Ethans Fal

by Dee Palmer

  “I’ll um…give you two a minute.” Dad smoothly exits the room and closes the door behind him.

  “I like that you’re keen, but I think it’s bad form to keep the vicar waiting or to have me dribbling down your legs walking up the aisle, for that matter.” I step up to her, cup her arse cheeks and grind my impossible hard erection against her delicate, lace panties. She plants her hands on my chest to push a little distance but I keep the contact where it matters.

  “You don’t have to do this, Ethan.” Her brow is knitted together with seriousness.

  “But I like doing this.” I nudge and grind a little more just to elicit that little whimper that drives me mad. Oh, there it is.

  “Hmm.” She gasps but pushes a little harder on my chest and stares at me. “No, Ethan…I mean you don’t have to do this…marry me…I’m sure I’ll get Pip back soon anyway so you don’t have to do this.” She lets out a breath like she has been practising that painful speech and it hasn’t helped finally getting it out.

  “Oh, okay, well let’s just do it and if I meet someone hotter…you know…we’ll just get a divorce.” I state flatly.

  “What?” Her mouth drops.

  “Sorry…I thought we were just saying ridiculous things to each other…your turn.” I tap her lightly on the nose. She tries to shift away but I pick her up and she wraps those gorgeous legs tight around me. I am going to have the hard on from Hell all fucking day as her intimate heat brands my cock.

  “Ethan, I just don’t want you to do–” She tries to add something else but I interrupt.

  “I was going to ask Sky to join us on the honeymoon.” She narrows her eyes and I raise my brow as a challenge for her to continue.

  “Ethan, you’re being…childish.” She gasps when I push my not so childish erection against her dripping core.

  “Childish you say…I love you with all my heart…want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with you and you think I’m doing this out of some misplaced sense of obligation. I know you will get Pip back with or without me. I want to marry you and if that makes me childish, I’ll throw a tantrum right here to make sure you say ‘I do’.” I purse my lips and she giggles and covers them with hers, tender sweetness I can never get enough of. I moan when she slips her tongue and teases me with a light dance, sensual strokes, and a gentle undulation of her wetness against my straining rock-solid length. “You think this happens every day, angel?” I whisper as we both try to catch our breath. She sucks in her bottom lip and shakes her head. “Words, angel, I need to hear the words.”

  “No, Ethan.” Her lips start the journey to uncontainable happiness.

  “No.” I repeat and just to clarify her doubt, I make my next question a statement. “Marry me.”

  “Okay.” I get the deepest sense of something so pure, knowing I put that amazing smile right there. I am going to spend every day of my life making sure it stays right there.

  The ceremony was perfect, informal and intimate. The men all wore tailored cream board shorts, navy linen jackets, pale blue button-down shirts, and matching ties. Ada wore a cream silk chiffon full-length dress, masses of material gathered at her waist that flowed like water when she moved. A delicate silver embroidered belt attached hundreds of silver woven threads from the back of her waistband to her collar, a tiny pleated halter neck, billowed and skimmed her perfection. She took my breath away. I hold her in my arms for the first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Cates and it’s my turn to return the favour. She throws her head back with a full laugh when I spin and twist her sharply around my body, turning and dipping, gliding around the tiny space created for us. Our small reception closed the bar for the afternoon and evening and is crammed with our nearest and dearest. She clings to my body, I can feel her heart hammer against mine, and she is rightly panting for more air. I’m not nearly done but she freezes in my arms, her eyes fixed wide starring over my shoulder at the door. She releases her hold and slides free from my arms.

  Pip is standing in the doorway, half curled against her mum…her other mum. The package Ada’s father gave up, held little more than a name, Dr. and Mrs. Winters. The next day we started the process of reconnecting, through lawyers at first, then emails, photos, and a few sadly awkward Skype calls. Nearly three months of waiting for this moment, but we never thought they would actually come. She smiles and tugs on her mum’s skirt, the woman, Michelle Winters, squeezes her husband’s hand. He places his other hand protectively on his wife’s shoulder. She smiles kindly and gives an encouraging nod to Pip, who turns and with all the confidence in the world strides up to Ada and me. Ada drops down to her knees so she is eyes level with Pip, I drop to my haunches so I don’t tower over them both.

  “You’re really pretty.” Pip swings her hips, her smile bursting through the shyness.

