by K. Webster
I swallow thickly. “Thank you, baby.”
She works the buttons on my shirt and pushes it off me. I go to help her with my pants, but she swats my hand away and insists on doing it herself.
Finally, when I’m standing there naked before her, my dick bobbing happily, she points at the tub. “Get in and eat your supper,” she instructs.
I smirk at her bossiness but climb into the hot tub. As I sink into the water, I groan in appreciation. After a long day back at the office, this is exactly what I need.
“Why don’t you join me?” I ask as I steal a bite of the pizza.
She smiles. “After you eat your supper. Until then, I’ll be the entertainment.”
I watch her exit the bathroom and return with a laptop. Lo and behold, Princess fucking Pussy is already playing. I burst with laughter and nearly choke on my pizza.
“You’re too much, Care Bear.”
Her giggling echoes off the tile. She attempts to become serious as she acts along with the movie, adding her own dialogue here and there, and nailing the “aw yeah” duck face impressions. My wife is a fucking star.
After a ton of laughter, I finish the pizza and swallow down the bottle of beer. Then I wave her over to me. “Come here, beautiful. I want to kiss you.”
She bends over and puckers her lips when she gets near, giving me a sexy-ass view of her cleavage, which is all but spilling out. I have to have her. Now. With one quick movement, I grip her hips and haul her into the water with me.
“You ass!” she shrieks but straddles my hips to get comfortable.
Princess Pussy heels pop up and float in the water behind her. I tug her to me and smash my lips to hers. Her moans as she grinds herself against me are almost my undoing. My cock is pressed against the tiny shred of panties she’s wearing, and I want them gone. As we kiss, I reach between us and tear the poorly made thong from her body so that she’ll be completely open for me.
“I was going to give you a blow job,” she whines as I push her onto my dick.
I find her lips and kiss her as she rides me. “You’re the best fucking wife. Right now, I need this. Blow jobs can wait.”
My hand slips up her soaked corset, and I squeeze her tit through it. Princess Pussy may be playing in the background, but we’re making the best damn porno I’ve ever seen. Caroline is fuck hot and real—real curves, real tits, and the realest fucking lips.
I’m one lucky son of a bitch.
Every time my eyelids get heavy and shut, I jerk myself awake, which causes Care to giggle.
“Go to sleep, Bentley,” she murmurs against my chest.
We’ve long since retired to bed, but I’m not done spending time with her. Tomorrow, I’ll have to get up bright and early only to work the entire day away from her. I’m not looking forward to it.
I stroke her bare skin on her ribs and kiss her hair. “I’m not tired.”
She sighs as she draws circles on my pectoral muscle with her finger. “I missed you today,” she says.
I’ve toyed around with telling her about how I put my notice in, but I want to surprise her. I want to proclaim to her that, after two weeks, we’ll get to spend all the time in the world with one another. So I don’t tell her. Instead, I wonder how I’ll make it nine more work days. It seems fucking impossible.
“I missed you too.”
Keeping surprises has always been a weak area for me, but this time, I vow to wait. I’ve already checked on our funds and made sure we can live off the interest of what I have invested for the rest of our lives—comfortably, at that. Care and I can walk around naked all day and not do a damn thing if we so shall please. And we can easily live in this expensive loft for another six months until my other surprise is carried out.
When my lawyer called this afternoon to give me the news, I was fucking thrilled. I wanted to call Caroline and blab all of it to her. In the end, though, I bit my tongue. It will be worth seeing her face six months from now when I show it to her.
“How was your day? Aside from planning the sexiest welcome-home party of course.”
“I was lonesome, but then I remembered my camera. It took a while, but I learned a few things about it,” she tells me.
I squeeze her to me. “I think we both managed to survive the first day.”
“And every day after will get easier, Bentley. As long as we have each other—as long as we fight to stay together—everything is going to be just fine.”
With her confidence in our marriage, I relax and fall fast asleep.
Three weeks. Not two.
I stare at my computer screen and wonder if they’ll talk me into yet another week. I’m not sure why this is even an option. But the partners placed guilt on me already once by saying that they needed more time before they lost me. My sanity is a victim of their needy ways, because currently, I’m about to bash my fucking head against the desk.
Surely I can stick it out for a few more hours.
“Harrison,” a voice booms from my doorway.
I lift my head to see one of the partners, Phil, striding into my office. “Hey, man.”
He sits down in front of me and grins. “We hired someone and he’ll start Monday. Today can be your last day if you’re okay with that.”
I sit up so fast that I nearly give myself whiplash. “You’re shitting me. Hell yeah, I’m cool with that. I’m fucking ecstatic!”
Chuckling, he shakes his head at me. “You act like we imprisoned you.”
“I’d call the last week prison,” I joke.
He flips me a discreet bird. “What are you and Caroline planning on doing now that you’ll be a free man?”
I sigh. “Well, first off, I have to tell her I quit my job. I kind of wanted to surprise her.”
His eyes widen, and he smirks. “Will she be okay with you quitting? If not, you know you’re always welcome here.”
