know our little Lilyana would have loved them.

When we both settle, I lean back.

"How did you become Cage Nichols?"

That half smirk again. "There’s nothing too exciting about it really. One day I was out with your grandpa and there was a shiny penny on the ground and he leaned down to pick it up. I scoffed and he asked me what was wrong with saving pennies. I told him there was nothing wrong with saving pennies but the least I wanted to save was nickels. He asked me why. I told him my mom always told me to save my nickels. From then on they called me "nickels" and when I turned eighteen, I changed my last name to Nichols."

"I love that story." It’s a warming one, a positive memory for him. I will always be grateful to my grandpa for giving Cage happy memories.

I notice more time has gone by than I thought when I get a chill.

"Thank you for this," I tell him, holding his face in my hands.

He nods once, the nod signifying emotional time is over and, in truth, I’m grateful. This last month I’ve been through the emotional ringer.

"I think it’s time we get a break from all the bad and have some good for a change," I mutter aloud.

Cage grunts in agreement, still holding me as he rises to standing. God, he’s such a big man, so strong and beautiful.

"I think maybe it’s time for Nana Russo to work up some mojo for all of us—positive mojo."

Cage chuckles. "I thought you told Lucy mojo can’t be used for personal gain."

"Apparently I was wrong. Look how the mojo worked out for her!" I reply with a laugh.

"True, but, Fee, think about this a minute. I think she overdid it with the mojo a bit."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"She’s happy and married to Jesse and in love, but she’s
also
pregnant with triplets," he says with a raised brow.

"Good God. Let’s skip the mojo."

He throws his head back and laughs and I join him. In this moment, with this man, who needs mojo?

––––––––

E
dge of Desire by John Mayer

Bad Intentions by Niykee Heaton

Unlike Any Other by Delta Rae

––––––––

T
HREE MORE WEEKS HAVE FLOWN
by and while it is great spending time with Joan and getting to know her, shopping with Lucy, and hanging out with the gang, I’m bored. Bored, bored, bored. Bored stiff. I need to
do
something, which is why I called Dr. Brickner’s office and asked if I could do some sit-down modeling jobs before my full six weeks were up. She approved me for part-time work status at four weeks postop and I wanted to kiss her on the lips. She assured me that wasn’t necessary. I told her she’d earned it. Xander asked if he could watch. Perv.

Then I asked about sex. Dr. B said, ideally, six weeks is the wait period but some women experiment as early as four if they’re feeling up to it—and I am certainly feeling up to it. Granted, there’s still some pulling of the incision area, which looks great but, hopefully, will fade even more with time. I think if Cage did the majority of the work, I could be very comfortable having sex. Tonight will be experimentation night.

I dial Irene’s number.

"Irene McPherson."

"Irene, it’s Sera," I begin as I walk out onto the terrace, stopping at the railing to look out over the ocean.

"Serafina Manzini. How the hell are you?"

"Good, good. I just got the go ahead for part-time modeling, more sit-down if you have it?" I bite my lip then stop myself. I’ve been around Lucy too much lately.

"I heard about what happened. I’m very sorry."

"Thanks, Irene."

She grunts. That’s the end of the pleasantries with Irene.

"I’ve got a shampoo ad, makeup, bras—"

"I’ll take ‘em," I interrupt.

Irene snickers. "One job at a time there, pretty girl. Shampoo and makeup are probably your best options right now as they’re right here in L.A. There’s a clothing ad in Jamaica  but that’s more standing than sitting."

"I’d rather skip the tropics, at least for another week or so."

"Sounds good. I’ll email the details."

"Excellent," I say excitedly. I can’t wait to finally have something to do.

"Want me to fax the contracts or courier them over?"

"Courier is easiest. I’m staying at Cage’s—"

"I’d like to think of it as ours." His deep voice slides over me.

"Busted," Irene laughs. "I know the address. They’ll be there in the morning."

"Thanks Irene."

"Good luck." With that, she hangs up, leaving me to my own devices.

Cage walks up, wrapping his arms around me from behind and kissing the top of my head. "I thought you had two more weeks before you could work?"

I nod. "I did. But I’m losing my mind, Cage," I tell him, turning to see his handsome face. "I need to do something besides read, talk, shop, talk, and talk some more. I’m so sick of talking."

Cage chuckles. "I wondered how long it would take to break you."

"Well apparently four weeks is my limit. I called Dr. Brickner’s office and she cleared me for part-time work, sitting if it’s offered, and there’s one shampoo ad and another one for makeup, and in a couple weeks I should be ready to go back to full-time status at my six week mark and we can get back out on tour."

"Mhmm. We’ll be going back out a few weeks after your six week mark. It’s going to be risky. All that exposure, but I’ve got enough security lined up—reliable security—that we shouldn’t have any issues this time," he tells me as a finger traces my lips, his eyes following the movement.

My breath catches as I think about some very much wanted sex with this hot man, whose finger I’m now nibbling on.

"Fee," he whispers, his eyes going dark with lust.

"Cage," I whisper back.

He licks his lip and tugs gently on my bottom one with his index finger. "We have to wait."

"Nuh-uh," I tell him, taking his hand and leading him into our bedroom.

"Nuh-uh?" he asks, confused.

I let go of his hand and head toward the bedroom door. I turn the lock and it audibly clicks. I turn around and grin. I suck at seduction but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s already taking his jacket off.

"I talked with Dr. B today, remember?"

He nods, reaching up for his tie. I kick my shoes off and stand in front of him. Even at my five-feet ten-inch frame this man dwarfs me. God how I love that. I reach up and begin unbuttoning his shirt.

"Well, she said some women are comfortable," I pause and slip another button through the hole, then look up at him beneath my eyelashes, "having sex after four weeks. It’s recommended four to six, same with work." I unbutton another button, and another, and another. "It depends on the woman and how invasive the surgery was."

He lets out a grunt, reaching his right hand to undo his left wrist cufflink. The man is sexy and classy and trying so hard to remain in control.

"So," I say, lifting my top over my head and throwing it on the pile of his clothes.

"So," he says with the raise of a brow as he eases his shirt off of his shoulders and places it on top of mine. My mouth goes dry and I fight the urge to bite his chest.

"We can," my breath falters when he reaches for the button on my pants.

"We can..."

"Uh, we can experiment and see—" A soft moan slips past my lips when his fingers rub over me as he unzips my pants. "—and see what’s comfortable and what’s not."

He nods, bending to pull my pants down, holding out an arm for me to steady myself as I step out of each pant leg. He picks them up and sets them on top of his shirt. Then he reaches for his belt, slowly unbuckling it, sliding it through the loops. Instead of setting that on the settee with the rest of the clothes at the end of the bed, he places it on the bed.