Dear Agony

by Georgia Cates

  “Umm . . . yeah. Lunch would be great.”

  “Where do you want to go? Your choice.” My stomach is in knots. I’m not in the mood for anything so I blurt out a restaurant I know Bastien enjoys.

  “Twelve thirty?”

  “Yeah, I can make that.”

  “Okay. See you then. Love you, baby.”

  “Love you.”

  I end my call and widen my eyes at Vale. “Shit. I’m going to see him in forty-five minutes.”

  “And you’re going to walk into that restaurant and smile and kiss his mouth and have a lovely lunch together. But first you’re going into the bathroom to fix your face or he will definitely know something is up.”

  “Right.”

  I look at the image staring back in the mirror. What a freaking mess. I’ve got to get myself under control.

  I touch up my makeup, adding a little extra to cover the red blotches around my eyes. I hope my eyeballs aren’t this bloodshot by the time I see him.

  I come out for Vale’s inspection. “Well?”

  “Much better. And your eyes should be less red by the time you get to the restaurant.”

  My stomach is churning. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  “That’s what pregnant women do, honey.” Oh, crap.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s nerves since I’m not that far along.”

  “Did they give you a due date?”

  “November third.” Saying the date—the day my baby could be born—makes this feel really . . . real.

  “A baby in time for the holidays. That would be so wonderful.”

  Nothing about this feels wonderful right now.

  ***

  I made it through lunch. Made it through the remainder of the work day. Made it through dinner and our evening at home. But it’s bedtime now and I know what Bastien is ready to do.

  I want the same thing.

  This is our special time—when we’re raw, bared, exposed. We put everything else in our world aside and make this moment about the two of us.

  Except now, it isn’t just the two of us. There’s a tiny little person here too.

  There hasn’t been a single second today when the baby wasn’t on my mind. I imagined life with Bastien a year from now, two years, three years. All with our son or daughter. The three of us smiling and laughing. A happy family. Exactly what he told me he dreamed of having with me. He said his disease robbed him of that possibility. But it hasn’t. The child he always wanted is inside me. His progeny to continue his family line.

  I’ve decided I’m happy about this little person we’ve created. I don’t need days or weeks to think about what I should do. I want this baby. And I want him to want this baby.

  This child was created out of our love for one another. I believe it happened with a purpose. I think our child was conceived to save Bastien’s life.

  Give him a reason to live.

  I crawl into bed and Bastien wastes no time coming to me. “You’ve been distant today. Everything okay?”

  That’s my Bastien. Never doubted for a minute that he wouldn’t pick up on my anxiety. “I’m good now.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “We will later. Right now, I just want you to make love to me.”

  “Well, as your companion, it is my job to give you everything you want.”

  He tugs me toward him so we meet in the middle of the bed. “Always so beautiful.”

  I pull his bottom lip into my mouth and suck hard for a moment before releasing. “Mmm . . . that’s sexy.”

  I drag mine back and forth over his mouth, teasing him. Tempting him to suck my lip into his mouth. And he does.

  My palms glide up the solid, muscular ridges of his arms, shoulders, and neck. Satiny to touch, hard as stone beneath my palms. My fingertips follow the muscles in the back of his neck in an upward direction. He trembles when my nails scrape over his scalp and my fingers lace through his hair.

  He releases my lip and I press a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. Then another. And another. I open a little at a time until I lure his tongue out.

  A soft moan slips through my lips when our tongues touch, igniting a fiery chain of events: Bastien grabbing the backs of my upper thighs and pulling me against him. My legs wrapping around his waist. His body pressing between my legs.

  “I can hardly stand seeing you at work. I spend all day thinking about how I want to shut my office door and have you on top of my desk.” Oh God. Yes.

  “I wouldn’t say no.”

  Bastien presses a kiss below my ear and moves his mouth down the side of my neck. His hands similarly mimic the motion beginning at my ribcage and moving down my sides, waist, and bottom.

  I tighten my legs around him when he digs his fingertips into my flesh. Love when he does that.

  Squirming beneath him, tingly waves of sensation toss and turn deep within my pelvis. A storm of moans, groans, and panted breathing brewing beneath the surface.

  Together, we remove his clothes. He takes full responsibility for my panties, pushing his fingers into the waistband and dragging them down my hips and legs. “I don’t know why we come to bed wearing clothes.”

  I giggle. “They never stay on, do they?”

  My knees fall apart. His open invitation.

  “We’re covered?”

  I guess we are since I’m already pregnant. “Yes.”

  I am so in love with this amazing man. And I’m elated to have a part of him growing inside me. Means I get to have a piece of him forever.

  As our bodies join to become one, I experience a moment of calm. Peace. Bliss. The first I’ve felt since being told I was pregnant.

  I tune out the dread. The worry. The angst. And just feel the love and want I have for Bastien. And this baby.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  __________________________________

  Bastien Pascal

  –

  Sex with Rose is always amazing but that was intense. Fervent. Hardcore. I loved every kiss. Every touch. Every second of togetherness.

