June First
: Part 3 – Chapter 39

Brant, age 28

I really, really missed her mouth.

“Jesus, June…” My back is pressed against the bedroom wall as my hands fist her mane of silky hair. I watch as her head bobs up and down on my cock, her moans making it sound like she’s enjoying this even more than I am.

Literally impossible.

I shut my eyes and throw my head back to the wall because if I keep watching her, I’m going to come. And it’s only been thirty seconds since she ripped off my belt and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Fuck, that feels good,” I practically hiss through my teeth. She replies with something like “mmm,” and digs her fingernails into my ass.

Christ.

I realize guests are on the way over to celebrate June’s birthday in our tiny, cramped one-bedroom apartment and the cake might be burning, but I’m pretty certain the whole apartment could be burning, and I still wouldn’t move from this spot.

June strokes the base as she tries to deep-throat me without gagging.

She gags.

And it’s so fucking hot.

Still gripping her hair as she sucks me, I give it a tug until her eyes lift up. She releases me with a ‘pop,’ leaving my dick rock-hard and glistening as I pull her up to her feet, then march her backward toward the bed. As much as I’d love to finish in her mouth, I need to be inside her. She’s wearing a little black dress I’ve been wanting to strip her out of ever since she put it on thirty-one seconds ago.

She glances at the open bedroom door, then back to me. Her lashes flutter and her eyeshadow glints as she nibbles her lip. “We don’t have much time…”

“I promise it’ll be quick.” I wiggle my eyebrows. Grinning, she hikes up her dress, and I bend her over the foot of the bed. As I slip inside from behind, I lean over and whisper against her ear, “I want to put a baby in you.”

Her gasp morphs into a needy cry when I push all the way inside, filling her completely, and start thrusting.

“Oh God, Brant…”

In and out.

“Do—do you really mean it…?”

Faster.

“Are y-you sure…?”

Harder.

I slam into her, the mattress squeaking, the headboard smacking against the wall in perfect time, likely pissing off our crotchety neighbor. Then I pull out of her for a second, flip her around, and link her legs around my waist. “I’m sure,” I grit out, sliding back home.

It’s probably not the smartest choice, but there’s nothing I want more.

We’ve only officially been together for a little under a year, even though it feels like a lifetime. Our apartment is not ideal for a growing family with its creaky wood floors, an obnoxiously loud air conditioner, and a dollhouse-sized kitchen with the distinct charm of 1987. It’s dated and smells like the Chinese buffet down the street, but I’m still in love with all six-hundred-and-ten square feet of it, because it’s ours. We’ve laid roots here.

But the more those roots thrive and grow, the more seeds I want to plant.

Particularly, one seed.

Sliding my hand up her belly, I picture it plump and swollen, filled with our beautiful child. “God, I want a baby with you, June,” I breathe out raggedly, slowing my pace and stroking her clit. She writhes and buckles beneath me, draping the back of her arm over her forehead, while her other hand squeezes the bedspread. “But I can wait.”

She unravels quickly, arcing her back while she comes and crying out my name as I lean over her. I grip her by the hips and pump into her a few more times, seized by a violent orgasm, and I groan with satisfaction as I empty inside of her.

She’s on the pill, anyway.

It’s a moot point.

June catches her breath, her breasts heaving. One of them pokes out of her slip dress, and my hand glides up to palm it, tweaking her nipple as I bend down to kiss her. “I missed you.”

Her eyes blink open—her beautiful, sky-blue eyes—and she gifts me with a magical smile. “Missed you more.”

“How much?” Pulling out of her, I tug her dress back down, then tuck myself into my boxers, hoping I have five minutes to freshen up before guests arrive.

“Over the rainbow and back again,” she says, lifting up on her elbows. Her hair is a mess. It’s infused with static and sticking up in a hundred different places.

I’m pretty sure we both look like we just rode each other hard.

We had to, though—June was away for three days for a traveling stage performance, and she only just got home while I was pouring batter into cake pans.

I was so distracted by the smell of her hair and the warmth of her skin when she came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my middle, that I don’t actually remember if I put the cake in the oven.

Maybe it’s not burning at all.

Maybe it’s not even cooking.

Shit.

My cell phone vibrates from the front pocket of the trousers I just pulled back up, so I tug the zipper and fish it out as June runs a comb through her hair. I smile when I glance at the screen.

