Love Hurts

by J. J. Keller

  “Ladies and gentlemen, next week the final will be brutal. Bring your A-game.” Monsieur Barrett shut off his laptop. The projection showed a blue screen. “Unless you have questions, you’re excused.”

  Shania sluggishly loaded her bag with her books, pen and highlighter. Her classmates hurried out of the room. She placed the strap on her shoulder and picked up her portfolio. Barrett handed out graded work and Shania stuffed the papers inside the case. The A on her work didn’t matter. Monsieur’s decision about Justin’s art was more important.

  He stood close enough his breath moved hair onto her face. “Shania, come into my office.”

  She glanced at the wall clock, nine fifty. Fist tight around the bag handles, she followed him. He indicated for her to sit. Sliding onto the hardwood chair, she dropped the carriers to the floor, and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Did you instruct Justin on still life?” Monsieur Barrett’s eyes glittered with delight. His mouth, which she’d once believed to be a permanent frown, changed into a semi-smile.

  “Yes. He used my easel and created a sketch. The still is of a peach sitting on top of a book. He’d drawn a book before, so I thought it would be easier for him. The peach drawing, although not perfect in balance, is extraordinary in shading. Justin has a gift. His aptitude will far exceed mine and Beck’s.” She removed the sketch from her portfolio and handed the artistic rendition to the man.

  “Good. I knew he’d excel. You’ll bring him to class tomorrow?” He all but rubbed his hands together.

  Her breath caught. A simple nod had to suffice. Was she making a mistake, getting her son involved in public awareness of his talent?

  “I submitted a request to have Justin’s work put in the opening of the Longview Art Museum. However--” He shoved his fingers through his gray-black hair. “--Mrs. Hayden Longview has denied the entry unless…”

  Shania sat forward and scrubbed her face. Beck’s parents could deny Justin’s existence as much as they wanted. Why would they reject this one boon and manipulate her life in such a manner? “I’m surprised they recognized his name.”

  He tilted his chin, obviously shamefaced. “I notified them. Thought they’d want to know.”

  Bile rose from her stomach, catching in her throat. She picked up her bags. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want Justin to be exposed to the propaganda that comes with fame. Thank you, sir, for your attempt.”

  “Sit down, Miss Miller. They claim the child isn’t their son’s. The Longviews declared if you won’t tell people who you believe Justin’s father is and bring along your fiancé they’ll allow two pieces of Justin’s work in the opening.”

  “I’d never deny Justin his heritage, especially since Beck doesn’t have control over his mental facilities.” This entire conversation was ludicrous in nature, and it was unbelievable that the Longviews talked openly with her professor about a personal matter.

  “Beck has completely recovered.” His keen eyes focused on her.

  Her throat felt dry as she forced the vomit down. She hadn’t known about Beck’s recovery, but she was thankful. Later she’d digest the fact the Longviews felt obligated to deny Justin’s relationship to Beck. Had they investigated Justin’s birth?

  “Who did they say was my fiancé?” Shania’s heart pumped as fast as the ten o’clock bells in the tower. She couldn’t imagine what they were thinking declaring she was engaged.

  He tugged a small yellow sticky-note from his pocket. “Dr. Adam Raimo.”

  What? How had this happened? What possible benefit would the Longviews get from making her claim she was engaged to Adam? Why would they believe he was her fiancé? Had they been spying on her? The entire situation was too much to bear. She licked her lips and swallowed. “Thank you, Monsieur. If you’ll give me Justin’s artwork, I’ll take it home with me.”

  Before she took her next breath, Monsieur jumped out of his chair. “No. You can’t. His work is groundbreaking. The find alone will be documented in the best, highest-rated art magazines. I’ll be famous. Write my ticket to any university I desire. I cannot allow this. I won’t let you take the opportunity away from me.”

  She shook her head, trying to decide what to do. She would reclaim Justin’s work and try to get out of this deplorable situation with her grade still intact. “I’m not engaged to Adam. I’ll take Justin’s work now.”

  “If I’m able to get Justin’s work displayed in another venue, not Longviews’, then can I exhibit the sketches?” he insisted.

