“No argument here.” He presses another quick kiss on my mouth and releases me. “I have a meeting with a client in twenty. I have to go.”
“Will you be gone the rest of the day?”
“Probably. This guy doesn’t know when to shut up.”
A bazillion emails. A pile of paperwork. Bastien out of the office will actually give me a chance to catch up without the distraction of him sitting ten feet away.
“I’ll call you when I know what time I’m picking you up.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Love you, baby girl.”
“Love you too.”
***
Bastien’s office is a mess. So unlike him. He typically borders on anal-retentive when it comes to the organization of his desk but he’s working in full-on catch-up mode to make up for the work days he missed.
He was out two additional days he wasn’t anticipating. One was spent moving my belongings across the hall. The second was because he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t say it but I know the travel and physical strain of moving my things took a toll on him.
He functions more proficiently when there’s less chaos, as do I. Let’s straighten this mess for him.
I’m sitting in Bastien’s chair organizing the scattered papers on his desk when Wendy prances through the door without stopping to knock. So typical for her to bypass Helen. I can’t wait for Bastien to have his meeting with this bitch to establish firmer boundaries of behavior.
I laugh inside as I recall our exchange of words on my first day back to work after our Hawaii vacation.
“Have a good trip?”
“It was lovely. Very romantic. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday surprise.”
“You think you’re so special, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Bash tells me pretty often that I am.”
“Well, let me tell you something, little girl. You aren’t the first one to drop a towel for Bastien Pascal.”
“Definitely not. But I am the one currently dropping it. And he takes great pleasure when I do.”
Boy, Wendy was pissed off after that conversation.
“Bash isn’t here. Is there something I can help you with?” Like my foot in your ass?
“What time did he say he would be back?”
“Said he’d be out the rest of the day with a client.”
Wendy sneers. “Priscilla George. I’d bet money he’s with her.”
“Maybe. He didn’t tell me the client’s name.” But he did say it was a guy who didn’t know when to shut up.
“I don’t imagine he would tell you anything about Priscilla George since they have history.”
I don’t know who this woman is, and Wendy is using her to bait me. But I won’t feed into it. “You’re welcome to leave a message for Bash with Helen.”
“Bash.” She laughs. “Calling him that proves just how unprofessional you are.”
I could mention how unprofessional it is to be disrespectful to your boss. Or try to sabotage your employer’s vacation while he’s away with his girlfriend. But I won’t. I’m not into lady drama.
“Like I said, you’re welcome to leave a message with Helen. She’s at her desk,” I point at the door, “which is out there.”
“Just so you know, he’s probably screwing Priscilla right now.”
Wendy doesn’t know Bastien is sick. She doesn’t know that he was my best friend long before he became my lover. And she doesn’t know that it’s impossible for her to ever shake my faith in what we have together.
I pick up the receiver and push the button to page Bastien’s secretary. “Hey, Helen. I think Wendy needs to leave a message for Mr. Pascal.” I arch a brow when I say his name. “Should I send her to your desk?”
“I’ll take care of her, Miss Middleton.” Helen lowers her voice. “I tried to tell her Mr. Pascal wasn’t in there—that it was only you—but she walked right past me like I didn’t say a word.”
“It’s okay, Helen. She’s on her way out.” I hang up and look at Wendy. “She’ll see you now.”
“I can’t wait until he gets rid of you. And trust me, he will. I guarantee you’ll be gone by spring.”
I look at the diamond band he placed on my finger the night of my birthday. The night we made love the first time. This ring says otherwise. But I won’t waste my breath trying to convince this woman of something she’ll never believe. Or understand. Because frankly, I couldn’t care less what she thinks about me and my relationship with Bastien.
“Would you please shut the door on your way out?”
“Shut the door your own damn self.” She turns and leaves, this time no prance in her step. Woo, that is one nasty wench. I’m not sure what Bastien ever saw in her.
I spend the better part of the day organizing Bastien’s office. The best part of the day? Finding three photos of us in the top drawer of his desk. Just another bit of reinforcement proving what we have.
Wendy is wrong. I won’t be gone by spring. But with any luck, maybe she will be.
More importantly, Bastien won’t be gone either. He’s going to be around for a long time. Healthy and happy. I’m going to make sure of that.
***
I’m stepping out of the shower to dry off when Bastien comes into the bathroom. “What does my girl want for breakfast?”
“Hmm . . . white chocolate Marscapone French toast with blackberries. And a side of bacon.”
My choice makes him laugh. “Well, at least you don’t ask for much.”
“When a fine chef asks what you want, would it be right to insult him by asking for Fruit Loops?”
“I would never feed my girl processed junk like that.” I love hearing him call me his girl. “French toast it is. But you might have to settle for blueberries instead of blackberries.”
“Blueberries sound better anyway.”
Bastien grasps my arm and lifts it. “Ah, baby. What’s wrong with your arm?”
