No One Else: The Ladies Who Brunch Book 2, page 1
NO ONE ELSE
The Ladies Who Brunch Book Two
HARLOW JAMES
Copyright © 2022 by Harlow James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Paperback ISBN: 9798813188039
Cover Designer: Abigail Davies, Pink Elephant Designs
Editor: Jeanine Harrell, Indie Edits with Jeanine
To any woman who has sacrificed a part of who you are or what you want for a man…
The problem isn’t you.
It’s him.
Because the right man would never expect you to sacrifice who you are and what you want to be with him.
So he’s the not the one for you.
And the one who is will love you like no one else.
“Love has to be two people coming together and saying I want this, even when it gets messy and hard.”
Unknown
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Connect with Harlow James
Acknowledgments
About the Author
More Books by Harlow James
Prologue
Amelia
Age Sixteen
“So, what do you think Mom and Dad want to talk to us about tonight?” My big brother, Nick, bounces on the edge of my bed while I sit at my desk, filling out my new planner for school.
We still have two weeks left until the beginning of my junior year, but I’m always excited for the start of the new school year. My backpack is full of brand-new notebooks, my planner is color coordinated for each subject, and I already have my outfit picked out for the first day. Plus, my braces are finally off after five painstakingly long years, my boobs decided to arrive fashionably late to the party as well but better late than never, and I finally found a mousse that can tame these wild blond curls of mine.
I feel like I’ve reached the other side of puberty with an air of confidence, so I’m optimistic that this year will be a turning point for me in the awkwardness I’ve felt most of my life growing up.
To anyone on the outside, it would appear that I have everything—parents who are still happily married, a big brother that I genuinely get along with and am close to, and good grades with high hopes of attending UCLA in two years.
But inside, I struggle with finding my purpose. I know I want to do something with my life that will make a difference, something that can help people and make the world a better place, but I haven’t pinpointed what that is just yet.
My mother tells me to give it time, that I don’t need to have all of the answers about my life right this second. But internally, I’m freaking out. Being a planner by nature forces me to think ahead, contemplate my future, and when I can’t decide on what happens next, my anxiety flares.
Thank God I have constants in my life that I can rely on because if my foundation started to crumble, I honestly don’t know what I might do.
“Maybe they want to do one more mini vacation before we go back to school,” I suggest, spinning around in my seat to face him.
Nick and I are only thirteen months apart, so we’ve always been close. While my brother has established himself as a popular jock in school, captain of the football team, and all-around cool guy, I've struggled to fit into this world. However, he always makes sure I’m included with his friends, that people know not to mess with me, and if anyone treats me wrong, they’ll hear from him. I’m sad this will be the last year we attend school together since Nick will be a senior and leave for college next summer, but that just gives us even more of a reason to enjoy more family time together while we can.
“That would be sweet. We only went camping once. Maybe they found another place with last-minute availability.”
“Or maybe they’re going to ditch us and take a trip just the two of them. They haven’t done that in a while.”
Nick and I know that our parents are not typical, especially after being married for almost twenty years. They still act like they fell in love just yesterday and could be the poster couple for what a marriage should look like. Sometimes they are too sickeningly happy, but I try to remind myself it’s better if they can’t keep their hands off each other than hate each other’s guts.
Plenty of my friends and other kids we go to school with have parents that are divorced, and I count my blessings each night that Nick and I aren’t in that same boat.
“Nick! Amelia!” my mom calls from downstairs.
“Let’s go get this over with so we can eat. I’m starving.” Nick leaps from my bed and races downstairs.
“When are you not hungry?” I call after him, laughing as we enter the living room, finding our parents sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Huh, that’s weird. They’re usually right next to each other.
“Hey, you two. Have a seat.” My father directs us to sit on the loveseat opposite them, his facial expression hard to read.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as we sit down, anxiety flaring up the longer I take in their body language. My father is leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and my mother is curled up into her corner of the couch, her legs tucked up under her with a box of tissues sitting on the table beside her.
“Did someone die?” my brother echoes my next thought, and then my heart begins to race even faster.
“No. No one died,” my mother replies calmly, almost eerily. “But your father and I need to talk to you about something.”
My father clears his throat. “We have always tried to be honest with you two,” he starts, looking over at my mom.
“We know.”
“Well, this is one of those moments where honesty isn’t going to be easy, but it’s important,” my mother continues for him.
