There was a new tension in the air between Sophie and me, and I wasn’t sure where it came from. Could it be that she didn’t like my helpful side? Lots of women were drawn to “bad boys.” Could it be that once a man came around and treated them like they ought to be treated they didn’t want them anymore?
Dr. Beckett had once said that humans tended to want what they don’t have. Single people wanted to be married. Married people wanted to be single. She explained that was human nature—the whole grass is greener thing. Could it be that was how Sophie felt about me? She wanted me until I wanted to commit to her, and now that she had me she didn’t want me anymore?
Fuck. That was almost the opposite of how it had been for me. When I had Sophie I’d taken it for granted that I’d always have her. I misused her trust and I lost her.
The whole thing was so fucking complicated. I just wanted to love her and our baby—give them a good home, take care of them. But things just weren’t looking good for that possibility.
That night we watched a movie and Sophie fell asleep early so I went to my room and caught up on some emails. The next day I puttered around—at loose ends. Finally, I went to Sophie’s room and we watched another movie. When it was over, I asked her what was the matter.
“You have to stop all this controlling, crazy behavior!”
“What behavior are you referring to?” I asked, knowing full well it could be any number of things.
“Oh, I don’t know … kidnapping me, pretending to be some other man you were sharing me with, um—stalking me!”
“Stalking you?” I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Quentin. It’s ridiculous. If you weren’t stalking me how in the world would you have known I was missing? Or where to find me when I disappeared?”
“If I hadn’t been, you might still be in that ravine. Or dead.”
“So I should thank you, right? For stalking me. For being a crazy man.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It sounded like that’s what you meant. Quentin, you are not a puppet master who can control everyone and everything!”
“I realize that, Sophie, but don’t you know why I’m like this?”
“No idea.” She threw up her hands.
“My therapist says it’s because people around me keep dying. Or close to it. I think it’s because I like to hurt people, and I’m being punished for it.”
“That doesn’t sound right. What do you mean you like to hurt people?”
“The way I like to spank you, torture you …”
“But I agree to that. I consent.”
“Doesn’t matter. Its fucked up to want to do that. And something bad happens to everyone I care about.”
“I feel like you’re using this situation to manipulate me,” she said, arms crossed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’ve forced your way in here, behaved like the perfect son-in-law.” She lowered her voice and hissed, “If my mother knew what you’ve done to me, there is no way she would be treating you this way and you know it!”
Her words stung like a slap. After all I’d done to try to get past that …
It finally hit me.
Sophie would never get past it. No matter what I did. No matter how long I tried. Sophie would never forgive me for deceiving her.
With leaden feet, I walked out of the room.
In the guest room, I packed my things and went to tell her mother goodbye. “Please give Mr. Davenport my best.”
“Quentin, I hate for you to leave so soon! You’ve been such a hero to our Sophie. Must you go so soon?”
A bitter laugh rang in my head. If Bunny Davenport only knew … Sophie was right about that. If the woman knew half of the things I’d done to her daughter she’d throw me out faster than I could say “safeword.”
“I’m sorry, Bunny. It’s a work thing. I’ve been putting it off while we’ve been in Hawaii, and they just won’t let me put it off any longer.”
“I can’t believe that you and Sophie were worried about us knowing your little secret. Her father and I—we’re not that old-fashioned. We’re trying to get with the times. I hope Sophie told you how understanding we’ve been. At least you’re planning to get married. That’s the important part.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Sophie was asleep when I walked past her room,” I lied. “I kissed her, but she didn’t wake up. Will you be a dear and please tell her I love her and I’m sorry I didn’t wake her to say goodbye. I think our girl needs her rest, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. Such a thoughtful future son-in-law I have,” Bunny beamed, and I kissed her hand before walking out the front door, never expecting to see the woman again.
28
Quentin
“… so I rescued Sophie, took her to the hospital, cared for her, and flew with her to Fort Worth where I helped get her situated at home so her parents could take care of her.” I finished recounting the story for Dr. Beckett, conveniently omitting the fact that for two days before the accident, I basically kidnapped Sophie and held her against her will. My transparency did have its limits.
“So, she had a bad fall, but other than that, she’s okay? She survived.”
I shrugged. “I could argue that breaking your ankle, spending the night out in the open, being frightened that you’d lose your baby and possibly your life is actually a terrible thing to have happen to you.”
Dr. Beckett shrugged. “True, but as of today, she’s alive and well. And the baby? Is the baby all right?”
I nodded.
“I say this to make a point. The idea that things happen in the world because of something we do is called magical thinking. Like the idea that if we wear a shirt in our team’s colors it will help them win, or if we determine that every time we watch the game, our team loses so we decide not to watch in the hope that will cause our team to win.”
“So?”
“From what you’ve told me, you have engaged in a form of magical thinking ever since your son died. You believe that bad things happen to people around you, particularly people who love you.”
