by Aly Martinez
As predicted, Eliza came rushing in, ready to care for the broken patient who masqueraded as her fiancé.
“Are you okay?” she asked then lifted my hand to inspect my bloodied knuckles.
I snatched it out of her grasp. “Don’t fucking baby me,” I growled. “I can’t handle it tonight. Just leave me alone.”
“Let’s just talk about it.”
“No. I don’t want an intervention tonight.” I snatched a towel off the ground and wrapped it around my knuckles. “I’m all maxed out on feeling like a bitch tonight without you making it worse.”
“Making it worse?” She tilted her head in confusion.
“Yes, worse. Just let me hang on to my own balls for the evening. I’ll be sure to return them first thing in the morning.”
“Wow. I didn’t know that helping you was the same as taking your balls. But you know what? Now that you mention it, maybe you’re right. I’ll be happy to stop trying to talk you down when you go into one of your full-blown tailspins. Would that stop you from being a broody asshole all the time?” She threw her hands out to the sides in frustration.
“A broody asshole, huh?”
“Yep. You’re always either pissed off, angry, or moping.” She flicked her fingers at me as she finished the sign.
“I just got knocked out because I can’t hear. I think I’ve got a right to feel that way.”
“So is that”—she pointed to the broken mirror—“about the fight? Or were you in here wallowing in bitterness and pity?”
I fucking hated that she knew me so well.
“I have the right to be bitter!” I roared.
“No. You. Don’t!” She punctuated every single silent syllable. “You may not have chosen to lose your hearing, but you chose to be deaf.”
“Excuse me?”
She narrowed her eyes, but it wasn’t in the playful way that usually instigated one of our staring matches. It was actually a little frightening. Her hands started moving rapidly, but her lips didn’t accompany it. My sign language was usually only good enough to give me context clues on what their lips were saying. Without them both, though, I was worthless.
“I have no idea what you’re trying to sign.”
“That’s because you refuse to learn!” she screamed as she signed. Her face turned red from the exertion, but it hit my ears. It was probably only a single note of her voice, but I heard it.
It was both painful and invigorating.
I sucked in a breath, and a real, honest-to-God smile formed on my mouth for the first time in months.
“And now you’re smiling. Fantastic.” She threw her hands up in the air and headed for the door.
“I miss your voice. I miss listening to you talk while I figure things out. Hell, I even miss Justin Timberlake right now, because that terrible CD was like the Eliza Reynolds soundtrack. I’d give anything to hear it right now.”
She turned around to face me with tears sparkling in her eyes. “Well, you know what? I just miss you.”
“Doodle, I . . .”
“This is temporary, Till. And it sucks really fucking bad, but this was a decision you made. I understand why you chose this life, and I support you completely. But I can’t live with this miserable man you’ve become for the next ten years. Give me back my man. I’ll even take the boy if that’s all you have to give. But damn it, I’m struggling too and I really need Till right now.” Her chin quivered and it broke me.
“I’ll do better.” I signed awkwardly, walking toward her. “I’ll do better, I swear.” I looped my arms around her waist and pulled her against my chest. I didn’t know if she spoke any more, but her words played in my head.
She needed me, and I had been too wrapped up in my own shit to realize she was struggling too. It was time to man the fuck up. I couldn’t do it for myself, but I damn sure could do it for Eliza.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eliza
“HOLY SHIT!” TILL JUMPED OFF the couch and was quickly followed by Flint and Quarry.
“Three . . . Four . . .” Flint counted, creeping closer to the TV.
“It’s over! It’s over!” Quarry screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth.
“You knocked out the heavyweight champion of the world!” Flint signed excitedly then shoved Till’s chest. He laughed wildly as he fell down onto the cushions.
“I can’t believe that fucker actually won.”
“Won? I can’t believe someone gave his ass a title shot,” Flint replied.
“Are you kidding me? He’s The Brick Wall! He’s never been knocked out! What choice did they have?” I said sarcastically.
Rick “The Brick Wall” Matthews had just won the title belt. He was the same Brick Wall Till had knocked on his ass during his first and only amateur fight. The same Brick Wall who had quickly been making his way up the ladder. His arrogance about having never been knocked out and his ability to back it up made him a fan favorite and enabled him to skip a few of the rungs Till was still navigating.
“I cannot believe he has the fucking title now,” Till signed as he spoke.
My stomach twisted as I waited for the fallout from watching someone so obviously lap him, but it never came.
Over the course of four months, my Till had come back. He had thrown himself into learning sign language, and even our sex life had returned to somewhat normal. Without words in the dark, Till was forced to read my body language—now that was something he excelled at. Things would never go back to the way they were before Till lost his hearing, but we were all busy forging a new path with the life we had been handed. Sometimes it sucked, but, as a family, we never focused on that for too long.
“Hey Flint, you still meeting up with Tiffany?” Till asked when I flipped off the television.
“Nah. Her curfew’s eleven. By the time I got over there, I’d just have to turn around and come home.”
“Quickie?” Till waggled his eyebrows teasingly.
“Till!” I smacked his chest.
“Don’t Till me. When we were his age, I’d already had you!” He laughed.