“What the heck is going on?” Nicks asks impatiently.
My parents share a look, and then my mother speaks. “Your father and I are separating.”
Suddenly, the floor feels like it’s giving out underneath me. “What?”
“Seriously?” Nick asks.
“Yes. For a while, anyway,” my dad replies.
“Are you…are you two getting a divorce?” I whisper, not wanting to know the answer but fearful that the reality is there.
They share a look again. “We…we don’t know,” my mother says.
Nick shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. You two love each other. Heck, most of the time, I have to shield my eyes when I walk into a room because you’re playing tonsil hockey.”
My mother begins to cry, a few tears running down her cheeks. “We do love each other, son…”
“This just doesn’t make sense,” I say, looking back and forth between us. “Was it all just an act then? Were you two pretending so we wouldn’t suspect anything?”
“Um, well…”
“Look, it was my idea,” my mother cuts my dad off. “I’m not proud of it, but we’ve come to a point where we can’t hide it anymore. Your father is going to stay in a hotel for a while…”
Nick launches himself from the couch. “And then he’ll move out for good, right? That’s how it always starts.”
“Nick,” my mother speaks, but my brother just shakes his head and walks away, pounding his feet on the stairs as he marches up to his room and slams the door. She then looks over at me. “I’m sorry, Amelia…truly.”
“I don’t get it, and I know there are probably things you can’t really discuss with me, but have you guys considered counseling?”
My dad nods. “Yes, but…”
“But what?” I interrupt him. “Do it. Fight for our family, damn it!” I stand up now, raising my voice at my parents, which I’ve rarely done before.
“Amelia, there’s just things you can’t possibly understand…”
“What I don’t understand is why you’re both willing to throw almost twenty years of your lives away, that you’re willing to rip apart our family, over what?”
They remain silent.
And I can’t even begin to form any other words to say.
So I spin on my heels and march up the stairs as well, feeling broken, rattled, and even more unsettled than I ever have in my entire life.
My parents might be getting a divorce, my family is being torn apart, and all I can wonder is, does anyone ever really get a happily ever after? Is it even possible to repair something that's broken?
Or are we all naive to think that love really can conquer all…
Chapter 1
Amelia
Present Day
“Great. Now I want you to tell John what you want him to do to you.” With a nod of my head, I encourage Melissa to voice her desires to her husband.
She takes a deep breath and then speaks. “I want him to fuck me hard with his big, thick cock, so hard that he makes me scream. I want rough sex, sweaty sex, the kind of sex that makes you melt into a puddle afterward.” John’s eyes go wide. “I want him to spank me, blindfold me, tie me up, and treat me like a woman he can’t get enough of. And I want us to both lose control together.”
Swallowing after that admission, I fight to stay in therapist mode. “That was good, but I want you to say that to him. Turn to face him.” I watch her twist in place as John remains facing forward. “John, turn to your wife. Listen to her. She’s trying to tell you what she needs, what she wants. How often do men wish women would just tell them what they want?” I gesture to her with my hand. “She’s telling you this right now. Really listen to her.” He inhales and then turns to face her, but then his eyes drop to his lap. “Look at her, John.” His eyes lift reluctantly.
“John, I want you to fuck me so hard with your huge dick that I can’t walk the next day. I want it so hard that I scream and wake up the neighbors. I want you to fuck me like you did before we had kids when it was just us and all we’d do is lie in bed all day and go at it like rabbits. I need it, John. I need to feel like you still want me.”
He sighs. “First of all, where on earth did you learn to talk like that, Melissa? And second, that was different. We didn’t have kids. We didn’t work full-time jobs. We didn’t have this life now, and I’m freaking exhausted by the end of the day.”
Melissa slumps in her seat as her eyes shift in my direction again. “See? This is what I get in response.” Then she turns back to her husband. “I’m not saying every night. And I know that having sex all day is unrealistic now.” She places her hands over her chest. “I just want to feel like you want me, that you desire me, that you think about me all day and can’t wait until the kids go to bed so we can be alone and you can show me that I still make you horny. Lately, I don’t even know if you find me attractive anymore.”
“Of course, I find you attractive,” he argues. “But by the time we get in bed, I can barely keep my eyes open. Work is crazy, and the kids have so much energy I feel like I can’t keep up with them and you. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but you never used to want sex as much as you do now. The past few years, we’ve been lucky to do it once a week, sometimes once a month.”
