If It Makes You Happy(111)

I kiss behind her ear, using my other hand to dip into her hair, exhaling out, “You’re so beautiful.”

Her hand cups the outside of my jeans, and I hiss in a breath.

She strokes slow movements with her palm. “Keep talking.”

It’s funny; I’ve always been a talker in the bedroom. I can’t help myself. But this is new for Michelle, and now it’s all she wants. I’m not complaining.

I run a thumb over her jawline, burying my nose in her hair, and murmur into her ear, “What do you want me to do? Want me to touch you here?” I slide my hand down to her jeans, tucking the top button through its hole. I pull the zipper, the hiss of it a harsh sound in the room’s silence. “Want me to taste here?” I trail my fingers below the hem of her underwear.

She’s slick between my fingers, and suddenly, I’m hard as a rock.

She nods against my shoulder, lowering her chin into the dip of my collarbone. “Please,” she whines.

“I love it when you beg,” I groan. “I love—”

There’s a knock at the door, and both our heads swing back.

“Michelle?” It’s Emily.

Shit.

My erection is dead immediately. Michelle zips up her pants, buttoning them back up. My eyebrows rise in question. Emily can’t know I’m in here. We’ve been trying to keep our relationship a secret from my girls, especially while we try to figure it out for ourselves. There’s no point in breaking their hearts too.

I look around, but Michelle pushes me against the wall beside the door and out of sight. She slaps her palm over my mouth before cracking the door open enough to see Emily.

“Hi. Sorry. Cleaning up,” Michelle says. “The guest left, and … well, I don’t want to get into it.”

“Ew,” Emily says with a sneer, and I can picture the little scrunch in her nose. “Something gross?”

“Yeah,” Michelle answers, letting the word drag.

I twist against Michelle’s palm to look at her. I kinda like her hand over my lips. I open my mouth against her palm, tracing a small line with my tongue between the crease of two fingers. She grips my mouth harder.

“It might be ten more minutes or so,” Michelle tells her.

I gently nip her finger between my teeth.

“Twenty,” she corrects.

“Oh. Okay.” Emily’s words fade out.

Instantly, my dad alarms blare at Emily’s sullen, disappointed tone. I tense. So does Michelle.

“Why?” Michelle asks. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

My stomach drops. She sounds nervous. Maybe even scared. I turn my head to look at Michelle, but, smart woman that she is, she doesn’t look back.

“Okay. Well, hey, let me wrap up this room in five, and we’ll talk.”

“I thought you said it would take twenty.”

“I overestimated.”

Even with my eyebrows furrowed in concern, I weakly smile against Michelle’s palm. Why does this feel so easy? My daughter confiding in her. Make-out sessions in guest rooms.

Just the thought of her leaving makes my nerves tighten everywhere. My heart feels erratic. I wish we had more time. I wish she could stay. I wish we didn’t live on opposite sides of the country, living opposite lives.

I notice that Emily hasn’t left. She stands quietly outside the door.

“Actually, can I … can I talk to you now?” she asks Michelle.

“Oh,” Michelle says, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “The room is—”

“I don’t care how messy it is,” Emily interrupts. “I’m really nervous right now. I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

“Em—”

She interrupts again, this time shakier, “Please?”

Michelle is at a loss for words.

Emily fills the blank space for her. “I think I might be pregnant.”





CHAPTER 37





Cliff




I think I black out for half a second. Blurry dots crowd my vision. My knees nearly collapse. The only thing keeping me upright is Michelle’s palm, but even her fingers are now shaking against my lips.

“What did you say?” Michelle breathes.

My daughter might be pregnant.

My mind is swimming. Drowning.

Emily might be pregnant.

I have a half-second thought of, I’m going to murder Josh and string him up in the square, Middle Ages–style.

But once that fantasy is out of the way, I hear Emily shakily asking, “I … I think … You aren’t mad, are you?”

My daughter is scared. She’s as scared as Tracy was when we were her age. Terrified of a different future than the open path available to her now. She doesn’t even know what she wants to go to college for—or if she even wants to go. She’s barely considered the future before losing it for another one.

I push off from the wall, and Michelle drops her palm from my mouth. I turn the corner. Michelle steps back to give me room. My body crowds the doorway, my shoulders nearly touching either side of the threshold.

Emily’s eyes widen until they are so big that I can see every edge of the white surrounding them.