He pauses, waiting for me to say something, but I’m speechless. It’ll be a minute before it all sinks in.
Zayne reaches for my fingers and pulls them toward him. “I wish I could say that I’m detached from this decision, but the truth is I’m hopelessly dedicated to you and whatever you decide. I don’t expect you to give me an answer tonight, or tomorrow even. Take all the time you need.”
The crickets continue to shower me with noise, the darkness surrounding me while I stare down at him with a slack jaw. He’s serious. He’s actually looking for a commitment. I’ve been drowning my sorrows with liquor all night, scared to death by how his absence was making me feel and how I’ve ruined another woman’s life, but he’s not even married. Is this man for real?
All this anxiety and relief makes me light-headed, and I feel the world falling out from around me. I fall limply into Zayne’s arms and he catches me.
“Clarisse.” He lays me in the grass and moves the hair out of my eyes as I blink awake instantly, cherishing even this unusual moment we’re sharing.
“You’re not ready,” he admits, kneeling next to me. “I shouldn’t have forced you to dance with me. I shouldn’t have pulled you away from your friends. God, damn it, I should know better.” His fingers touch over my cheek and under my chin as he sighs. “You’re still grieving. I should have turned you away that first night in my office. It was greed that stopped me from turning you away. I want you, Clarisse, but you need more time to heal. Hell, maybe you don’t even want me back.”
Our eyes clash. He couldn’t have it more wrong. Is that why he thinks I’ve nearly passed out? Zayne helps me back to my feet and holds me gently. He makes sure I’m steady on my feet before letting me go.
“I want you, Clarisse. I think you know that. When you’re ready to push aside the guilt and accept that Finlay was mentally unstable and you were doing the right thing—” His voice cuts off like he’s struggling to remain composed. “There’s nothing else you could have done.”
We’re not going there tonight. “Don’t do that. Don’t try and doctor me. His death is not what I’m hung up on right now.”
“The lies. The fact that I’m not married.” He thinks he knows.
I shake my head. “I don’t care about that. I want to be with you, too.”
That renders him silent and stunned. I take the opportunity to catch a breath and wipe away the spoiled emotions.
“I’ve wanted you for a while now, Clarisse. Circumstances,” he emphasizes, “have kept us apart.”
His thumb softly caresses my cheek. My eyes close when he tilts my head upwards. “I don’t want to mess up those perfect, red lips,” he whispers. “And when I kiss you, I don’t want it to be forced by pride or despair. I don’t want it to be because you’re drunk and I’m depressed. I want it to be because you want me for me.”
Another second passes with my lips begging for his kiss. I peek out of half-lidded eyes to see what the hold-up is, and huff, because I know now that he has no plans of kissing me tonight. I’m frustrated to say the least, but it’s probably the smartest thing Zayne has done to date. If he kisses me now, it’ll lead to other things, and we’ll never be able to get back to this place again. I hate to admit it but he’s right.
The words want to whip from my mouth, but Zayne stops me. He knows how difficult it is for me to trust him. How he knows, I don’t understand, but his eyes show that he understands; and like that, I’m lost.
“It’s okay,” he answers. “One day soon we can be together and it’ll mean something.”
I’m still stunned that he’ll even entertain a relationship with a cold-blooded killer. “Why, Zayne? Why are you the only one that doesn't look at me like I'm a murderer?”
“Because I refuse to believe that you are. I’ve dealt with a lot of crazies in my day, and you—my beautiful black widow—aren’t one of them.”
I’m entranced by his words and by the fact that he’s not strong enough to spare me a kiss. He might secretly be the only good man I know. It’s unfortunate that it has to be this way. He thinks I’m normal, that I wasn’t born with the curse of mental instability. He thinks it’s safe to get closer to me. You would think years of education in the field of psychology would have taught him a thing or two about women like me.
“How can you be so sure?” I warn him. “Bad things cling to me and I can't seem to shed the rotten luck.”