I shrugged.
“So I think the outcome of this recent episode with Sophie has made you have to face up to that notion, and it has given you evidence that contradicts that belief.”
“I see what you’re saying. Sophie was in an accident, one that normally I would think should have caused her death based on my past experiences.”
“Right. She didn’t die. In fact, you saved her.”
“I did, didn’t I?” A light was dawning in my brain.
“You did.”
I pondered this for a moment. “So you’re saying that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?”
Dr. Beckett smiled. “Yes, and sometimes cancer is just what happens. And sometimes people attempt suicide.”
My heart clenched, and I felt like a whole new world of possibilities was opening up for me.
“But Sam … that was my fault.”
“No, Quentin. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
I sat quietly in my chair, tears welling up in my eyes. “But if it was an accident, then it can happen again. To anybody I love.”
“That’s right.”
“And that’s too awful to imagine.”
“It is. So you’ve devised a system of thinking about it that involves you punishing yourself for your son’s death because it’s easier than dealing with the reality that life is unpredictable, and it can be unthinkably cruel sometimes.”
“Yes, it can,” I said, thinking that had to be the understatement of the year.
“But I think you’re ready to move forward. Don’t you?”
I nodded.
“So are you willing to give up your magical thinking?”
I sniffed and straightened in my seat. “I’m not sure I’d call it magical thinking.” I wasn’t ready to give her a pat on the back for analyzing me
to death, even though that was essentially what I paid her to do.
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
I continued, “The main thing I realize now is that the only person I can control is myself. I can’t control Sophie, her decisions, or what happens to her.”
“This is a big breakthrough for you.”
“Yeah. I wish I could force her to accept my proposal, but it has to be her decision.” Holding her against her will, at least initially, had been exhilarating on one hand, but on the other hand it was no way to build a life with someone.
The only thing that made it bearable for me to deal with Sophie’s rejection was the realization that the only way we could truly be happy together, the only way we could start a family together, was if she came to me willingly of her own accord. It sucked, but it was the truth.
“I’m seeing a lot of growth in you, Quentin.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t help but nod with self-satisfaction. Throughout this experience I had grown as a person. Surely I could turn that into a positive. A stepping stone toward being the kind of man my son could one day look up to at the very least.
“So where do things stand with you and Sophie today?” Dr. Beckett asked.
“I’m actually not all that optimistic. Everything she has said makes me believe that she will never be able to forgive me for deceiving her. And really, I only have myself to blame, so the only thing I can do at this point is keep trying to show her that I can be trustworthy and to begin to accept that the only relationship I may have with her might center around co-parenting our child.”
“If you lose her as a romantic partner, there will be a grieving process that needs to go along with that,” she warned.
I nodded. “I think that is a process I’ve already started. Not that I’ve given up all hope, but if she doesn’t want to be my wife, at least I can be a father to our child.”
“Again, Quentin, I am proud of how far you have come. You seem to be willing to let go of the idea that you can control Sophie, and you seem willing to allow her to make the decisions that she needs to for herself. That is great progress.”
That was fine for Dr. Becket to be thrilled with my “progress.” It wasn’t her life. She wasn’t the one losing the love of her life, but I guess no pain, no gain.
The session came to an end and when it was time for Dr. Beckett to schedule my appointment for the following week, I stood, confidently stuffed my hands into my pockets, and told her, “I’ll let you know.”
29
Quentin
A few weeks later I was coming home from the studio when I got the surprise of my life.
I didn’t see her when first I drove up to the cabin.
I lived far enough outside of the city that I didn’t get unexpected visitors. People didn’t just drop in on me. So I was startled when a voice called to me from my porch, “Quentin!”
As I looked up, the sun shone in my eyes and I had to use my hand as a visor so I could squint up at the familiar voice. I thought I knew who it belonged to, but until I confirmed my suspicion with my own eyeballs, I tried to warn myself not to hope.
But it was too late. My adrenaline was already flowing, and I broke into a trot.
After a few strides, the house blocked the sun, allowing me to see the beautiful angel hobbling on crutches toward me.
She wore a maternity top, and she’d never looked more radiant. Her skin glowed and her belly had a roundness to it that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her.
“Sophie!” I took the steps two at a time, and when I got to the top I took her in my arms and hugged her close.
I would have picked her up and twirled her around, but I was too conscious of the baby between us.
My palms roamed over her body. I needed to reacquaint myself with every inch of her, catalog everything that was familiar and enter into my memory everything that was new—like her burgeoning belly and ever-swelling breasts.
“What are you doing here?” I stepped back to look at her.
“Do you mind if we sit down?” she asked, clutching her stomach.
“Here,” I said, settling a protective arm around her shoulders as I guided her to a love seat on the porch and helped her sit down. When she seemed comfortable, I sat down next to her.