  “And you’re really beautiful.” Ada’s hands twitch to touch her daughter but she hesitates and grips her own dress to stop herself. Pip hands Ada a small bunch of daisies that are wilting from the sweaty tight grip of the five year old little girl.

  Ada sags a little like she has been given the little girl’s heart. Pip stares at Ada, her nose wrinkles and her tiny blond brows crease together. She tilts her head and a tumble of lose blonde locks falls over her face, which she promptly sweeps back with obvious irritation. Her blue eyes sparkle and are just as deep as Ada’s, her golden skin is more like her fathers and I have no idea where that mass of blonde comes from.

  “Do you like my dress?” Pip holds out the abundance of skirt material, taffeta and silk layers of pale pink all tied together in a sparkly waistband.

  “It is very pretty…Is it new?” Ada asks softly, although the room is almost silent. Pip nods.

  “My mummy bought it for me.” She turns to see her mummy and I see Ada pinch her eyes tight but flashes a brave smile before Pip turns back. “My other mummy.” Pip waves to her other mum, who steps forward and scoops Pip into her arms. Ada stands and reaches for my hand, we are both speechless.

  Dr. and Mrs. Winters were family friends, Ada knew them vaguely and knew they had tried for years to have a baby. She even felt bad that she was going to try and take Pip away from them. She knew how heartbroken Michelle was, but not as heartbroken as Ada would have been, if she hadn’t tried. We both expected a fight so we stand and wait, hearts on our sleeves.

  “I didn’t know, Arti…I am so sorry for what you went through. We didn’t know. Your father told us you wanted rid…” She checks herself and hugs Pip a little tighter. “He said it was what you wanted.” Her husband step in behind his wife.

  “We won’t fight you on this, Ada, we just ask, if it is at all possible, that we can still be part of her life. We understand–”

  “Of course…of course.” Ada rushes out, elated at this news; relieved, euphoric and giddy. “I don’t know what to say…I’ve waited so long…I…” Her words catch and her eyes glaze with unshed tears as she looks at me and I wipe the first tear with my thumb.

  “I told her she had two mummies,’” Michelle adds. “Her friend at play group has two mummies so she understands that. But I told her you were her real mummy and I was taking care of her until you were ready.” Michelle explains and Pip is nodding with complete understanding, which is refreshing because I am still a little dazed. “I said that one day soon she could come and stay with you and then–” She bites her lips and slowly closes her eyes at the pain that is so obviously tearing her apart. Ada closes the gap and wraps her arms around them both.

  “We’ll take it slow, Michelle.” Her soft reassurance gives Michelle all she needs to compose herself. “I like the idea that Pip has two mummies, especially when I can see what a wonderful mummy you are.” Michelle lets out a happy sob and tries to dry her eyes but has her hands occupied. Pip wriggles and opens her arms toward Ada, not even a moment of hesitation and she has her arms tight around Ada’s neck. She could be squeezing the life out of my wife, and I think Ada would just die happy

  “Are you my daddy, to
o?” Pip looks right into me, the blunt question hits me hard. Ada turns to me and I flash my most winning smile, hoping to God it works on five year olds.

  “Yes.” I don’t hesitate, it’s really not up for negotiation…none of that if you want that would be great. Fuck, that uncertainty…Hell yes, I’m the Daddy.

  Six months later.

  “OH, MY ADA…You look so well. Come in…come in.” Sheila crushes the air from my lunges on the stairs to the studio. I haven’t seen her for a good five months and promised the next time we were down I would do one last sitting for her. She is desperate to finish the final piece and I have been more than a little useless to her, but I owe her this much at the very least.

  “So, how have you been? How long are you down for? Did you bring your little one…you must bring her in. We can get up to all sorts of mischief in here, don’t you think?” She hands me my robe and I disappear behind the screen laughing at her understatement.

  “Oh, I don’t think… I know.” I start to undress. Shortly after the wedding Ethan rented us a house near the Winters’ family home. We wanted to make the transition for Pip as smooth as was possible. There were some legal formalities but under the circumstances that paled into insignificance when it was Pips happiness at stake. I wasn’t going to rip her from the only family she knew and I was quite serious that I wanted Michelle and her husband to be a part of her life. She would never have contact with her biological grandparents, so an extra set of ‘parents’ that would love her unconditionally, was welcome.