  I press a kiss to Rose’s mouth before rolling away to lie on my back, bringing her body with mine. She settles into her usual place, her head on my chest, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Just as I always do, I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. “Love you, baby girl.”

  She twists her body and lifts her face so we make eye contact. “How much do you love me?”

  This is one of those times when there isn’t an answer befitting the question. Words aren’t enough to convey the way I feel about her. “With all of my heart but that isn’t it entirely. Because it isn’t just how much I love you. It’s how there is no one else on this earth that I love as much as you. You are it for me. The one.”

  I wasn’t sure it was possible—finding one woman who’d fulfill my every need. Make me whole. But I have it all with Rose.

  Her eyes fill with tears and one breaches the dam of her lid, sliding down her cheek. “No one has ever said anything so touching and significant to me.”

  I can’t resist kissing her forehead. “I better be the only one telling you how much he loves you.”

  “You know you are.” That’s one of the things I love so much about Rose—the trust we share. I’ve never had that kind of reliance with any woman.

  My girl moves to sit on top of me, straddling my hips. “It’s a little soon for round two but I can try if you’re ready.”

  Rose shakes her head and her lovely smile transitions into a frown. What the hell? “Hey, hey, baby. What’s wrong?”

  She’s sobbing when she leans forward and presses her face to the side of my neck. “Rose. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m so afraid to tell you, Bash.”

  “Rose, this isn’t who we are. I don’t want fear to keep you from confiding in me. You never have to be afraid to tell me anything.”

  I feel her shake her head against my neck
but no words come.

  Has she changed her mind? Does she want to leave me? I’m confused. She was very adamant about staying when I tried to end our relationship months ago.

  Have Wendy’s taunts affected her? Surely she doesn’t believe anything Wendy says.

  “There are a lot of unsavory thoughts going through my head right now. I need you to tell me what this is about and put me out of my misery.”

  She burrows her face into the side of my neck. “I’m . . . pregnant.”

  Pregnant? Pregnant. Pregnant!

  Holy.

  Shit.

  I was prepared to soothe her the way I do when she has a nightmare. I was going to hold her close and tell her nothing would make me upset with her. I was going to stroke her hair with my hand, put my arms around her, and tell her she’s okay.

  But she’s not okay.

  And I’m not okay.

  Nothing about this is okay.

  “Are you positive?”

  “The doctor confirmed it today.” She sits up and leans over to turn on the lamp. She opens the top drawer of the bedside table and takes out a piece of paper. “They did an ultrasound.”

  She turns the paper so I can see it. “This is a picture of the baby. It’s due November third.”

  I look at the ink on the white paper. It’s nothing but a smear of black to me. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

  She points to a tiny white dot in the center of a black triangle. “That’s the baby. Our baby. It’s tiny because I’m not very far along.”

  It doesn’t look like a baby to me. Only a spot where the printer missed inking the paper.

  “I’m freaking out. I need you to tell me how you feel about this.”

  I made it my job to take care of her. That means calming her when she’s upset. Reassuring her all is well. “It’s all right. Don’t freak out.”

  Rose’s face relaxes. “Oh, God. You don’t know how terrified I was that you were going to be upset about it.”

  I don’t like that Rose was afraid to talk to me about this. “I’m not upset. I’m also not surprised. Not after all the bad luck we’ve had with birth control.”

  She’s smiling, visibly more relaxed. “I think it happened that morning before they removed the implant. During our angry sexcapade.”

  “I can believe that.” I’m the one smiling now. That was one wild morning of sex.

  I hug her tightly. “It was an accident. I don’t want you to worry about it. We’ll fix it.”

  “Fix it?”

  “Yeah. You caught it early. That’s good. It’ll make an abortion a lot easier. You’ll recover in no time.”

  She sits up, still straddling me. “Just like that? You want to abort our child without so much as asking me what I want or how I feel about it?”

  I guess that did come out sounding exceptionally thoughtless. “Okay. Tell me what you want and how you feel.”

  “I was upset when the nurse told me but mostly because I was terrified of what your reaction would be. I’ve spent all day thinking about it, and I’ve decided I want this baby. I want us to raise him or her together. We can be the family you always wanted. The one I never had.”

  Why must she pretend everything is normal and I’m not sick? Like I won’t be dead soon. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “We’re adults. It can happen if we decide we want it to happen.”

  “But I don’t want it to happen. I don’t want this baby.”

  She leans away from me and looks as though I’ve slapped her in the face. “I don’t understand how you can say that. This is your child inside me. Your son or daughter. How can you not want it? I’ve only known about it half a day and I already love it.”

  “Think about it, Rose. Why would I want to bring a baby into my life right before I end it?”

  “Please stop saying that. You’re not ending your life. I won’t let you.”

  “I am, baby girl. And you need to hurry up and accept that.”

  “I will never accept that. Never. Not in a million years.”

  “I love you, Rose. If my circumstances were different, I’d be thrilled to hear we’re having a baby. You’re right, that’s been my absolute dream in life for as long as I can remember. But not under these circumstances. A baby at this point in my life would be the worst possible scenario.”