“Did you just fly out here all by yourself?” It sounded stupid as the words came out of my mouth. She’d flown to Seattle numerous times in the past, and it hadn’t been that long since she’d flown to and from Hawaii. Being pregnant didn’t make her an invalid, but she was on crutches … All of it made me want to treat her like a delicate dandelion that could blow away into thousands of pieces if the wind blew the wrong way. I wanted to cover her and shelter her from the world, but I knew that wasn’t going to fly with her. Even though she was a good submissive, Sophie knew her mind better than most people, and she had an independent streak that had grown wider over the last few months.
A clingy woman would be a nightmare for me, so in that regard I was proud of the independence she’d shown recently. But the controlling side of me … that was the side that was still trying to get used to Sophie’s recent pluckiness.
“Of course. I even got myself a shuttle from the airport.”
Thank God she didn’t use that ride-sharing service. I’m sure it was fine for most people, but I’d seen that a recent serial killer had been a driver with them. I knew I was paranoid, but that wouldn’t have been my first choice for the woman carrying my child.
“Great. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I just had no idea, that’s all. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
She’d succeeded. I wasn’t sure when I’d see her again. In fact, I’d grown accustomed to the idea that I’d have to have Bunny alert me when she went into labor. My plan was to fly to Texas immediately to be there for the birth (whether Sophie allowed me into the delivery room or not), and insert myself into the child’s life as much as possible.
And even though I’d chosen not to enlist her parents in my quest to get Sophie back—if they happened to point out to their daughter what a stand-up guy the father of her baby was—well, I’d be grateful to them.
What had I learned?
The only behavior I can control is my own.
I had to keep repeating that to myself like a mantra. Hopefully, it would become who I was and I’d be a better person for it.
I squeezed Sophie tight, around the shoulders, not the middle. Now that she was so clearly pregnant, instinct told me to give her belly a wide berth.
But I also wanted to touch it, listen to it with one of those heart monitor things, feel it kick. I wanted to be all in. Which made me wonder about the purpose of Sophie’s visit. Surely she didn’t fly halfway across the country to dash my hopes and dreams.
“I’m so glad you’re here, pet. But—if you don’t mind my asking—what the hell are you doing here?”
Her big brown eyes stared up at me, and I was immediately reminded of how lost I could get gazing into those chocolaty pools.
She pressed a hand to my cheek, and I felt the blood drain from my face. My hands started to sweat. I had fucked Sophie over six ways to Sunday, and now she was here to break up with me permanently, to lay down the law telling me I could see our son every other holiday and one weekend a month or some shit like that.
The poor kid would never even get to know me. Every week he’d cry when he had to go off with “that man”—me. It would be terrible and awkward, and it would break my heart. Until after a few months I’d decide that it would probably be best for him to just live with his mom. A year or so later she would call me to tell me she was getting married. She hoped I could be happy for her, and her new husband wanted to adopt our son. Didn’t I agree that it would be better for him to have a real dad who could toss the baseball with him, read him stories before bed, and teach him how to drive? And wouldn’t it be nice if everyone in her new, happy little family that included m
y son—had the same last name?
So I’d agree to let her new husband become my son’s father. I’d let him adopt my boy, the one I’d never gotten to know because I’d fucked up and lied to his mother. Tried to control her. And before long, it would be like they never existed. My little family I’d created and blown apart as sure as if I’d detonated a bomb.
“Quentin!” Sophie was poking me in the ribs.
“Huh?”
“Did you hear what I was saying?”
I shook my head then focused on her. “I’m sorry. Can you say it again?”
She looked at me like I was nuts, but repeated herself. “I was saying that I’ve been considering your proposal.”
“And …”
The corners of her lips started to rise. “Do you still have that ring?” she asked shyly.
I thought my heart might beat right out of my chest. “Do not fuck with me, Sophie.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, I’ll go get it,” I said, and I practically ran inside to get the ring, which I kept in the top drawer of my bureau. Once I found it, I raced back to her.
When I threw back the screen door and stepped onto the porch, I was struck by the beauty of the love of my life. I hoped she’d agree to be my wife, but I knew right then that I would be happy to take on whatever role she chose for me in our future—be it friend, husband, lover, or simply the father to our child—I could be happy as long as I was allowed to orbit this woman. My brilliant, shining sun.
“Shall I try this again?” I stood before her and before she could answer, I dropped to one knee.
Fuck it. I’d promised myself that I’d grovel if I had to. It wasn’t like I hadn’t forced her on her knees before.
She covered her mouth with her hand and nodded enthusiastically. My heart soared.
By all accounts, it was my turn to fucking beg. And I wanted her to see I wasn’t too proud to show I had a soft underbelly, and I knew it was time for me to pay.
“Sophie Davenport, would you please do me the honor of becoming my bride?”
Claimed by Her Web Master (Web Master #3) Page 12
