by Alexis Angel
“Uh-uh, don’t even go there with that filthy mind, Christine. I mean, he’s my stepbrother!” She protests, but I notice a glint in her eyes as she thinks of him. Yeah, I also know how to read people - specially Kim.
“I was just sayin’,” I laugh again, taking a sip out of my cocktail as the conversation drifts off to what I’m planning for the wedding, and when I’m thinking of telling Anders about the pregnancy. We girls are nosy when it comes to sex, babies, and weddings… and more when these three come hand-in-hand. Just part of being the fairer sex, I think.
Can you imagine it? A few months ago I was just another graduate student, one of many eyeing the hot professor in class. And now here I am, a life growing inside of me, a wedding to plan, and a career at the United Nations! And, of course, the perfect man by my side. And, just between me and you, my sex life couldn’t be any more perfect as well… ‘Perfect’ meaning that I’m coming four to six times every time we make love. Which is everyday.
Jealous? Don’t be. Men like Anders are a rarity, yes, but if you keep your eyes open... Well, you might find someone like that for you. Just keep your hands off of Anders, okay?
He’s mine… and I might bite.
203
Daphne
Now we have three short steamy stories!
Ashely!
Christine!
And then me!!!
204
Ashley
I get home from Blush, my feet just aching from standing all day. Trying to get new reporters up to speed and up to the quality that I want...
It’s exhausting.
It doesn’t help that Apollo has been working long hours lately. We’re hardly ever at home at the same time anymore, and it’s slowly driving me insane. I’d thought that when we moved in together and then again when we got engaged, that this would mean, you know, us being in the same zip code more often than not.
Turns out, I was wrong. I was also wrong about all of the exotic vacations that I thought we’d go on. Who is rich enough to make God jealous, and yet spends all their time at a desk, working to make yet more money? Apollo Kane, that’s who.
When does the fun part of being rich start happening?
I shuffle into the kitchen and mix myself a dirty martini. I’m just going to sit down and relax and not think for ten minutes. Not go over magazine spreads in my head, not try to decide if the new hire is going to work out or if I should just fire her now…just relax.
But before I can really even get settled in for a nice breather, I hear the front door open. I turn on the couch, my body protesting at even that movement, to see Apollo at the front door.
“Hi, baby,” he says in a sing-song voice. He comes over and gives me a quick kiss on the forehead, excitement radiating off him. I just stare up at him, unable to really get my heart into…whatever it is that he’s excited about. Normally, seeing Apollo truly is the highlight of my day, and I’d do just about anything to sneak a glance at him throughout the day, but...
Stress
So
Much
Stress
Spirit-killing stress
He seems completely oblivious to me and my dour mood, and instead pulls a skinny, tall gift bag out from behind his back. “I’ve got a surprise for you!” he says in that same sing-song voice.
At that, I sit up straight, eyeballing the package. It could be a bottle of wine, based on the shape, or some other container of alcohol. Really, any kind of alcohol is welcome at this point. I set my martini down on the coffee table and hold out my hands. “What is it?” I ask eagerly as I pull the bag towards me.
“Well, today is our seven-month anniversary,” he says and I stop pulling the tissue paper away from the bag to stare at him. He grins and shrugs. “My phone told me. So, I thought it’d be fun to buy you something to commemorate our first real meeting.”
I look at him quizzically, totally confused now. I did not remember there being wine in his office that first time I went in to talk to him.
He waves his hands impatiently towards the bag and I take the hint and turn back to the mysterious seven-month anniversary present. Oh god, now I’m going to have to find a present for him. I have no idea what kind of present you get for the seventh month as a couple.
A gold watch?
Ugh, that seems too much like a retirement gift after working at a company for forty years.
And then I finally get it out.
It being a purple vase.
The ugliest purple vase I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even uglier than the one that I broke that day in his office, as hard as that is to believe. Purple and green, it looks like a vase version of Barney. It even has the same curves as Barney, and no, that isn’t a compliment.
I stare down at the vase for a little while, my mind blank. I just don’t even know what to say, or do.
“A vase?” I finally say, my voice cracking. All I want to do is laugh hysterically.
What the ever loving fuck am I supposed to do with a purple and green vase straight from hell? Put it on the entryway table so everyone who comes in here can admire it?!
“Apollo,” I say, my voice cracking again, but this time, I feel like my body is too. “I am exhausted and I don’t want to deal with this right now and just please stop and go away and I need you to just go away.”
“Go away?” he repeats, as if he’s never heard the words before in his life.
“Yes, go away!” I snap. “And take your fuck ugly vase with you!” I can’t believe the words, even as they’re coming out of my mouth but I’m just so damned stressed, I feel like a rubber band that’s been stretched out and held there for weeks on, and now...
Now I’m snapping. Breaking in two. I grab blindly for my martini glass and only just manage to get it to my mouth rather than spill it everywhere. I take a huge gulp, the alcohol burning down my throat, and I look up and he’s still fucking standing there.