  I spent as much time as possible with her and last week she moved in full time. This week is our first family holiday and while I model for Sheila, Ethan has taken Pip to the beach to build the best sandcastle, ever. Because it is a competition, apparently.

  “You’ll regret saying that when Ethan brings her round later…she’s like a mini hurricane. Just move anything of value.” I warn. Sheila tsks and waves her hand dismissively.

  “Nonsense…no fun in art if you can’t get a little messy.” I wave my hand in surrender and shake my head. I tried to warm her. She positions me where she wants me and I drop my rode.

  “Oh, Ada you didn’t say, congratulations.” Sheila’s eyes drop to my belly and I blush from tip to toe.

  “Rude much!” I slap my hand across the slight roundness. “Sheila, I’ve gained a little I’m not pregnant…I’m really bad at finishing Pip’s meals…and biscuits and treats. Anyway, I’m really bad at leaving stuff…a throwback from sleeping rough but I don’t look pregnant for Christ sake!” My voice is pitched with indignation.

  “No, sweetie, you don’t look pregnant…You are pregnant. I’d bet my next commission on it.” She rests her hands on her hips and raises a challenging brow filled with confidence at her assertion.

  “No!” I mouth, my confidence wavering. “It’s impossible!” I stumble against the wall and Sheila quickly positions a stool for me to sit on. She hands me a glass of water and tells me to drink it all and not to move. It’s not a difficult task–I am literally frozen.

  I don’t know how long I sit on that stool but when the front door slams and the studio door opens, my bottom is decidedly numb. Sheila slips her cardigan off, strides over to me, and tips the contents of the scrunched up paper bag into my lap. The ominous white pregnancy testing kit box lays heavy in my hands. My fingers quickly open the end and I grab the plastic pen like it’s a magic wand. Is it a magic wand? I look at her, wide-eyed and still in shock. “Sheila, I can’t get pregnant. The doctors told me it was impossible.” I remain seated, my heart is hammering with a mix of hope and doom.

  “And we all know doctors are never wrong.” She tips her head for me to move, then lifts me by my elbow to help the process. “When was your last period?”

  “I don’t know…I mean I don’t really have them. Blessed that way…I did a lot of ballet when I was younger, but when everything kicked off puberty-wise I still didn’t really get them…or if I did they were really light.” I wrack my brain to think of an actual period…nope.

  “Hmm, well you will need a doctor to confirm how far along you are then.” She muses, so confident in her assessment of my ‘condition’. “Go on then…let’s get to the point where I can smugly say ‘I told you so’.” She hurries me out of the studio and into the tiny toilet, with no mirror or sink. It is pretty much one step up from a hole in the ground. Those few minutes, I swear take years off my life. My hands tremble as the fierce dark blue tick appears screaming my own personal miracle.

  I haven’t said a word in over twenty minutes, I haven’t managed to sip any of the sweet tea Sheila had placed carefully in my one free hand. The other is holding the pregnancy test in a death grip of white knuckles and nerves. I just can’t believe it…It’s just not possible. I hear the heavy footfall on the stairs outside and Ethan bursts through the door. I watch him like I am watching a scene from the footlights in a play–near but not quite taking part. He carefully places Pip on the floor and Sheila entices her over to a pristine white spread of a canvas and a tray of multi-coloured paints. Ethan is kneeling in front of me, his eyes filled with concern. He tucks my hair away from my face and cups my cheeks.

  “Hey, angel…what’s wrong? You scared the crap out of Sheila and you are doing a pretty good job doing the same with me.” His thumb strokes my cheek and my lips curl into his touch, a tentative smile as I start to comprehend my news.

  “A baby.” I manage with a croaky voice. He looks over his shoulder and chuckles.

  “A little faith might be nice, Ada…she’s fine and we built the most amazing–” He starts to boast but I silence him with my quiet life changing statement.

  “I’m pregnant.” I unfurl my fingers, revealing the very positive result on the thin white plastic stick.