I look down to see what he’s talking about.
“Your arm shouldn’t be getting redder and more swollen.” He touches the angry, red circular area. “It’s hot to the touch. Your doctor needs to examine this.”
I twist to get a better look in the mirror. “Crap.”
“Do you feel all right? Fever? Chills? Fatigue? Anything weird going on?”
“My arm is tender, but otherwise, I feel fine.”
“We can’t go out of town until that has been seen and treated.”
“But we’re supposed to leave first thing in the morning for Houston. We’re not missing the Super Bowl over this.”
“Then you better call the doctor’s office as soon as they open and tell them you need to be seen today. You’re not going anywhere until somebody tells me you’re okay.”
“They should be open by the time I finish getting ready and have breakfast.”
Bastien continues standing in the doorway watching me get ready. He wants something. “What is it?”
“I bet they take the implant out of your arm.”
“I hope not.” It would suck to go through that discomfort only to have it removed a week later.
“I hope they don’t remove it either. I’ve taken great joy in its benefits.” He’s not lying. The man has been insatiable since I told him we were covered by birth control.
“Maybe I should reap the benefits one last time before it comes out.” Like he needs an excuse.
“You reaped them enough last night to hold you through the entire week.”
“A week? I don’t think so. I’ll admit to getting enough to do me for one day.”
I give him my talk to the hand gesture. “What . . . evva. But serious talk for a minute. You think it’s a bad idea for me to get on a daily birth control?”
“I prefer you didn’t if there are other reasonable options.”
“An IUD is the first thing to come to mind.”
He doesn’t look excited about that. “Is that one of those little rods or
wires they’ll put inside you?”
“There are two different kinds, but yeah. The doctor would insert it inside my uterus, or womb. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Something about having a foreign object shoved inside you doesn’t sit well with me.”
“I don’t think he’ll shove it up in there. I’m sure he’ll gently place it.” Although I believed this implant in my arm would also be placed gently. Wrong.
“Will it harm your chances of getting pregnant or being able to carry a baby after it’s removed?”
I quickly look up, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “You want a baby?”
He sighs. “No, Rose. I’m thinking about what an IUD means for your future . . . after I’m gone and you’ve moved on with your life.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks downward. “Your husband will probably want children.”
I cannot believe he just said that to me. “You told me you wouldn’t say stuff like that anymore. You promised.”
“I promised you I wouldn’t make jokes about my disease or dying. This isn’t a joke. I’m very serious.”
“I want you to stop talking about dying. You aren’t leaving me. And don’t mention another word about me having babies with someone else.” I angrily brush past him on my way to the closet. “You’re the only man I’d ever want to have babies with.”
He follows me to the closet and stands in the doorway while I choose my outfit. “You can’t possibly think having a baby with me is an option.”
I yank my blouse off the hanger and hear a few stitches tear. “And you can’t possibly think I’d want a baby with another man.”
“You don’t know what you’re going to want when—”
I cut him off before he can say those words I despise. “I’m warning you. Don’t dare say it again.”
“You’re being close-minded. Letting your heart do the thinking. You need to be realistic.”
“Bastien. Auguste. Pascal. You are the only man I’ll ever want. Ever. You won’t convince me otherwise. No reason to try so just stop. You’re only managing to piss me off.”
“I’m the only man you’ll ever want, huh?”
I step into my panties and yank them up. “Yeah. Although I’m so mad at you right now, I’m rethinking that.”
“How pissed off are you right now?”
“Exceptionally pissed off.”
“Good.”
He grabs my face and kisses me hard, almost painfully, before pulling away to look into my eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Convincing you to have angry sex.”
He’ll have to work at convincing me better than this. “No. I’m mad at you.”
“That’s the whole point of angry sex.”
Bastien spins me around so my back is pressed to his front. He puts his hands on my hips and uses them to steer me toward the bed. “I’m angry too, Rose. Angry I won’t get to have all the things I want out of this life. And all the things I want with you.”
This is the first time Bastien has ever mentioned a future with me. I want to hear more. “What kind of things do you want with me?”
“A long, normal, healthy, happy life. Maybe with little Cajun babies.”
Oh my God. My heart and panties both just melted. “I want that too.”
He puts his forehead against my back and squeezes my body to his. “We can yearn for it all we want but it’ll never be.”
Hearing him admit that he wants me and a family is simultaneously wonderful and awful. Bastien wants things on his terms and nothing less is acceptable. It’s the one thing I can’t stand about him.
He fists the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs. “Tell me this is okay. Tell me I can show you my anger and frustration and disappointment and how much it hurts inside because I’ll never have that life with you.”
He needs this—an outlet for his agony—and I want to be that for him. The remedy to take away his pain. The fire to warm him when he’s cold. The words when he has nothing to say.
I turn around and cradle my palms around his face. “It’s okay. You never have to be afraid with me. Because I’m never afraid with you.”