“I can’t be.” He smirks at that admission and leans forward to kiss my cheek. “But at least I’ll have you.”
17: His Death Sentence
Many Moons Later
We’re in love Zayne and I, and although living with the man has been a bit trying, he’s a good guy and works hard to make me happy. It takes effort to make our relationship work, and I quickly learn that having a college crush and actually spending a lifetime with a person are two very different scenarios.
“Marry me,” Zayne says, retrieving a sparkly silver thing from his pocket. “I know it sounds crazy, but I want to show you how much I love you and prove to you that we can live a long, happy life together, because you are not some arachnid entity that magically kills off her lovers.”
I inwardly sigh. We’ve discussed this before. I’m not cut out to be his trophy wife. “You're already taking a chance on your life by inviting me into your home. You know the risk if you permanently accept me into your life, Zayne. I’ll tell you that right now.”
He lifts his chiseled chin and smirks. “I’ll live.”
The mischief in his eyes makes me want to believe him, but I’m not that naïve. “You think so.”
He doesn’t stand a chance.
He's not amused anymore, and that’s just wonderful because I'm not trying to be funny.
“You're not cursed, Clare.” His anger quickly burns off into a smile. “I’ll prove it to you.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’ll die a happy man, knowing I gave you something worth living for, if only for a short while.” He forces the dainty ring onto my finger.
He can be so darn cute sometimes, but I know in my heart that he’s only doing this because he’s afraid to be alone. “That’s very sweet of you, Zayne, but are you sure about this? You’ve already been down this road before and look at where you landed. Besides, I’ve told you repeatedly that I can’t be trusted. Do you really want to be linked to me and all my emotional baggage permanently?”
“Yes.”
I hate his simple answers, but my scowl still manages to fade into a smile. “Have you listened to a single thing I’ve told you these past few months? I wasn’t lying.”
He smirks, analyzing me with his psychology degree like I’m some kind of pet project. “Honestly, Clare? I love you. I want to be with you, and I’m sure one day those horrible accusations will fade and you’ll find a permanent place in your heart for me, right up there with those old memories, because that’s all they’ll be—memories.”
“That’s a morbid decision, lover.” I crawl onto his lap and dangle my hands over his shoulders, smiling. It’s his life. “I feel like I need to give you something in exchange for your death sentence.”
His eyebrows pop up and down repeatedly, matching his mischievous smile. “There is this one other thing you can give me.”
The look on his face has me thinking it’s something sexual, but I soon learn I have him pegged so wrong this time. His palm smooths over my belly in a circular motion.
“You're joking.” I twirl off of his lap, but he pulls me back onto him with a bear hug.
“I’m not.” His voice growls in my ear as he continues to massage my flat belly like he's cherishing what's inside.
I struggle with the thought. While I’ve always dreamt of having a baby, and I’ve told him that, I never thought the crazy bastard would dare knock me up. “You don’t mean that.”
He smiles through my horror. “I do. And then we'll be a family for real. For that, I think I'd be willing to sit at number thre
e.”
“Three?”
“Baby. Then you. Then me. One. Two. Three.”
I smile through the hurt as a tear trickles into the corner of my eye. I’ve taken a man’s life. I have difficulty with the idea of bringing another little person into this screwy world. I lean backwards, so my head rests on Zayne’s chest while he spoons me. I close my eyes. I don't deserve to bring another person into this world after taking someone so cruelly from it.
Zayne instantly reads into my disparaging thoughts. “You’re worth it.”
It is true, I refuse to fully love Zayne the way I know I can, but a baby? Maybe he’s right. That could be just the thing to make me feel whole again.
He will be the man to make me whole again.
18: Win, Lose, or Draw
Nine months later.
Zayne is standing behind me, rubbing my belly, the way he does every morning before he heads off to work. “How's my baby doing?”
“He's okay,” I answer softly, convinced that we’ve been blessed with a healthy baby boy growing inside of me.
Smiling lips press against my neck. “I meant you, Clare. How are you feeling?”
