She’s had a long day, and she sleeps soon.
But not me.
I lie awake, worrying about what could’ve happened. If she’d lost the baby, it would’ve crushed her.
My knee is throbbing, and I try to rub at it without disturbing Mila, but it isn’t going to happen. The longer I lay in one spot, the more it seems to hurt. And when it hurts, it permeates every corner of my body. It doesn’t stay in my leg.
I lie still for as long as I can take it, then I finally wiggle out of Mila’s arms, and finagle my way to my feet. My knee threatens to give out again, but I steady myself, then limp down the hall to my study.
I stop only once, to poke my head inside Zu’s bedroom. Her blond head rests peacefully on her pillow, her hand curled under her chin.
I continue on my way, and stop just inside the door, pouring myself a drink. I pour a second one, and take it with me across the room.
Grimacing, I sit at my desk, and prop my leg up as best I can.
I let my head fall back, and I close my eyes, and Fuck, it hurts like a summabitch, as Gabe would say.
Mind over matter, I tell myself. Mind over matter.
But pain is a demanding mistress, and it refuses to be ignored.
“Again?” Natasha’s voice fills the room, and I open my eyes.
She’s concerned, in her robe again, and I nod.
“Yeah.”
“You know, I was thinking. I have some muscle relaxers that my doctor gave me for my back. Do you want to try them? Maybe they could help.”
She’s hesitant, but she wants to help, and it’s nice of her.
“Sure,” I tell her. “I’ll give anything a try at this point.”
She smiles. “Ok. I’ll be right back.”
True to her word, she comes back within minutes, and hands me a bottle.
“Keep them all,” she tells me. “I don’t use them.”
“Thank you.” I gulp two down with whiskey. Natasha stares at me.
“I don’t think you should take them with alcohol.”
“I think I’ll be fine. I weigh two-hundred pounds. These were prescribed for you, and you weigh… what... a hundred, soaking wet?”
“You flatter,” she smiles.
I wasn’t trying to.
“Should I make a doctor appointment for you tomorrow?” she asks. “I can be discreet, and Mrs. Tate won’t know.”
She almost sounds conspiratorial and I rush to set that straight.
“I don’t like keeping things from Mila,” I tell her. “I just don’t want her to be worried. Especially after tonight.”
“I understand completely,” she answers. “I’ll do my best to help you.”
She glances down at my leg, and I realize that I’m in a t-shirt and boxer-briefs. It’s almost indecent because you can see the bulge of my penis, but she doesn’t seem to notice, thank God.
“Your knee is swollen,” she points out. “I’ll get you an icepack.”
She’s on her way out the door before I think to protest. When she comes back, she settles it on my leg, and damned, if it doesn’t feel better.
“You should keep that iced,” she advises. “The more it swells, the more it will hurt.”
“That makes sense.”
“You never said if you want me to make an appointment?”
I shake my head. “No. They’re only going to tell me that I need surgery. There’s nothing more they can do until then.”
“So you’re just going to grin and bear it?”
“Well, I doubt I’ll be grinning, but yeah.”
“Good night, Mr. Tate.”
“Good night.”
I sit with the night a while, staring out the windows. The grounds here are manicured and lush, and they are quiet now. I smile, thinking about how Zuzu and her future brothers and sisters will run and play in the gardens. They will have the childhood that I never had. Of that, I am sure.
I think about that for a minute, my childhood.
I spent it with my father, and I always thought he resented me, that he didn’t like me.
But it turns out, that wasn’t the case. He just really missed my mother.
And I miss her too. She died when I was young, but I haven’t forgotten the way she smelled like honeysuckle, or the way she smiled at me like I was her whole world.
Mila is the kind of mother to Zuzu that my mother was to me. And I guess I just want her to have more chances to share that love. She’s got so much of it to give. I’d give anything to keep her from harm.
I’d sacrifice anything.
I don’t care if I fuck my leg up beyond all recognition and never walk again, Mila isn’t going to lose this baby. Not if I can help it.
I realize that I might not be rational about all of this, but after the childhood I had, I must be given some slack. I’m not always rational.
I’m restless and even though the whiskey and muscle relaxers have taken the edge off, I still feel the pain. I rub at it, and climb to my feet, and limp out to the garage.
I scan the darkness, and in the last slot, my baby sits.
Danger, my ‘69 Charger.
I walk through the darkness and when I get to her, I pull her tarp off. She still gleams, midnight black, and I drop into her driver’s seat. She’s mint condition, and fuck, I love this car.
It brings back so many memories, of the life I had before, of meeting Mila, of times after that, when Mila and I would roar down the highway on hour-long drives. Her hand would be on my leg, and her hair would be blowing out the open window.
I smile at the memory.
I’ve been so blessed, so very fortunate.
I would’ve died years ago in this very car if it hadn’t been for Mila.
She’d called the ambulance that saved my life.
I sprawl in the seat, and sit half in, and half out of the car. It smells like old leather in here, and it’s so very familiar. As soon as my knee is healed, I’m going to drive this car.
Fuck being driven.
I listen to the radio for a bit, and then I’m startled by a voice.
“Mr. Tate?”
Jesus, is Natasha going to turn up everywhere I go?
“Hi, Natasha.”
She bends down so she can see me.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes. I was… reminiscing.”
“Maybe you should go to bed,” she suggests. “You’re going to be so tired tomorrow.”
I stare at her. “Did you boss my grandfather around, too?”
She’s sheepish now. “I took care of your grandfather, yes. He liked it that way.”