I sit on the bed and scoot back so I’m lying in the middle. “Show me everything. Be as aggressive as you need to be. I’ll tell you if it becomes too much. And when you’re finished, show me your soft kisses and gentle hands and loving touch.”
***
“I can’t recall in fifteen years ever seeing someone react to an implant like this.”
“You think it’s a reaction instead of an infection?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what’s going on with it. The localized heat suggests infection but you’re not running fever and your white count is normal. I just don’t know. Either way, it can’t stay in.” No surprise there.
The nurse gathers the supplies for the removal and I recognize the same instruments they used to insert it. I’m not looking forward to this at all. “Does it hurt when you take it out?”
“Similar to when it was placed. Maybe minimally more discomfort with the removal than the placement.” Great.
“Would it be possible to have an IUD placed today?” I’d really like to leave here not having to worry about contraceptives.
“Where were you in your cycle when we placed the implant?”
“Day five.”
“When did you last have intercourse?”
Man, that’s sort of embarrassing to admit I was getting banged right before I came up here. “A couple hours ago.”
“No condom?”
“No; I was covered by the implant. They told me it was safe.” I asked twice.
“You absolutely were covered but the implant is coming out today. It’s possible you could become pregnant if you ovulate in the next five days.”
Bastien will flip out if that happens. No doubt about it.
“What are my options?”
“I can place the IUD today. If a pregnancy occurs over the next five days, the IUD will increase your chances of miscarriage—somewhere in the neighborhood of around fifty percent. In rare cases, an ectopic pregnancy will occur when there’s an IUD in place.”
I don’t want to induce a miscarriage. And I don’t want to increase my odds of an ectopic. That would put my fertility in jeopardy if the tube ruptures. Neither of these options are great.
“I don’t think I’ll get the IUD today.”
“You can schedule an appointment to have it placed after your next period.”
“I think that’s what I want to do.” Annnd . . . we’re back to condoms. Bastien will be thrilled.
“That’ll be fine.”
And it won’t hurt to take another emergency contraceptive pill, just in case.
Chapter Twenty
__________________________________
Bastien Pascal
–
I’m ending a call with a client when Rose comes into my office. “Hey, babe. How’d your appointment go?”
“The doctor wasn’t sure what was going on with the implant so he took it out. We’re back to square one on birth control. Again.”
Well, it was nice while it lasted. Very nice. I’m glad I took advantage of it at every opportunity. “Didn’t do the IUD?”
“Not today.” I’m very okay with her not having it placed. I’ve decided I don’t want her to have one of those put inside her.
The repeated delay with taking the emergency contraceptive pill. The rejection of the implant in her arm. “We don’t have a great track record with contraceptives.”
“We sure don’t.”
She comes around my desk and sits on my lap. I place my hand on her lower back and rub in a circular motion. “What are we trying next?”
Rose leans in and places a soft kiss against my mouth. “Abstinence if our luck with birth control doesn’t change soon.”
I move my free hand to the top of her thigh and squeeze. “I don’t think so. You better come up with a better plan
than that.”
“I’m scheduled to go back to the doctor after my period and have an IUD placed.” I was sort of afraid she was going to say that.
“Ach.” I shrug. “We have time to talk about it.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Which birth control to use.”
Rose leans away to see my face. “I was under the impression you wanted me on a get-it-and-forget-it contraceptive so there’s no more blunders. The IUD is the way to go.”
“I did some research. I didn’t like what I read about them.”
“Like what?”
“They can puncture your uterus. That’s a big deal, Rose. I don’t like it.”
“I’m sure the odds of that happening are minimal.”
“What if you’re that small percentage?” I would feel horrible if she did this to please me and then it caused her complications.
“I won’t get one if you’re that worried about it.”
“It would make me feel better if you didn’t. Maybe you get on the pill instead?”
“Whatever.”
“Just whatever? It’s your body. Shouldn’t you be more concerned than a simple whatever?”
She toys with the front of my hair. “You’re putting way more thought and concern into this than me. I don’t care as long as it works. So yeah, whatever you want, ass grabber.”
God, I love and adore this woman so much. I can’t believe how easy it has been to move from best friends and boss-employee relationship to lovers. Quasi husband and wife. But it has. She takes everything on her shoulders with grace and strength. I was so damn stupid to wait so long, but incredibly glad she took the chance to love me. To stay.
As I glance at the open email on the screen, I know I need to get back to work. But I like this kind of interruption. I’m enjoying her on my lap.
It was the best move bringing her into PPI. She is intelligent, picks up new things effortlessly, and works efficiently. Undoubtedly the best personal assistant I could have hired.
“You know what? I say screw it. Let’s get out of here.”
“But I just got to work.”
“We’ve been busting our asses to catch up and get ahead before our long weekend. We’ve worked hard. We’re leaving in the morning anyway so let’s blow this joint.”
Dear Agony Page 17