“Oh sweet Jesus.” I closed my eyes, shaking my head.
“He’s a man, Eliza.” Quarry interjected. “Men have quickies.”
“I’m gonna puke.” I stood up and walked to the kitchen, but Quarry continued.
“Sex is a natural part of life. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I curled my lip in disgust and pleaded with Till. “Make him stop talking about sex.”
“No way. I happen to agree with Q. Besides, you didn’t seem to be embarrassed in the shower this morning.”
My eyes bulged as I glared at him. Flint shook his head, but they all burst out laughing.
You’re so getting cut off for that, I signed behind the boys’ backs.
Liar, he replied with only his hands. Then he stood up from his seat on the couch and dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “Besides, who said I was talking about Flint having a quickie? I was talking to you.” He handed Flint a twenty, but his eyes were glued to mine. “I’m starving. Go grab some pizza, and go to that good place down by the gym. It’s worth the drive.”
“Oh shit! Are you two going to do it?” Quarry asked, looking back and forth between us until Flint slapped him on the back of the head.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed the truck keys off table, and they both headed out the door.
As soon as it clicked behind them, Till was on me. His mouth crushed into mine while he lifted me onto the kitchen counter. I wasn’t going to fight him. We so rarely got time alone that I didn’t even care that he’d just announced to the boys that we were planning to have sex. More embarrassing things had happened.
He moved his mouth to my neck as my hands slid under his shirt and up to his hard abs.
“So I was thinking. Since I won the fight last night, I’m off for a few days.” I wasn’t looking at him, and I wasn’t about to remove my hands to rep
ly, so I hummed my acknowledgement. He continued to kiss my neck. “I know things have been crazy over the last few months, but you’ve been wearing that engagement ring for entirely too long. What do you say we get married tomorrow?”
I jerked my head away to catch his eye. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I was thinking we could hit the courthouse, make it official, then do a big dinner with the boys and Slate and Erica, maybe some of the guys from the gym. Then we could get a hotel room for a couple of nights. Spend some time having way more than quickies.” He bit my bottom lip.
“Tomorrow?” I asked again in shock.
“Tomorrow.”
“But we don’t have rings,” I signed my petty excuse.
He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing my palm. “We’ll get some.”
“Umm . . .” I stalled, but I wasn’t quite sure why. There wasn’t really anything to think about. I’d been married to Till since the first moment I’d laid eyes on him. He hadn’t known it for a long time, but I always had. There was really only one answer. “Okay, but hotels are expensive. Let’s just see if the boys can spend a few nights at Slate’s.”
“Stop being a cheapo. We have more than enough in savings to cover something like this. We’re getting married. I want a couple of nights at a nice hotel where we can order up room service and a nice bottle of champagne. Maybe get a little tipsy and spend the rest of the night finding new ways to make each other come. You’ll need the extra day for recovery.”
“All right, baller. Then I want a new dress too.”
“Jesus Christ, Eliza! I’m not made of money.” He winked.
I melted.
“Baby, you can have anything you want if you just promise to marry me tomorrow. I’m not waiting anymore.”
Okay, I signed, unable to speak around the lump of emotion lodged in my throat. I’m so glad you’re back.
“Good. Now, get naked. I’m gonna fuck you one last time as my fiancée.”
I laughed as he peeled my shirt over my head. Then I quieted as he sucked my nipple into his mouth. A few minutes later, I moaned as he made good on his promise and fucked me on our kitchen counter.
Till
In an ill-fitting rented tux and a pair of black Converse shoes, I watched Eliza Reynolds become Eliza Page.
My little courthouse scenario had been quickly nixed when I’d called Slate to invite him to dinner the following day. Erica had gotten her claws in Eliza, and within three hours, they had planned for the entire wedding to take place in the gazebo of Erica’s garden. I had no idea how they’d pulled it together, but by six p.m. that evening, Eliza had walked down a makeshift aisle covered with rose petals. She was wearing a short, strapless, white dress that hugged her body in ways that spoke to my soul—or, at the very least, my cock. Her long hair cascaded over one shoulder, and a sheer veil floated in the breeze behind her.
I was a man. I didn’t cry—at least, not right then. No, I saved that exhibition of manliness for when I actually had to talk and choke over every other word for everyone to hear. I was reasonably sure I’d never live it down. I was also reasonably sure I didn’t give a single fuck.
I was marrying Eliza.
Erica had found a nice officiate who had been instructed to do the traditional wedding vows. But as I stood there looking into those dark-blue eyes that represented the rest of my life, I knew I needed to say something of my own. The problem was figuring out what to say at the moment when every single dream I’d ever had was suddenly realized.
“Excuse me for just a second. Can I say something?” I sucked in a shaky breath. “Eliza, I have absolutely no idea what I did to make you fall in love with me. But I can honestly say that, no matter what happens from this point on, it will always be my greatest accomplishment in this life. You’re incredible, and the fact that someone like you fell for a poor kid in dirty jeans who was too scared to walk through doors proves it.” My voice hitched, and I felt the moisture fall from my traitorous eyes. “When I told you that this”—I pointed to my ears—“was my future, you never batted an eye. And when reality became more than I could handle, you declared war on the inevitable for me. You always say that you love me, but you have given me so much more. And because of that, I will spend a lifetime fighting to give you the world.”