The way she says that strikes me oddly. “You didn’t… I mean, you and he weren’t…”
She visibly shrinks back. “Oh, my lord. No. I viewed him like a father. That’s all. I wanted to take care of him because he worked so hard and rarely took care of himself.”
“Calm down,” I tell her, and I can’t help but smile. The whiskey and muscle relaxers have made me zen. More so than I’ve been in awhile. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
She stiffens her shoulders. “Being with Mr. Alexander wouldn’t be an insult,” she tells me. “It would be an honor.”
“He was fifty years older than you,” I point out.
She shrugs.
“Mr. Tate, you’re changing the subject. I really think you should rest.”
“And I really think you shouldn’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I’m fine.”
“You have a full schedule tomorrow.”
“And how would you know about that?”
“Sasha sends me your schedule every evening for the following day. It’s how your grandfather did it.”
“Huh. So if I forget something, I can ask you?”
“Exactly.”
“That will come in handy,” I admit. “What do I have tomorrow?”
“You have a meeting with Peter at eight a.m.”
I picture Peter’s stern face and pinched nose.
&nbs
p; “Fuck.”
“So, bed then?” she asks brightly, holding out her hand to help me up. I growl at her, but she’s right. I sigh.
“Yeah.”
She hefts me out of the car, and I even lean on her a little as we climb the handful of stairs leading out of the garage. My leg feels heavy and awkward, and I almost use her as a crutch. Something about her feels familiar, and it makes me comfortable. I can’t put my finger on it.
We’re just coming through the doorway when Mila bumps into us.
She’s wearing a robe, her hair is disheveled, and she’s horrified.
And that’s when I realize how this must look.
12
Chapter Eleven
Mila
I stare aghast at my husband, who is walking arm in arm with our new house-keeper out of a darkened garage. She’s wearing a robe, and he’s wearing a t-shirt and underwear.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Pax says quickly, and my heart… it thumps so loudly in my chest that I think he can probably hear it.
“No?” I ask, and my lips seem to be frozen.
“No,” Natasha stammers. “I just knew Mr. Tate was up, and so I went to check on him, and…”
“You went to check on him in the garage?” I ask, and I know I sound cold, but the girl is still holding onto my husband’s arm. She sees my gaze and releases him.
“Yes, m’am,” she acknowledges. “In the garage.”
“I was sitting in Danger,” Pax tells me, and I think he actually looks pale. “I was listening to the radio. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you. And why are you out of bed?”
“Because you were gone,” I tell him evenly. “And you didn’t come back. I waited for an hour, and then decided to come looking for you.”
“God, I’m sorry, babe,” he tells me and he touches my arm. I back away.
“Pax, why were you and Natasha holding onto each other, if it’s not what it looks like?”
He takes a breath, and when he does, when he exhales, I smell it.
Whiskey.
“Were you out there drinking?” I ask him, astounded. Because what the hell?
“No,” he rushes to tell me. “I had a drink in my office, hoping to settle down, but I wasn’t drinking out in the garage. I just… I missed my car so I went to sit in her.”
“With Natasha,” I say slowly.
“No. Natasha came to check on me. I wasn’t with Natasha.”
I’m still and I don’t know what to think and I’m not supposed to be walking around.
“I’m going back to bed,” I tell him. Natasha looks helpless and Pax is flustered. He trails next to me, and that’s when I realize that he’s limping again.
“Your knee is still bothering you,” I point out, turning to him.
“Just a little,” he answers. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Let’s go back to bed. You have to rest.”
I turn, and wordlessly walk the rest of the way and I notice that I have to slow down for Pax to keep up.
“You need to go back to the doctor,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “It’s not necessary right now, Red. Trust me.”
I climb back into the cool sheets and Pax lies down beside me.
“You swear to God nothing was going on with Natasha?”
I hate the suspicious tone in my voice. He’s never given me a reason to doubt him. Not ever. But I think any wife would question her husband coming out of a darkened garage with another woman in the middle of the night.
“I swear to God,” he says firmly. “Lord. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?”
“Well, I am pretty perfect,” I quip, relaxing. “I guess you’d be crazy.”
“I might be crazy,” he tells me. “But I’m not stupid. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not losing you. Not ever.”
“So you weren’t doing anything with Natasha?” I can’t help myself.
“God, no.” He’s firm and immediate.
“Ok.”
I curl onto my side, and close my eyes. But I open them a minute later.
“Pax?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Please don’t sit in a dark car with her again.”
“Promise.”
I grip his arm in my hands, and his muscle bulges beneath my fingertips.
“You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” he agrees. “There is no question about that.”
“Good.”
* * *
When I wake, Pax is gone. I must’ve been sleeping so hard that he didn’t want to wake me. It feels odd though, to start my day without kissing my husband.
When I go into the bathroom though, there’s a note taped to my mirror.
Babe, I love you. ONLY YOU. See you soon!
I can’t help but smile at that, and warmth floods my belly.
It’s weird how night-time makes a person think different thoughts than they would in the light of day. Pax would never betray me. Not ever. I know that.
Grimacing, I head back to bed.
I don’t want to, but I know that I can’t get up for a week.
Zuzu runs in to cuddle as soon as she’s asleep and shortly after, Chelcie arrives.
“Pax called me,” she says brightly, and she opens the drapes. “I’ll be here every day this week to look after Zu.”
“Thank you,” I tell her gratefully. “I’ll only be down for a week.”
“And I’m also supposed to make sure you stay down,” she tells me ruefully. “Sorry.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s ok. I’d expect nothing less out of Pax. I’m
My Peace Page 9