Pauly: Hello, Brant. Buon compleanno to June. May all of her wishes be fulfilled, and all of her blessings be noticed. My Stellina and I are looking forward to visiting you in the fall. In the meantime, continue to impress the great state of New York with your legendary Beef Wellington.

A picture comes through of Pauly and Wendy, standing in the middle of Chicago’s iconic Millennium Park.

My grin widens.

Yeah, so—that happened.

I can’t say I’m surprised, but… okay, I’m a little surprised. Wendy’s been working for Pauly for years, and their combative bantering always teetered the line of flirting, but I honestly never thought Pauly would take that next step, considering he’s eighteen years her senior.

But oddly enough, they just work.

And they’re happy. They’re really damn happy, and if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that happiness always perseveres over societal conventions.

While Pauly planned to move out to New York with me last year, he chose to stay in Illinois with Wendy—as their relationship had just started blossoming—overseeing his beloved Anima Mia from afar. I’m basically in charge of the place, and while it’s been a huge learning curve in management and workload, I’m creatively fulfilled in the best way. The restaurant is thriving. The food is garnering attention from food blogs, television shows, and even renowned chefs.

I’m living my dream.

I’m living my dream with the love of my life.

And Pauly is finally calling me by my first name.

As I ponder sending Pauly a selfie of June and me, I notice that her boob is still precariously poking out of her dress, and I don’t seem to have the willpower to tell her to fix it, so I settle on a quick response, instead.

That’s when the buzzer rings.

Rushing over to June, I unwillingly adjust her dress and plant a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Happy birthday, Junebug,” I murmur, lingering for a second kiss.

Her lips are shimmering with my favorite cherry gloss as her smile blooms. I’m about to race to the front door when she stops me. “Brant,” she calls out. When I pivot, she sweeps her hair to one side and bites at that delicious cherry lip. “I want a baby, too.”

My eyes flare, stinging with sentiment.

A tickle shoots straight to my heart, filling me with a feeling I can’t even explain.

Buzz.

Jolting in place, I shake myself from the haze—from the vivid daydream of newborns and nurseries and lullabies and precious stuffed elephants—and I nod my head, grinning like a fool. All I want to do is ravage her again, hoping she missed one of her pills.

Her birthday feels awfully inconvenient right now.

I jog to the front of the small apartment that’s humbly accessorized with streamers and partially deflated balloons, and pull open the door to see a familiar face shining back at me.

“Kip.”

Ah, Kip. I really miss Kip.

He hands me a terribly wrapped box, taped up with what looks to be menus from one of the local delis. “Don’t say anything,” he laughs lightly, sweeping past me with his suitcase and shrugging out of his jacket. “I panic-bought you something as soon as I flew in, grabbed a roll of tape, but forgot the actual wrapping paper.”

I blink. “These are menus.”

“The restaurant is next door.”

“Okay, but we would have been totally fine with a gift card. They fit right into your wallet.” Laughter spills out of me when he freezes in place, then pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Well, I didn’t think of that, Brant.”

“Kip!” June darts from the bedroom off the living area, her shiny threads of hair fluttering behind her. She’s buttoned a navy cardigan over her chest, likely fearful of another wardrobe glitch. She leaps into his arms for an enthusiastic hug, smiling at me over Kip’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you could make it. I haven’t seen you since the move.”

Kip helped us move in last October, taking some time off work to sightsee the big city and say his final goodbyes while we transitioned into our new life.

He’s been a rock for us both; a loyal friend—and if one good thing came out of Theo joining the police force, it’s that he brought Kip into our lives.

Because he doesn’t have a lot of family back home, and his sister is studying abroad in Switzerland, we invited Kip out to New York to celebrate June’s birthday with us. He’s sleeping on a futon in our living room for the next five days.

And because I don’t plan on being celibate for the next five days, I’m really hoping he brought earplugs.

“Shit, it’s great to see you,” he tells her, setting her back down on her bare feet while she does a modest twirl. “How’s life on Broadway?”

“Difficult. Incredible. Exhausting. Magical.”

His lips twitch with a smile. “Sounds like my love life.”

“Oh! Weren’t you going to bring her?”

Swiping the beanie off his head, Kip scratches at the nape of his neck, his expression dolesome. “We’re currently in the difficult phase, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry,” June pouts. “Truly.”