Even though I’m ready to start the next step in my life, I’m a little sad to leave all of the friends I’ve made at the firm. They’re good people and have always treated me right.
“Thanks, Phil. That means a lot. But the wilderness calls,” I tease.
He crosses his arms across his chest and regards me seriously. “The accident really changed you. You’re different.”
Nodding, I begin stacking papers up in a neat pile to leave for whomever the fuck will get this office next. “I’d been blinded and I finally opened my eyes. Losing Caroline would have been the death of me. It took something borderline catastrophic to make her and me realize that we don’t want a life without the other. We want babies and a simple life. I’m ready to give that to her. She deserves it.”
His eyes narrow at me as he mulls my response over. “Nadine and I have four kids and nine grandkids. I’ve accomplished a lot in my life. But my family is what I’m most proud of. I understand, son. You’re doing the right thing.”
I swallow down the emotion in my throat. “It was a rocky-as-shit journey, but Care and I, we’re on the road back to us.”
He reaches across the desk and we shake hands. “Good luck, Harrison,” he grins. “Oh, and you’re not getting off that easy. The gang has something planned for you in the breakroom.”
As we both stand to leave, I can’t help but throw a nostalgic glance over my shoulder at my office. My job might be the reason Care and I almost threw in the towel, but this place is what is making it possible for us to follow our dreams.
And that’ll happen just as soon as this party is over . . .
MY HANDS ARE trembling as I ride the elevator up to the forty-second floor. This afternoon, I have a surprise for Bentley. I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy, but it still doesn’t calm my nerves. With this announcement comes change—change I’m not sure he’s ready for.
I slip my hand into my purse and pull out the card with the picture inside. Now that I’ve learned to use my camera, I’ve taken photos of anything and everything. This particular picture took some time and effort to create. But I’m proud of
not only the picture but what it represents. Once I got it developed and stuffed into the envelope, I couldn’t wait any longer to tell Bentley.
Now, I feel like I’m going to throw up for the second time today.
When I get a whiff of buttercream frosting, which only serves to nauseate me more, my eyes skim over to the other person in the elevator with me. She’s been too busy texting with one hand the whole time to notice me. In her other hand is a cake. When I see my husband’s name scrawled under “congratulations,” I scrunch my nose up in confusion.
Congratulations for what? They couldn’t possibly know.
“Is that cake for Bentley Harrison?” I blurt out.
The slender woman with long, dark hair flicks her gaze over to me and smiles brightly. “Yes. Wait, you’re his wife, Caroline. Are you here for his party?” She giggles when she sees the card in my hand. “Of course you are. I’m thrilled for you both.”
I blink several times. “Um, thank you,” I mutter. “But how did you know?”
She giggles again, and I decide that her voice annoys me. “Everyone knows.”
Everyone except me, apparently. Unless they’re talking about my surprise to him. And in that case, how in the hell do they know? I only found out for sure this morning.
A ping alerts us that we’ve arrived to the floor, and I sigh in relief. She heads for the breakroom, while I hurry to his office so that I can get to the bottom of this. When I get there, it’s empty.
I step back outside the office and see that the entire floor seems to have vacated their desks. Evidently, the party starts now. The party for my husband that I clearly wasn’t invited to. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes as I walk toward the noisy breakroom.
The laughter only serves to sicken me.
Why would they throw a party for him?
Why wouldn’t he tell me?
When I peek my head in the doorway, I see that everyone is here. The partners. James. And of course, the star of the show, Bentley.
He raises a champagne flute after someone finishes a toast and then drinks it down. All I can do is stare. My husband seems so happy, his face shining with an expression I love. I want to know what is making him feel this way. Did he get a promotion?
When his eyes skitter over and land on mine, his smile drops.
“You must be so happy,” one of the ladies near the door says to me. “My husband has been trying to retire for years. We’ll never be able to afford it though. You two still have your lives ahead of you. How wonderful.”
Retire?
From the corner of my eye, I can see Bentley hurrying my way.
“The partners wanted to keep him another week, but a three-week notice instead of two was still very generous of Mr. Harrison. He’s a good man, that husband of yours,” she says with a smile.
Three weeks?
“Care!” he calls out to me over the throng of people.
The room spins, and I know for a fact that I’m going to be sick. I hightail it out of there toward the bathrooms. The vomit is making its way up my throat, and I barely push through the handicapped stall in the women’s restroom and drop to my knees in front of the toilet before it bursts from me. Thankfully, I’m wearing my hair in a messy bun, so none of it gets caught up in it.
As I puke, I hear the door open, and then the door to my stall flies open.
“Caroline, what’s wrong?”
He kneels beside me and strokes my back as I get sick. Soon, my heaving subsides and I give in to crying.
“Baby, you’re scaring me.”
“Three weeks?” I choke out. “You knew you were quitting for three weeks?”
His body tenses beside me. “I wanted to surprise you,” he says softly.
I sob some more. “Why would you quit? Without talking to me first? Why would you hide this from me?”
He groans. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I just wanted to come home and tell you we were free—that we could be together all the time. Care, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. You hate my job. Are you not happy?”
“I don’t know,” I blurt out.