  “What?” he gasps. It’s my turn to tip his jaw shut. “Angel?” His question sounds hesitant like if he said it with any firmness my declaration would disintegrate under interrogation. I let out an incredulous bubble of laughter and hold my hands open. His eyes flick to the pen with the thick blue tick and back to me, and then back to the pen. “Seriously?” I nod, but I don’t get the chance to speak as his lips cover mine, his hands thread into my hair. He worships me with heavenly, reverent kisses, a heady mix of delicate and fervour. “We’re going to have another baby, Angel.” He breaks the contact of our lips his forehead still pressed to mine as I try and catch my breath and a tentative grip on this new reality.

  “Um, yeah…It would appear so.” I still bite back my own smile because it just feels surreal. Ethan drops his hand to my tummy and I shrug.

  “I was going to start running on the beach in the morning to try and shift it.” I pat my little mound. “I thought it was all the leftovers I’ve been eating off Pip’s plate.” He laughs.

  “Yeah well, I’m fuc…flipping glad.” He glances over to Pip checking his language was suitably censored. “That it isn’t the leftovers because I’ve been doing the same.” He pats his ripped, taut stomach and arches a brow. “One miracle is enough, don’t you think?” I nod and let out a nervous, excited, uncontrollable laugh.

  “Are you okay with this?” I ask because however we look at this, it is unexpected.

  “Hell no!” His brows furrow in a deep serious frown, which he can only hold for a moment before his smile cracks his face into the most stunning smile. “Oh, I thought we were back to saying ridiculous things again.” He sweeps me into his arms and I squeal with surprise. I wrap my naked legs around his waist and he groans. My modesty is barely covered by my robe. Sheila coughs,

  “Um, you might need to keep this a little more PG than your last studio session.” She nods to Pip, who is paying us no attention and is completely engrossed in the considerable mess she is making with her fingers and the paint. I flush with heat at my recollection and the feel of Ethan pressed hard against my body. I don’t think he even has those letters in his alphabet. But he does lower my legs to the ground. His eyes boring through me, scorching me, and br
anding my heart and soul.

  “You know what you are, Ada?” His deep raspy voice makes my hairs tingle.

  “What am I, Ethan?” I swallow thickly. I can’t breathe. My heart pounds, my chest aches with every beat, nerves tingle for him, hairs prickle with anticipation. I’m waiting on the precipice, adored and treasure, alive and in love…I wait with bated breath.

  “Mine.” He states emphatically and I fall.

  The End

  I completely understand why authors start this section with an apology for missing anyone. My list of thank you’s has grown considerably this year since I first pressed the publish button and I am rightly worried I will forget someone. I’ll start with a blanket THANK YOU EVERYONE…yeah because that should cover my arse…not.

  So I am going to start with some key players: A huge thank you to Joan Readsalot, pretty much there for me from day one. I am so grateful for your honesty and constant unwavering support. My other Beta readers, Melinda Smith, Kayla Adkins, Amy Adkins, Lauren Danielle and Heather Callahan…thank you so much for your invaluable input into making Ethan’s story that much better. My street team, especially Kris Ward(Gold Star Pimper), Susan Ritter, Kim Whaley, Heather Kallam, Beverley Norcross, Missy Nuebeckera…I see you babies…pimping my ass! But all my street team, Sara Burk, Norma (Not officially a member but I know you pimp), Sandra Cohen, Keitha Brassard and Lidjia,Urioc …I love you ladies…you totally rock!

  Barbara Shane Hoover…words fail me…I am so grateful for your grammar ocd…I can’t even…Francesca, Stacey, Philippa and Angie for their technical help…the furious legs beneath the calm swan..no I’m not the swan…Ethan’s Fall is the swan…I’m the arse-end in charge of the steering. Neda my new publicist…this may be premature but I know we’re going to make a great team so I’m going to thank you in advance.

  This bit may look a little strange because I am going to thank people that may have no knowledge that they affected me in any way…but nevertheless I am grateful…so thank you to Kitty French, Stylo Fantome, Christine D Reiss, Tiffany Riesz, Jodi Ellen Malpas, Jodi Marie Maliszewski, M Never, LP Lovell, Pepper Winters, Kelsey Burns, SVC Ricketts, Saya and Lynn. Bloggers: Missy’s Book Blog, Philomela (2 friends), MichelleAfterDarkBookLovers, Stacey, Claire, Amy, Vicki and Vivienne at Fictional Mens Room, Kelly at Our Kindle Konfessions, Jesey at Schmexy Girl, Samantha at RedHotRomance, Mel and Gayle Bloggers from Down Under