Tears fell from her eyes as she responded with only her hands. I already have it. Then she launched herself into my arms, kissing me way before she was supposed to.
Her hands shook as we exchanged wedding bands. As soon as she settled mine on my ring finger, she broke the unwritten wedding rules yet again by kissing me once more.
We were pronounced husband and wife, and Flint immediately stole my wife in a congratulatory bear hug. Quarry was more excited about dinner, so he gave me a high five and headed inside, where Erica had turned her dining room into an elegant wedding reception.
She and Slate had insisted on paying for dinner as our wedding gift, and I’d begrudgingly agreed when I’d found out she wanted to do something at home. I had been thinking chicken on the grill, but she’d had other ideas. By all accounts, she had gone overboard. It was less than ten people, but she had three private chefs and a cupcake tower that was roughly as tall as Eliza. When my jaw dropped after seeing what she had put together, Slate pulled me aside, slapped a beer in my hand, and told me to keep my mouth shut. He had never steered me wrong before, so I did just that.
At the end of the evening, Johnson drove Eliza and me to our hotel. It was a nice place, and I smiled proudly as Eliza oohed and ahhed over every thing. Then I made sure she oohed and ahhed under me when I took her against the wall for the first time as my wife.
Hours later, as we lay in bed naked, we removed our rings and read what the other had inscribed inside.
Hers: My wildest fantasy.
Mine: This is reality.
That day had been such a surreal combination of the two that I’m still not sure who was right.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eliza
FOR THREE FULL MONTHS AFTER the wedding, our lives became blissfully boring. I found an accounting job I hated, Flint graduated high school, Quarry was starting to draw national attention in the amateur boxing circuit, and Till . . . Well, he smiled more often than not. And with another win under his belt, his career was looking even more promising—each fight bringing in more money than the last. There was money in the bank, food on the table, and plans to move out of our crappy apartment as soon as we could find a house to rent. For the first time in as long as I could remember, life was easy.
That was until one Friday night when Quarry came down with the stomach flu. It quickly ravaged its way through Flint and Till. I served as a nurse to all three of them until I got sick too. As the guys got better, the roles were reversed. While I thought it was really sweet to watch them all coddle me, I showed no signs of improvement after a full week. It honestly appeared that I was getting worse. Then Till really began to worry and finally dragged me to the doctor.
“Are you freaking out?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
Till’s lips twisted in a one-sided smile. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re totally freaking out.”
He sat down on the edge of the examination table and squeezed my hand. “Doodle, are you freaking out?”
I sucked in a deep breath before the floodgates failed me. “Yes!” I cried as I dropped my head against his chest.
I felt his shoulders shake before I heard his quiet chuckle.
I sat up back up, sniffling. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because after everything we’ve been through, you decide to freak out about being pregnant? I’m happy and my little Miss Fix It is panicking. I’m sorry, but that’s funny.”
“You’re happy?” My voice squeaked at the end.
“Um . . . why wouldn’t I be happy? My wife is pregnant, and I’m finally at a point in my life where I think we could afford to start a family. I
t might not be ideal timing, but who cares? It’s not the wrong time either. We’ll make it work. It’s what we do.”
“You know, I’m really not fond of this sensible Till.”
He barked out a laugh. “You’re okay. I’m okay.” He reached down and placed his hand over my stomach. “We’re okay.” Kissing the top of my head, he said, “Nothing else matters.”
The familiar words soothed my nerves.
There was a knock on the door, and I nudged him off the table. The doctor and nurse came in pushing a large cart that nearly filled the crowded room. Till scooted back against the wall to allow them more room, and I felt the loss of his comfort even though he was only a few feet away.
“Okay, Mrs. Page. Since you don’t know how far along you are, we are going to do a quick ultrasound to see if we can get a fetal measurement and estimate a due date.”
I nodded with my eyes glued to Till. I was so nervous, and apparently, it read on my face. He quirked a smile and signed, I’ve heard pregnant women are horny all the time. This could really work in my favor.
My faced heated, and I prayed that no one in the room understood sign language. Till was entirely too far away, and as the doctor lubed up my stomach, I motioned for him to join me. With a smirk, he squeezed his muscular body around the doctor and took my hand, kissing my palm.
From our vantage point, we couldn’t see the screen, but the doctor squinted and leaned in closer with every twitch of his wrist.
“When did you say your last period was?” he asked.
“About two weeks ago.”
“And you were on birth control, right?” he asked, still staring at the screen.
“Yeah. The pill.”
“That was definitely just breakthrough bleeding, then. It appears that you’re around eight weeks.” He reached forward and turned a tiny knob.
A beautiful whooshing sound filled the room. A hand flew to my mouth as my eyes began to swim.
Till gripped my hand and nervously asked, “What?”
The heartbeat, I signed unable to say the words then made a flashing sign by opening and closing my fist to the rhythm of the sound.