“Good.” Surprisingly. The first six months of pregnancy had been a nerve-wracking nightmare, but with each passing week things are better.
Now counting down the days left in my third trimester, I am in love. I’m in love with my child, in love with the gift that Zayne is giving me, and in love with the idea that I could actually give life and live a normal one myself, without the burden of my ex-lover dragging me under.
Life—as it is—is good.
I try to push away the self-conscious thoughts that plague me more and more the closer my due date gets, but nothing I try works. I feel huge, even though I’ve only gained about twenty pounds. I feel ugly, even though I don’t have a double chin—yet! Zayne says he wants me, but ever since the baby started kicking, he acts like the idea of sex with me is taboo and disgusting. He says he still loves me just as much, but I need him to show me.
I steal his attention from the window. I see the way he notices that young blonde who jogs around the block repeatedly every morning before work, and I don’t like it. I need him to look at me like that again. The silky strap of my loose nightie falls off my shoulder and exposes my swollen breast. He notices instantly and comes to me, his hand caressing the sensitive skin, his eyes meeting mine to make sure he’s reading the situation right.
“Are you sure? You know what they say about making love this close to your due date.”
“For one, I don’t believe it, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a little sexual attention.” I push the other thin strap off my shoulder, but my gown doesn’t fall from my belly; it only rests there, framing my naked bust.
Zayne takes the hint and puts his mouth on me, sucking gently on a very erect nipple. It feels amazing, disguising the throbbing sensation in my chest. He gets carried away, and gives my breasts his thorough attention, just like I’ve been craving. Then he trails slow, wet kisses up my body, and he doesn’t stop until he reaches my mouth.
“You’re bad,” he says, knowing I’ve conned him into getting turned on.
I smile and the rest is history. Zayne takes my hand and walks me to our master bedroom where he carefully makes love to each and every inch of my overgrown body. In moments like this, I know my stupid thoughts about Zayne cheating on me while he’s out of town are ridiculous, even if this is the third weekend in a row he’s had to leave me. I’m sure I’m just pulling these ideas out of thin air.
When he’s finished with me, he caresses my stomach, gives it a kiss, and whispers a little secret to our baby.
I roll out of the bed. “Can you believe I'm only three days away from my due date?” I struggle to pull on my once loose-fitting clothes. They’re now skin tight. I huff and even my baby boy recognizes how distraught I am. I take a deep breath and massage the cramp jabbing awkwardly at my side.
Zayne comes up behind me and replaces my hand with his, massaging the large lump that has to be Zayne Junior’s butt jutting out. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?”
“It’s easier to believe that when you’re here.”
He wraps his arms around me. “I’ll video call to see you and your baby bump as soon as my flight lands.”
I pull away, feeling like an overinflated balloon. “I wish you could stay home.”
“But you know I have to go.”
“I know. It’s just that baby Zayne is going to miss you so much and maybe I will too.”
He pulls me into a snug embrace. “What can I do to make you miss me less?” he asks, as if he didn’t just do a damn good job pleasing me in our marital bed.
I think on it for a second. “Before you go, will you come for a short walk with me?” I know I should let him go—he really has to get going—but after nine long months, I’d like to spend these last few minutes holding his hand.
Although my feet are swollen, I look forward to getting out of the house. It’s the least Zayne can do before he heads out for the weekend.
“Are you sure you should be hobbling around right now? Zayne Junior might fall out.”
I slap at him and pucker my lips. Even with all these worries weighing on my mind, Zayne manages to make me smile.
“It's okay to take a day off,” he insists.
“Zayne!” I plead. “The doctor said it's completely safe and healthy, as long as I'm not in any pain.” I lift my hands and smile. “And I'm not.”
He stares at me in disbelief and then pulls me into another hug. “Oh, Clare. I love you, babe.”
“I know,” I say softly, sinking into his arms.
He releases me long enough to pull out his runners. “How about that walk?”
My smile bursts from my mouth as I murmur to my belly. “Daddy's coming for a walk with us before noon. Take a picture, baby. This is a once in a lifetime kind of miracle.”