  “This baby has to die because you’ve decided you don’t want to live?”

  It sounds horribly self-serving when she says it out loud. Can’t deny it.

  “We both know that my plan goes to shit if you bring a baby into my life.” How would I look at my child and turn my back on it? I wouldn’t and she knows that.

  “You’d ditch that stupid plan because you’d love this child so much you’d want to be around to raise it.”

  “That’s what you’re counting on, right? Forcing me to stay alive by using this baby?”

  “If I have to.”

  There it is. She thinks this baby will be the reason I won’t push through with my agenda. The clause to prevent my death. Would she . . . Oh, hell, no. Surely not. “Did you do this on purpose—get pregnant because you thought it would stop me from ending my life?”

  She straightens and stares at me for a moment. Her lips curl inward, around her teeth. Face scrunched. Her I’m not going to cry face. But it doesn’t work. I see the tears forming.

  And I also see how deeply I’ve wounded her.

  “Of course I didn’t, Bash. But I do believe this baby was conceived because fate has other plans for you. And so do I.”

  “I want to die with dignity. It should be my decision. On my terms. This baby changes everything.” My choice is being taken from me. Rose is wearing blinders and fails to see that. Or maybe she’s choosing to ignore it.

  “You can hate me if you want but keeping this baby alive means keeping you alive. I won’t have an abortion.”

  We’re on opposite sides, and it isn’t a simple, temporary fence dividing us. It’s a wall—a big, thick, tall one. “Do you understand what this means? I’m telling you I don’t want this baby and your response is that you don’t care. You’re going against my wishes even if it impacts my life negatively. That’s a huge problem for me.”

  “What are you saying?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

  Dammit. I’ve finally found what my heart has been seeking all these years. I was going to get to live out my final days with love and peace and happiness. The words I’m about to say are going to shatter everything. Every. Thing.

  “We can’t be together if you insist on having this baby.”

  Rose cups her hands over her mouth and shakes her head. “No . . . no, Bash. Don’t say that. Don’t make me choose between you and our child.”

  I won’t be able to do what I have to do if this child is in my life. “If you choose this baby, I will financially support both of you. I partly created it so it’s my responsibility, but I don’t want to ever see it or have contact with it. That means no contact with you other than transferring money into an account.”

  Her chest shudders as a loud sob escapes. “No. I don’t want your money. I want you.” She crumples over me, her face pressed to my chest. “Please don’t do this. Please.”

  I’m watching Rose fall to pieces right before my eyes. And I’m crumbling right with my girl.

  Can’t look at her. At her pain. Her agony.

  My plan is set. I love Rose with all my heart, but I’m immovable. There’s no way to have it both ways here. Dammit to hell. I hate this, but she needs to see how serious I am . . . even if it destroys us.

  “You can either terminate the pregnancy and be with me until the time I decide I’m ready to end my life or you can keep the baby and we part ways now. Your choice.”

  She lifts her head and our eyes lock. Red, swollen, tear-filled eyes stare back at me. I hate seeing her this way. Hate knowing I’m the one to bring her so much pain.

  “I lose you now if I don’t abort the baby. I los
e you later if I do. Either way I’m saying goodbye to you. At least I’ll have a part of you to hold on to if I keep our child. If I abort it, I’ll have nothing. I end up alone. I don’t choose that.” Her voice, only a timid whisper a minute ago, is now that of an angry woman.

  She forcefully pushes away from me, gets out of bed, and fetches her panties and nightgown from the floor. My heart sinks. She’s made her choice.

  And it’s not me.

  On her way out, she stops in the doorway but doesn’t turn around. “If you loved me with all of your heart the way you say, I would have been reason enough for you to want to live. Baby or no baby. But I’m not and that breaks my heart.”

  I hear the door to her old bedroom slam and my heart begs me to go to her. It wants to tell her we’ll work this out. It wants me to tell her everything will be okay.

  But that isn’t the truth.

  Everything is not okay.

  My tremors are worsening, not on a daily basis yet, but I feel them progressively increasing. A slow progression won’t always be the case. The day will come, sooner rather than later, when I no longer control my body. A decision must be made prior to that day.

  I know she loves me and will grieve and mourn my death. I don’t want that for her, but it is what it is now. My heart is tearing in two, but I believe I’m right on this: Rose shouldn’t be around when my end comes.

  Damn. A baby—a son or daughter. God knows I’ve wanted that for so long, but because of these circumstances, I’ll never know my own child. I won’t raise him or her. I won’t get to be a father.

  Fate is a cruel, callous bastard.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  __________________________________

  Rose Middleton

  ∞

  Agony, I hate this.

  I’ve been hurt by a lot of different people in my life, and in many different ways. Pain is pain. It’s always been the same to me. But no one has ever reached into my chest, squeezed the protective barbed wire around my heart, and used it to puncture my love the way Bastien did.

  No one. Ever.

  I already love this baby. How can Bastien not love it too?