Interestingly enough, Kip has been involved, off and on, with the sister of one of my old co-workers at the nightclub. Her name is Clementine.

From what I’ve heard, it’s been a bumpy road, with a coupling of respective past traumas, along with the fact that Clem is a single mom to a young daughter.

It hasn’t been easy, but hell, when he talks about her; when things are good… I recognize it.

I recognize that spark.

I know what it’s like to fight for something that feels impossible, even when you know it could be so fucking perfect.

Kip takes his shoes off in the miniature foyer space and clears his throat, slipping his hands into his pockets. “It’s all good. It’ll be nice to spend some time away and clear my head.” He twirls a finger in the air. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

June and I share a quick, poignant look.

I wink.

“Is that a gift?” she wonders, her eyes trailing to the menu-wrapped package still in my arms. A giggle falls out of her, and she cups a palm over her mouth. “We were running low on takeout menus. Very thoughtful.”

His head swings back and forth through an embarrassed laugh as he runs his fingers through short, cropped hair. “It’ll be a gift card next time, promise.” Glancing into the kitchen, a frown unfurls, and he points his finger toward the oven. “You know, the menus might actually come in handy if you’re not able to salvage whatever’s burning in there.”

Ah, crap.

Tendrils of smoke billow out from the stove as I race into the kitchen.

I guess I remembered to put the cake in, after all.

“Kip heard us, didn’t he? Nobody sleeps all night with ear buds in.”

“With only a paper-thin wall separating us? Nah.” We walk hand-in-hand through Central Park, munching on blueberry scones as the drizzle fades and the clouds clear. I glance upward, scanning the blue-gray sky, our feet sinking into the soggy grass. “He just likes music. Everyone likes music.”

“God, Brant. Surely he was blocking out the sounds of my banshee wails as you brought me to ecstasy three times.”

“You can ask him when we get back.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I’ll ask him, then.” I pop the last bite of scone into my mouth and start to chew. “For my own research purposes. I’d love an outsider’s perspective. You know… were we actually at banshee-level wailing, because that’s impressive, or was it more, subpar moaning?” She narrows her eyes at me, swallowing down the rest of her breakfast. “Is there something else I can do? A unique angle, or a tongue trick, or—”

Laughing, she leaps onto my back, and I hook my hands beneath her thighs. “You’re humiliating.”

“I just want to learn, June.”

“You’re a brilliant lover, and you know it. You’ve left no room for improvement.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me.”

I carry her around the park, piggy-back style, reclaiming my boyhood title of World’s Best Piggy-Back Giver. My eyes are still casing the sky, a golden haze peeking through the clouds, when June’s phone starts to sing.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you, but…” She slides down my back. “One sec, Mom is video-calling me.” June accepts the call, then extends her arm until she’s centered in the frame. Both Samantha and Andrew wave through the screen. “Hey!”

“Showtunes June,” Andrew quips, wiggling his brows. “How’s my dancing queen?”

Her eyes roll back. “Mildly horrified by your rhymes.”

“Then I owe myself a congratulations.”

I slip a smile, then slide into view, lifting my own hand with a wave. “Morning.”

They both smile, warmly.

And I’m so goddamn grateful for that.

I’m grateful for every single smile they gift me with—because that’s what it is. A gift. I’m beyond thankful for the birthday card I received in April, and the occasional phone call or e-mail, just to check in on me, and for the fact that they didn’t turn their backs on me after I flipped their world upside down.

They could have. They could have, so easily.

So, I’m grateful. Every moment that they trust me with their daughter is a precious gift.

Samantha beams, sitting beside Andrew on the living room couch. She twirls a coffee mug between her hands. “Good morning, Brant. How’s the weather over there?”

Not going according to plan, as usual, my mind replies. Instead, I say, “Rainy, but the sun is trying to poke through.”

Andrew nods. “Same here. Did Kip make it into town safely yesterday?”

“Yep,” June answers. “He was still sleeping when we snuck out for scones. Brant has this thing about going for walks together after rain showers.” She sends me a quizzical side-eye. “It’s refreshing, I guess. And the park is quieter.”

“That sounds lovely, sweetheart,” Samantha says. “We won’t keep you… we just wanted to see how your birthday went last night…”

Samantha’s voice trails off as something catches my eye, just above the treetops.