“Fucking bullshit,” he growls under his breath and stands. “Everything I do is for you.” With that, he storms out of the stall.
My crying only intensifies and I fall into hysterics. He’s left me. I knew that it was only a matter of time before our perfect life would come crashing down on us. So why am I being so difficult about this? If I can stop crying, I’ll go after him. Fight for him.
I jump when, minutes later, the door flies back open and he kneels down beside me again. When I look at him, he isn’t angry. In fact, he seems worried.
“I grabbed a Sprite from the breakroom and a wet towel,” he murmurs.
My lip quivers as he sets the can down and dabs at my lips with the cloth. Once I’m clean, he pops the top on the soda and hands it to me.
“Thank you.” I raise the can with a shaky hand and gingerly sip on it.
My sigh of relief echoes in the bathroom when he leans forward and kisses me.
“I love you, Care Bear. The surprise I had for you was meant to make you happy, not hurt you. I swear on my life that I only had good intentions.”
I smile sadly at him. “I know. I just thought we were partners, you know? And you didn’t even invite me to your party,” I laugh bitterly.
He runs a hand over my messy hair and kisses my forehead again. “I knew about the party literally seconds before it happened. I’m sorry, baby.”
“How will we afford to live? We’re so young—too young for you to retire and keep up this lavish lifestyle. Plus, I’m afraid our expenses are about to go up,” I admit.
When he flashes me a smug grin, I begin to relax. Bentley always figures it out. Always. I’m not even sure why I’m panicking over this.
“I’m an investment banker, baby, and really damn good at it, which means we have more than enough money to last us.”
I try to rise to my feet, and he clutches my elbow to help me. My Bentley, always taking care of me. He collects my purse while I rinse my mouth and wash my hands at the sink.
“I have a card for you,” I tell him with a shaky voice. “But can you open it in your office?”
His eyes narrow at me because he can tell something is off, but I try to smile to calm his nerves. Finally, he nods and threads his fingers with mine, guiding me to his office.
Once we’re inside with the door shut, we sit side by side in the chairs on the other side of his desk. With quivering hands, I pull the card out of my purse and hand it to him.
Nausea washes over me again, so I quickly sip the cold soda, which helps keep it at bay. He opens it so slowly that I’m tempted to rip it right from his hands and do it for him. It’s like a bandage—I just want to tear it off and have the hard part be over.
A smile quirks up one side of his lips as he looks at the front of the card. Rocky Balboa is on the cover and it says, I’ll fight for you, Valentine.
His eyes lift to mine and he chuckles. “A little early for Valentine’s Day, Care Bear.”
“Just open the card,” I huff out.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. His smile is ever present as he opens the card. But when he sees what’s inside, the smile falls from his face.
Terror seizes me. I thought he’d be happy. Maybe he didn’t expect it so soon, and with quitting his job, maybe he’s worried.
“Care . . .” he trails off and finally looks over at me.
Tears. His tears.
“Are you happy?” I ask in a wobbly voice.
“Happy?” he chokes out. “No. I’m not happy. I’m fucking delighted!”
I allow my own feelings about our pregnancy to show on my face. He blurs in front of me as my tears ultimately give way and spill out.
“Did you pee on the stick nine times?” he laughs as he leans in to briefly kiss me.
“Actually, I got the idea to spell out the word ‘DAD’ with the pregnancy test sticks from Pinterest.
Someone had done it and it was too cute. The lady on the blog instructed that you don’t need to pee on it nine times but to pee in the cup instead. After I dipped them all in and got the positive results on all of them, I arranged them and took the picture.”
He narrows his eyes. “That’s kind of gross,” he chuckles.
I swat at him. “Shut up. It was sweet and you know it.”
His eyes fall to the picture and he nods. “Dad.”
Leaning back, I rest in the chair. Finally, I feel as if everything will be okay. But when he suddenly stands with a very resolved and determined glint in his eyes, I begin to fret again. He storms over to the other side of his desk and tosses his laptop and a few picture frames into the box that’s sitting there.
“What are you doing? Do you need help?” I question.
He hoists the box on his hip under one arm and comes around to where I am sitting with his arm stretched out. “Let’s go. I have something to show you.”
I allow him to pull me up, and together, we leave his office. People tell him goodbye, but he politely waves them off as we approach the elevator. He’s practically bouncing on his toes with excitement.
“Where are we going?” I demand now that we’re on the road.
“We’re moving. Today,” he laughs but drives in the opposite direction of our house. Moving? Today? “What the hell, Bentley? How many huge life changes are we going to try to do all in the same day? What about my things? My camera?”
He slows down and frowns at me. “Oh. Well, shit. I just got so excited.” He does an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street and heads back toward home. His lips are in a firm line, and he appears dejected.
“I can be ready to go by morning,” I offer and lean over to kiss him on the cheek.
His relieved sigh is loud, and he flashes me a grin. “Compromise. I can handle that. Pack light, because where we’re going, there isn’t much room.”
The old me might have worried over his words, fearing about where we would soon be living. This newer, better, pregnant version of me is thrilled to see where life takes us.
“Where are we moving to?”