“Whatever, Clare. I go for walks before noon.”
“Oh, really? Name one time.”
He thinks about it for longer than necessary. “Fine. Maybe I don't. But we walk.”
My palms skim over his chest in a soothing manner. “I was only teasing you. I’m very happy that you're coming with us today. Thank you.”
He leans down and kisses me thoroughly. “You're welcome but we'd better get out of here if I'm going to beat the heavy morning traffic.”
I tremble when we first step outside. It can’t be more than a minute past eight. The dew is still moist on the grass, and there’s dampness in the air that causes Zayne to wrap his arm around my shoulder and huddle me against his side. I snuggle close, because I have a feeling this will be the last time he and I will be alone before the baby comes.
“I promise the second I get back, I’ll rub this belly one last time and we can welcome our baby into this world together.”
Zayne kisses my temple and holds me close. Even on this cloudy morning, I can feel his smile showering over me. I cherish the short moments like this one. Our quaint neighborhood in Forest Hills is peaceful at this time of day, and ever since Zayne chose me over his big-shot job, I like to forget how times are tough. With his ex-wife Casey raping him for every dollar he makes, it leaves little for us to survive on. Our mortgage eats up the bulk of our income, and I’m starting to wonder whether we’ll ever be able to afford the new house we just moved into with the payments we’re managing on our student loans.
Brushing all that aside, we walk down the quiet sidewalk, looking like the pregnant newlyweds that we are, hand in hand, lost in our own little world. I know I look overly round, and this pregnancy thing has done amazing things for my skin, but I don’t feel particularly great today. I’ve been worrying a lot about Zayne’s faithfulness lately.
I force myself to smile and keep up with his snail’s pace, pushing through the pain of the recurring cramp in my side thanks to my overactive imagination. Exercise is important, I remind myself. If I want to birth a
healthy baby boy, I need to keep up on my daily routine. I know Zayne hates my morning walks but he puts up with me. I tell him it’s for the benefit of the baby and my sanity, and he won’t ever deny me that.
We turn down a busier two-lane street, and I twirl out of his arm like his dance partner, still hanging on to his hand with my arm fully extended, the sound of traffic whooshing by me.
“Are you sure you have to go?” I ask, even though I know how it disappoints him when I make him feel guilty for supporting the family.
“I’m one of the newest employees and I don’t have the luxury of turning this presentation down, Clare. We really need the money. You know I have to go.”
This trip will take him back to San Francisco. How convenient for him. I know his brother lives there but I have a hard time believing that it’s him he goes out with at night. I’m growing more furious by the second, but he’s looking as handsome and happy as ever. If it was only about the job, I wouldn’t be so angry inside. It’s all the other crap he’s not telling me about that pisses me off. He’s probably thinking about all that adult fun right now. Why else would he be smiling when he’s about to leave his pregnant wife for the weekend?
The block is alive with foot traffic, mostly dog-walkers and retired couples. Then there’s that dumb blonde woman Zayne’s always staring at. I pull my hand away from him, just barely breaking free because he doesn’t want to release my fingers. I don’t realize it’s because I’m stumbling into the street without double checking for traffic.
The blonde woman darts into the street behind me. A speeding car swerves and just misses her, plowing into the curb lane, heading right in my direction. I’m so busy scowling at Zayne for watching the woman that I don’t even know what’s going on behind me until I hear the screeching tires.
“Clare, no!” Zayne shouts, witnessing everything.
First, our eyes connect. Then I watch his face contort into an ugly knot. It all happens so fast that there’s no time for me to react. Zayne grabs for my wrist and pulls me past him with a violent tug. Time seems to move in slow motion as I twist around him. The speeding car clips my hip and sends me sailing onto the pavement. My hands skid across the ground, shredding the skin from my palms as the car doing all the damage pops the curb and rams into a security fence.
Playing House: A Black Widow Novel (Dark Secrets Duet Book 1) Page 10