“Just go!” I shout and then I’m sobbing and my martini glass is gone out of my hand and I feel Apollo’s arms slide underneath me and he carries me to the bedroom, laying me down on the bed and pulling the covers up over me like I’m a small child, and then he comes up and cuddles behind me, laying his arm over the curve of my waist, pulling me tight up against him.
“Shhhh…shhhh…” he whispers, stroking my hair away from my face as the endless fountain of tears that has become my eyes continues to pour out salty water. “It’s going to be okay.”
I don’t know how long I cry; it could’ve been days or weeks or just three minutes. I don’t know because I’m lost in this haze of stress and pain and sheer overwhelmedness that life has dumped on my head. But finally, I manage to get the tears to subside, or maybe there’s just no more left inside of me. But I can hear his crooning voice better now and I start to relax for probably the first time in weeks.
I have stopped bawling long enough to hear his next whispered statement. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here more often,” he says into the nape of my neck, his breath warm and soft against my skin. “I know I’ve been working a lot, and I haven’t been here for you like I should’ve been.”
Which just makes me feel guilty. I shouldn’t need to rely on Apollo to feel whole. I should be able to stand on my own two feet.
Even if those feet love being rubbed by him after a long day at work.
“Things have just been rough at work lately,” I whisper into the darkness of the room. I don’t want to face him as I admit to my shortcomings. I want him to think I’m perfect. Is that too much to ask? “I think I just took on too much and then…” Here it is. Time to admit that I really am needy, despite the fact that I lie to myself every day and tell myself I’m not. “I’ve missed you, Apollo. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it has. The nights when you haven’t been here…I don’t want to sleep here by myself. I can’t believe how in the last seven months, I’ve changed so much. I didn’t used to care who was there in the morning with me in my bed. I couldn’t even remember the name
of the guy I woke up with the morning I met you.”
“You woke up with a random guy that morning?” he asks, laughter in his voice.
“Yes.” I hate admitting this too. “To this day, I have no idea what his name is.”
Apollo just laughs and pulls me tighter. “I didn’t know I’d fallen in love with a girl who gets around like that,” he says in a teasing voice. “Do you remember my name?”
“Only to yell it when you’re in trouble,” I say primly. Revenge will be mine.
“Or scream it when I’m fucking you, long and hard,” he whispers in my ear.
Okay, that was true too. I grin despite myself.
He flips me around in his arms as easily as he’d flip a baby. Despite my best intentions and what I want to do, I find myself looking him in the eye. So damn embarrassing. Who has a mental breakdown over an ugly vase?
“I’ve been thinking,” Apollo whispers, his eyes dark and full of boundless love in the moonlight and streetlights streaming into the room. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m the Wolf of New York.”
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” I say teasingly. Revenge will be mine, dammit.
He mock glares at me for a moment and then says seriously, “I don’t need to work as much as I am. I’m doing it because it’s all I’ve ever done. It’s who I am. But I’m starting to realize that I’m a lot more than just the name on the signature line of a check. I’m your fiancé, and in five months, I’m going to be your husband.
“I could stop working tomorrow and we could live the rest of our lives as comfortable as clams on a beach.”
“Clams on a—” I can’t finish, I’m laughing so hard.
“It’s my analogy. Roll with it. Anyway, if me being gone is affecting you this much, I will meet with my lawyers and start working out the paperwork to sell off some of my business holdings. I don’t need more money. I need more Ashley.” He kisses me on the nose and then whispers, “I need more baby Ashleys.”
I freeze in his arms. We’d never discussed having a baby, not seriously anyway. It was something we’d do “later,” right about the time I actually got around to cleaning out my closet and donating unwanted clothes to Goodwill.
You know, someday.
“A baby?” I push out past the knot in my throat the size of a baseball. Maybe a basketball. It’s a damn big knot, okay?
“Yeah. You know, those little things that cry and poop their diapers and bang on pots? We can hire a live-in nanny to take some of the stress off us but dammit, we’re going to be hands-on parents. I will change diapers. Speaking of stress removal, you have a lot on your plate at work – have you thought about hiring an assistant? Not just another employee, but an assistant to be there to do whatever you need during the day.”
“I was looking at financial projections and I’m not sure the company can afford the cos—”
“Send me the bill,” Apollo says, and I can tell he means it. “She can be your personal assistant, there to do whatever you want. If you want to send her out to go lingerie shopping every day, then do that.”
“Lingerie shopping every day?” I can’t hold in my laugh. True to form, the one thing Apollo can think of that I’d need help with is buying lingerie. I’m surprised he didn’t bring up vibes and nipple clamps.
“Well, we need to get you prego, you know. I think lingerie could never hurt in that pursuit.”
“So practical,” I say dryly, flipping him over onto his back and straddling his chest, running my fingers up him and to his jaw. “What else could we do to help this process along?”
“I’m sure I could think of a few things,” he says modestly, running his hands up my thighs and to my waist. “But before we get too far into this project, Ash, you know that vase was a joke, right? I saw it and it reminded me of that day when I made you stand on one foot for fucking ever, just to be a dick. I didn’t expect you to actually like it.”