“The kids were babies. I was exhausted and felt like a stranger in this new body. But now I want it, I need it. My body is craving it, John. I can’t explain it, but the important thing is that I want it with you, my husband.”
“Melissa has entered her thirties in the last few years as well, John,” I interrupt to clarify something. “And it’s very common for a woman’s sexual desires to peak when she reaches her thirties.”
“But that’s where mine were in my twenties,” he replies. “Now I feel like I’m a shitty husband that can’t give her what she wants because my libido has sailed.” He hangs his head as I see Melissa’s lips tremble, so I try to defuse the situation.
“You two are in a very exhausting phase of your lives right now—raising kids, working each day, managing a house—it’s a lot. And sometimes, sex can feel like just another thing you have to do. But maintaining that physical relationship is what will keep your marriage together. Remember that your children will leave one day, and the person that will still be there is your partner. Sex will help you feel connected as husband and wife and not just glorified roommates, or this person that you share a bed with.” Melissa wipes a tear from her eye. “You guys are making great progress, and I think we can get you where you want to be.”
“I love you, John. You are the man I want to be with, but I need sex. And I don’t want to see everything we’ve built together come apart because of this.” Melissa reaches out for her husband’s hand, and I watch his eyes well with tears as well.
Turning to her, he speaks. “I love you too. I just don’t know how to muster up any more energy. I don’t want our marriage to unravel either, but knowing that you’re unhappy makes me feel like less of a man.”
A thought occurs to me, and I’m grateful for this contact I’ve made in recent years. “You know, John, I have a colleague I’d like for you to speak with if you would be willing. He owns a men’s health clinic, and I think you would benefit from getting your testosterone levels checked.”
“What? Why would he need that?” Melissa asks.
“Well, one of John’s major complaints is exhaustion, and you’d be surprised how many men have lower than normal testosterone levels and how that affects their overall energy level as well as their sex drive. I have many former clients who had their levels checked, especially after a vasectomy, started doing weekly injections, and many areas of their health, including their sex lives, changed drastically. It may be something we can look into.”
Melissa turns back to her husband. “Would you be willing to do that?”
John shrugs. “At this point, it’s worth a shot.”
“Excellent.” The timer on my phone to my left goes off, signaling the end of our session. “Okay, well, that sound means our time is up, you two. I’m very proud of what you were able to voice today. Melissa, especially. You were very honest about your feelings, and that takes a lot of courage. Shall we schedule another visit for next week? Same time?”
“Yes, Dr. St. Clair. Please,” Melissa replies with a hint of desperation in her voice. The poor woman. All she wants is her husband to fuck her sideways, and she can’t get what she needs. And I know John loves her—that’s not the problem. I’m almost positive there’s something going on internally with him that we can fix relatively quickly, and if it’s not that, then I will do my best to help them figure this out.
It’s the part of my job that I love because I know I can make a difference in their lives—come hell or high water, I will help them. I will help them achieve the best sex of their lives and keep their marriage together.
“Perfect. Just remember, next time we will be in my new office off Westchester.” I jot down their names in my planner and then rise to see them out. As we walk to the door, I grab a card for the clinic, handing it to John. “Here you go, John. I promise these guys will help you and make you feel very comfortable talking about how you’re feeling. This is individualized care, and at least with a few tests, we will have a starting point to figure out if there is something physically going on that’s preventing you from being intimate with Melissa.”
“I appreciate it,” he says with a sigh. “This is all just overwhelming.”
Resting a hand on his shoulder, I look between him and his wife. “I know, but you two took a huge leap to solve the issues going on in your marriage just by being here. A lot of couples don’t have the courage to do that. That action alone tells me you want this, and my job is to help you achieve the marriage you both need and want, the kind that lasts a lifetime.”
With a parting smile and a hug from Melissa, I watch my last couple of the evening leave my front yard, closing the door behind them.
“That went well,” I mumble to myself before returning to their chart and making a few last-minute notes before packing up my notebooks and planners for the day so I can now shift into resting at home for the rest of the evening.
I can’t wait until next week when I will no longer be holding my client sessions out of my house but finally in an office of my own. Working from home has been convenient, but now I’m itching to separate my personal and professional life. And the space I found is perfect, centrally located in LA so my clients don’t have to drive out of their way for their sessions.