A flash of pigment.

A swirl of color.

Holy shit, this is it.

I quicken my gait, marching ahead of June as she hangs back to finish up her goodbyes. Rounding the corner with my head tilted up, I nearly lose my breath when a majestic rainbow comes into full view. My blood races with adrenaline. My heart skyrockets with relief.

I spin around, watching as June clicks off her call and glances at me across the way. She pauses, her forehead wrinkling, as if she’s wondering how I got so far ahead of her. Or maybe she’s just confused by the giddy smile on my face and the tears in my eyes.

June paces forward, slowly at first. And then she stops again, doing a double-take to the sky. Her eyes round into sapphire spheres, her lips parting with awe. “Brant… look!” She points, as if I hadn’t already seen it.

As if I could miss it.

As if I haven’t been waiting for this moment for months.

With her gaze transfixed to the rainbow sky, she jogs toward me as a breathy, joyful sound spills out of her. “It’s so beautiful. We had so many rainbows in New York when we were apart, but none since you’ve been here with me, and I’ve been wishing for one so badly, ever since winter faded, and—” She spins around to face me.

But I’m already on one knee.

June’s words fall off, her lips frozen into an ‘O’ shape. Her hand flies up to grip her chest, right over her heart. “Brant… ?”

“June Adeline Bailey.” I gaze up at her wide, glistening eyes as I dig the ring box out of my front pocket. I bought it in March, carrying it with me every single day, waiting for a rainbow. “Junebug.”

“Brant,” she repeats, choking on my name.

“Twenty-two years ago, I tossed a toy elephant into your crib, trying to give you comfort in the only way I could. And I knew, in that moment, as you gazed at me through the crib slats with your big blue eyes—I knew you were destined to become my comfort.” Emotion syphons through me, stealing my words for a moment. I swallow. “That’s exactly what you became. You were the laughter on the other side of my tears, the solace to quell my nightmares, and the rainbow after every storm. You saved my life, June Bailey.”

Both hands cup her mouth as tears collapse onto her fingers. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“And I can’t think of anything sweeter than to spend the rest of that life with you.” Rising to my feet, I pluck the ring out of the box, holding it up between my thumb and finger.

A sound falls out of her when she looks at it. A breathtaking sound of disbelief.

“It’s rimmed with tiny sapphires. Blue like the eyes I fell in love with. Blue like the sky that gives us rainbows, and the bluebirds that fly over them.” I quirk a smile. “Blue like the Prom dress that brought me to my knees.” I take her shaking hand in mine, then slide the diamond over her ring finger. It’s a perfect fit. Blowing out a heavy breath, I lift my eyes to hers. “I want to dare to dream with you forever, Junebug. On top of being my best friend, my lover, my soulmate, my comfort and my courage… will you be my wife?”

She nods.

She nods and sobs and whimpers into her hands. But when she drops her arms and sniffles, inhaling a choppy breath, she asks, “Do… do you want the good news or bad news first?”

My heart nearly stops. I blink rapidly, trying to read her.

These are happy tears.

Right?

Shit… was this too soon? Is she not ready?

Trying not to black out, I choke, “Good news first.”

June doesn’t hesitate.

She leaps into my arms, coiling her legs around my hips and linking her hands behind my neck. She kisses my shoulder, my collarbone, all the way up to my ear, and whispers, “Yes… yes. God, Brant, all the yes. I’d marry you today, a thousand times over, in every version of every lifetime.”

Relief swims through me, and I squeeze her tight, replaceing her mouth as I spin her around in clumsy, happy fucking circles, kissing her breathless until we don’t know who’s tears we’re tasting anymore. We cling. We sway.

We dream.

The rainbow fades into the sky, but we don’t.

We’re shining brighter than ever.

As I pull back to wipe the tearstains from her cheeks, I kiss her forehead, setting her back down to her feet. A thought stumbles back to my mind, and I frown. “Wait… what was the bad news?”

June sniffs, inching backward and drinking in a big breath. She places a flat palm over her stomach. “We’ll really need to start saving, Brant. I might need to pick up a second job.”

I glance down at her belly.

I look back up.

“Weddings are expensive.” She moves her hand in a circular motion as a smile blooms to life. Then she says, “And so are babies.”