  “I don’t think public exposure at age three is a great idea.”

  His face paled. Was he thinking about the impact his loose tongue had made? He probably thought the Longviews would be rife with gratification to know their grandson possessed such a gift. Why hadn’t Monsieur talked to her first?

  His eyes narrowed. “I’ll try to get his art into another show. If I do, we’ll decline Mr. and Mrs. Longviews’ very considerate offer. In the meantime I’ll contact the Longviews and postpone giving them an answer.”

  Her stomached stopped its frantic flipping and settled back to normal.

  “We have until next Saturday. Do you think you can find a real or fake fiancé by then?” His lips tightened into place.

  At his announcement her pulse darted to race mode again. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. No, her mind screamed. At age twenty-three, she’d never imagined dealing with this type of situation. Her stomach muscles cramped in anxiousness stirring the contents as she contemplated her choices.

  She glanced at the clock, ten. She’d miss the last bus to her apartment if she didn’t leave now.

  “I don’t know. No. Probably. I need to leave.” She needed to get out. Being coerced wasn’t something she enjoyed. She had to consider the facts before she made a decision.

  “I’ll call the Longviews early tomorrow and ask for a couple of days. I’ll let you know what they say after class.” He pounded an index finger on his desk, a fast rap.

  She nodded and ran out of his office. The white and red stripped bus crept away from the curb. She ran forward, shouting. A sympathetic soul must have asked the driver to stop. Shania jumped on board the second the doors opened. Seated, she slowed her breathing and dropped her head into her hands. Despite the Longviews’ urging for her to disappear when she was three months pregnant with their grandchild, they would never stay out of her life. She didn’t understand. Beck had been liberated from her. The ring returned. Freedom apparently didn’t close a gate to meddling.

  “Last stop,” the bus driver declared.

  She numbly rose from the seat and followed the other passengers off. Her portfolio dragged along the steps as she climbed to the top floor of the apartment building. She leaned her head against the door. No way in. She’d left her key with Morgan.

  Like a sledgehammer her hand fell onto the knob. After a slight turn, it rolled and opened. Morgan thought of her. Her true knight--forever?

  The desk lamp on the foyer table provided a dim glow. He wasn’t sitting on the sofa waiting as she’d expected.

  She dropped her bags inside, shut and locked the door. A shrug and her coat fell off, adding to the pile in the mini-foyer. She stepped over the heap and went into the bathroom. Teeth brushed, clothing exchanged for a brown tank top and matching boxers, she shuffled into the bedroom, leaving jeans, top and undergarments on the floor.

  Currently, her knight was sprawled on her bed. Justin must have worn him out. Toddlers expelled a great deal of energy and Morgan wasn’t use to the pace. She climbed onto the mattress beside Morgan and drew the covers up to her chest. She willed her breathing to slow and the pounding against her ribs stopped.

  A glance. Eyes closed, lashes resting on his cheeks were model perfect. The shadow of a beard, slight blond bristles, created an odd tingle down in her belly. In the past a simple gaze from him ignited heat in the space between her thighs.

  This would be the first time she’d ever shared a bed with a man for an entire night.
What typically happened when a woman woke in bed with a man? With a guy who made her want to sing blissful tunes?

  She wouldn’t think about his lips. Exhausted in mind and body she tried to relax. She reviewed her conversation with her professor and quickly jumped to her psychology professor’s lecture yesterday. He had said, “With all journeys in life, it is necessary to review the past before moving on to the future.”

  Shania reflected back to that cold October day, four years ago.

  * * * *

  “Morgan, I need to tell you something important in person and ask you to take me somewhere,” she whispered into her parents’ landline phone. Bags packed, tears dried, she was prepared to leave. Her parents hadn’t accepted her decision to keep the baby. Maybe Beck’s family would.

  “I’ll be there in five.” He drove his 4x4 truck onto the brick driveway exactly five minutes later. Shania and Watson--her parents’ houseman--stood beside piles of luggage.

  Morgan stepped out of the truck. His eyes held a glint of curious fear. He glanced at the bag. The spark changed into anger. “What’s going on?”