“Oh thank god!” I say in a rush. “Because it is quite possibly the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
It is only minutes later and I find myself repeating “Oh god,” but this time? It is in a much more breathy tone of voice.
After all, we need to get started on that baby project right away.
205
Christine
I stare down at the pregnancy test in my hands.
No, no, no, no…
The red plus sign stares up at me, burning into my retinas.
I’m
Pregnant
This is not even possible. I can’t be pregnant. I’m on birth control pills! I pop one every morning without fail.
Okay, well, except for the mornings that I didn’t pop one. Which, if we’re being honest and apparently, I have no choice in the matter, happens waaayyyy too often. Like, at least once or twice a week. It’s just hard to remember to do something every single morning. I have a life, you know!
Which brings me back to this little pee stick in my hands. I guess I have two lives now.
I sit down with a thunk on the toilet. What the hell is Anders going to say? We’ve talked about having kids. It was a thing we were going to do. At least he isn’t dead set against the idea, right? At least he isn’t going to be pissed, right?
Or maybe he will. He’s busy at the university and he’s writing a new book on the history of armor in Spain and...
Yeah, we’re busy. He’s busy. He might want a child like he wants a hole in his head.
I hear the front door open and a jingle of keys. “Honey, I’m home!” Anders calls out. It’s our little joke – we pretend that we’re this 1950s couple who greets each other like that every day and sometimes, I’ll even throw on a little apron and heels to complete the mirage.
Except, we’re about to have a child, which is a very 1950s thing to do. And I definitely don’t have an apron or high heels on.
Frantically, I look around the bathroom. I have to ditch this test, at least until I’ve had a chance to tell Anders. I can’t exactly have him figure it out by finding the test, right? Out of sheer desperation, I shove the pregnancy test into the leaves of the fern in the corner, rearrange the leaves so it isn’t too noticeable, I hope, and flush the toilet. A quick run of the water in the sink and I can pretend like I totally was not just peeing on a stick.
I come out of the bathroom, a smile firmly plastered on my face, to find Anders waiting for me in the hallway. “I have a surprise for you…” he says in a happy voice. His face is lit up with excitement and despite the knowledge that our world is about to be turned upside down, I can’t help but smile in response to the happiness on his face.
“Hi babe,” I say, and we kiss, but I can tell Anders isn’t into it. He wants to show me the surprise. “C’mon, c’mon,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hallway and up to the front door.
He stops me and says, “Close your eyes and I’ll guide you. Should I get a blindfold? I should probably tie a tie around your eyes so you don’t peek.”
“I won’t peek,” I promise with a laugh. I have no idea what is outside, but for the moment, his excitement is helping me ignore The News, and that’s a feeling I’m rather enjoying, thankyouverymuch.
I obediently close my eyes and he guides me out of the front door and down the steps carefully. We moved to a townhouse not too long ago, and it still amazes me how…immediate the outside world is. No more riding down an elevator or taking three flights of stairs just to get outside. I can feel the light evening breeze on my face, and cars honking as they pass by.
Just as I start to wonder if we’re ever going to get to wherever we’re supposed to be going, Anders stops me. “Okay, darlin’, open your eyes,” he says, and I just know that if he’d been able to arrange for fireworks to go off at this very moment, he would have.
I slowly open my eyes, and...
An Aston Martin? A Vanquish Zagato Coupe?! I stagger a little, the shock hitting me like a tidal wave. “Oh my god, Anders!!!!” I squeal, throwing my arms
around his neck. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!!”
I move a little closer, almost afraid to touch it, listening as he tells me all of the many amazing features. What I notice is the dark eggplant purple that it’s been painted – my favorite color. My favorite car maker. My dream car.
Then I see. And then I realize. And then I put it together.
Oh god.
It’s a coupe! I can’t drive a fucking coupe! I’m pregnant! Where is the baby going to go??
My tears of joy quickly turn into tears of panic. “Anderssssssss!!” I wail in panic. “I can’t drive thiisssssss!!!” I’m blubbering now, I really am, and all of the people who’d stopped by on the street to take pictures of the Aston, which really, who could blame them, are now staring at me.
Funsies.
Anders wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, tilting my head up to look him in the eye. “Now darlin’, you know I have enough money to buy this for you. I could buy a hundred for you if you wanted them. So don’t worry about it. It’s my gift to you.”
“It’s not the money,” I snuffle out. I look up and around at everyone passing by us. There is no way I’m blurting this news out on the street corner. “Let’s go inside for a minute.”
“You don’t want to go for a ride in the Aston?” he asks, shocked, and I think this is when it finally hits him that I wasn’t just crying happy tears. He’s suitably incredulous, as he should be. He knows how long I’ve drooled over Astons. He knows how much I wanted the Zagato in particular. He knows that my favorite color is eggplant. He knows all of that and that’s exactly why he surprised me with this perfect car.
He is so thoughtful.
I can only hope that his thoughtfulness extends to surprise children!
“I will. In a minute. Let’s just go inside and talk.”