  “Thank you, Watson. Morgan will help me.” She shook the man’s hand.

  “Good luck, Miss Shania,” he replied and silently left.

  “What happened?” Morgan hugged her. Over the past three months, since Beck deployed, they’d become closer. She appreciated his quiet personality, gentle nature and dependability.

  “The short version, I’m pregnant. My parents want me to have an abortion. I refused. Now, I need to find out if Beck’s parents will help me.” She caught her breath. At nineteen, she had a life growing inside her and the possibility of nowhere to go. Thank goodness for Morgan.

  He stepped away and grabbed the two pieces of luggage. “All right. It’ll be a two, almost three hour drive. Are you up for it?”

  She wiped the tears running down her face. What choice did she have? She cleared her sore throat. “Yes. Thank you, Morgan.”

  Jaw tight, he gave her a brief smile and nodded. He carried two bags to his truck and hoisted them in the back. He assisted her inside. On the way to Briarwood she explained her parents’ reaction. They wanted Beck as a son-in-law and grandchildren, but not in the reverse order, especially not knowing if the child had been fathered by Beck. Shania explained her mother’s wish to have her remain pure until marriage. Their lack of trust, disappointment and rejection hurt, deep down, cutting into her core.

  Two bathroom stops later they drove near the iron gates of Beck’s home. Morgan pressed the monitor button on the security box outside his window.

  “Morgan Hardwick and Shania Miller.”

  “Sure, drive in, Morgan.” Mr. Longview’s smiling image came onto the screen of the miniature plasma.

  “They like you,” Shania whispered, holding her hand to her stomach, hoping she wouldn’t vomit on their beautiful lawn.

  “Beck and I’ve been friends since freshman orientation.” He tapped her black trousers as if to say, “relax.”

  Her clothes fit tighter. What would she do when she couldn’t get into any of her pants?

  Beck’s parents were very nice to Morgan and pleasant to her. Conversation about Beck and his tour overseas complete, Shania controlled her shaking hands and presented the topic.

  “I’m going to be blunt, because it’s getting late. I’m pregnant. My parents are not willing to help me, so I’m begging you to please assist me, emotionally and financially. I wouldn’t be a bother. I’d stay in Beck’s room.” She bit her lip and clasped her hands on her lap.

  Mr. Longview frowned and got up to get a refill on his drink. Whiskey, by the golden hue of the liquid. The silence was profound. Shania glanced at Morgan to see if he could give her a clue. His face remained impassive. She knew him well enough by now to recognize his green eyes glittered with anger.

  “No, Shania,” Mrs. Longview snarled. “You’re a Jezebel. I told Beck you’d trap him into marriage. Is that why you became engaged, because you were pregnant?” Mrs. Longview jumped from the sofa. “I saw you coming out of Tom’s apartment. Your hair was wet and you were flushed, as if you’d fornicated.”

  “Whoa. You’re going too far with this, Mrs. Longview. I’ve known Shania for six months or more and I can vouch for her. She doesn’t have the character for such a thing. Beck loves her.” Morgan stood and held out his hand to Shania.

  She used the padded part of the cherry armrests as leverage and rose from the pink striped chaise. Her legs wobbled as the impact of their opinion took root. The Longviews dismissed her. She glanced at the ring representing a promise made by Beck. Had he known his parents weren’t in favor of the union?

  “We’ll deny the child, Miss Miller,” Mrs. Longview stated as Morgan grasped Shania’s arm. “You will not get any of our money. Thank goodness Beck didn’t act rashly and marry you before he left the States.”

  Tears ran down Shania’s face, but she choked back the sobs. She wouldn’t allow them to hear her pain. She couldn’t ask them for Beck’s address, or it’d confirm he didn’t care for her. Why hadn’t he written?

  The maid opened the door. Morgan held tightly onto her arm. She would have fallen if he hadn’t. He helped her into his truck and climbed behind the steering wheel. What could he possibly think of her? Tom or Too Many was Morgan’s friend. Would Morgan believe the infidelity accusation?

  Where would she go? How would she live? She wanted to hide her shame.

  Morgan pounded his fist against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. They were despicable.”

  She dug through her purse clanking items together to cover her snivels. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw tightened and a tic appeared below his left cheek. “I didn’t do what they said, Morgan.”

  “I know. Don’t worry, I promised Beck I’d take care of you. I’ll find someplace for you to stay. I’ll help you, Shania.”

  The sobs broke free. She turned away from Morgan, dragged a tissue from the inside of her bag and stifled the noise. Her stomach vibrated with the agony. She’d always done the right thing. One variation, having sex with a man, her fiancé, had created a vortex. Her parents and her lover’s parents abandoned her. Doubted her. Morgan had been her lifesaver.

  * * * *

  Shivers ran over her body as the horrible memories ended. She turned onto her side. M-two held sentry outside the window of her university apartment bedroom and the real Morgan lightly breathed beside her. She loved him.

  Would Morgan be her knight and help her once again?

  Chapter 11

  Morgan had slept deeply, something he hadn’t done in the past four years. Heat radiated his left side and while not uncomfortable, it was unfamiliar. Could Patty have snuck into his bed again? He’d told her to never stay over until they were married. No, they’d separated.

  A whiff of vanilla, baby oil and a scent uniquely Shania’s flowed under his nose. He must be hallucinating. The desire to have her beside him in bed drove him to smell her, if only he could taste her lips, he’d freely forfeit his mind. He’d masturbated every time he envisioned Shania removing her bridesmaid’s dress and running down the hallway. He’d never glimpsed her unclothed body until then--she’d always been an image in a dream. A radiant beauty rested right beside him in bed making him the luckiest damn man on planet Earth.

  Morgan opened his eyes to see her lightly breathing, blowing her short light brown locks away from her face. Two months ago her waist-length hair gave the appearance of naivety, like a young and untried Samson. The new short and sassy style emphasized her life’s experiences, the battles she’d taken on and won or lost. She’d been an insecure female before and now she was a strong and confident woman and mother.

  He glanced at Justin. Through the filmy gauze curtain he could see the little boy, arms flung wide in sleep. Morgan shifted onto his side, reached and pushed the hair behind Shania’s ear. She moaned and flopped onto her back. A soft mellow sigh flowed from her perfect lips.

  His gaze trav
eled the length of her body and focused on her delectable breasts. Her tank top had pulled tight against her chest. Her nipples peaked, as if they sensed his desire to taste them.

  He inched closer, placing an arm on her other side, and kissed her.

  “Morgan,” she whispered, making his name sound like a gift granted from the sleep fairy.

  A gentle touch to her lips, a light nibble, was what he’d planned, until she murmured his name. Then he wanted everything, to touch her skin and make sweet passionate love with her.

  Her amber eyes opened. Their gazes latched. A glimmer of happiness changed to sparkling pleasure. His fingers caressed her face, then he kissed her. Not the gentle nice-to-see-you-Aunt Betty, but a full-force lip locking. His tongue touched hers. Upon the invitation she joined in the thrust and parry game. Too soon, his cock infused with desire and filled his pants. His greatest need was to reach toward her. His hips shifted, giving her space. He took a tense breath. As he slowly exhaled, he weaved his fingers through her hair.

  She moved closer and kissed his neck. Breasts larger than his hands pressed tight to his chest. Her palms caressed his back. His hand sinfully touched her firm thigh. He stroked the backside of her knees, then her soft inner skin between her legs. His finger smoothed the groove of her folds and felt the wetness flooding her panties.

  “Mommy,” Justin said. His voice was close.

  Morgan rubbed his forehead against hers, licked her lips tasting her one more time, and flopped back.

  Her breath came out in quick burst of air. He closed his eyes, she was as excited about the possibility of them being together as he was.

  She inhaled, groaned, and then leaned on her elbow. “Good morning, honey.”

  “Peaches and crunch cereal?” Justin asked.

  Morgan squinted to look at Justin. The child wrapped his hand around his favorite blue blanket. Morgan smiled and patted the covers beside him. Justin climbed up and snuggled. Morgan draped his arm around his son. Shania lay down on his other side. He entwined his fingers with hers. His family. Today, he’d ask Shania to marry him--forever.