WORTHY

by Lexie Ray

  “Michelle, how could you even ask that?” Jonathan asked, holding me out at arm’s length and studying my face. I cringed to the right, as usual, giving him as much of my profile as I could. “I love you. I told you that this doesn’t change a goddamn thing between us. Are you telling me something different now? Is this too much for you?”

  Stung by his response, I shrugged my shoulders, partly to indicate that I didn’t know and partly to get him to let go of me. I didn’t like this kind of scrutiny.

  “I just missed you,” I said. “How was it? Did you remember anything?”

  Jonathan sat down on the couch heavily, with a big sigh. I settled down next to him with a little less comfort. Had he left the cottage as my fiancé and returned a stranger? Was this Jonathan, my love, or the Jonathan in the photograph that the suits had showed us?

  “My memories are gone, as far as we know,” he said. “By we, I mean my neurologist. I underwent a CT scan and he determined that I had suffered a blow to the head. Losing my memory as thoroughly as I did—that’s rare. Rare, but not outside the realm of possibility.”

  “So it’s possible that you might never get your memories back?” I asked. That he would remain Jonathan, my fiancé, for the rest of our days instead of someday transforming back into Jonathan of the photograph? That question was selfish and unfair, and I left it unsaid.

  “It looks that way,” he said. “I mean, I saw the compound and everything, saw my room, saw photographs of my family, spoke with staff who’ve known me for my entire life, but there was nothing. No light of recognition, no way to know what or whom I knew.”

  Jonathan’s eyebrows drew together and I hugged him to me. I couldn’t bear for him to be so upset. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to feel adrift, outside of who you were supposed to be and what you were supposed to be doing.

  “So what happens now?” I asked, stroking his dark hair. I imagined how it shined when it was slicked back, but shook my head free of that thought. That was the Jonathan I didn’t know. I needed to support my Jonathan, the one who didn’t know where to go now.

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Jonathan said, scooting back on the couch so that he could look into my eyes.

  “Uh-oh,” I said automatically, reacting to his serious tone of voice.

  “There’s no ‘uh-oh,’” he reassured me. “But I did want to see what you think about coming back with me—back to the city, the compound.”

  He wanted me to rejoin society for him? I would do anything for Jonathan, but this tore my heart apart.

  “You don’t want to go,” he said, making me realize that my face was betraying my surging emotions.

  “I’ve been by myself for so long,” I said. “I want to be with you, Jonathan, I do. But I don’t know if I could survive back in civilization. I mean, my face …”

  “There is nothing wrong with your face,” Jonathan said fiercely. “Nothing. Michelle, you’re beautiful. When I was in the city, away from you, all I did was miss you. You are my past, present, and future. I want to be with you, but it seems like I have responsibilities to fulfill in the city.”

  His raw devotion to me made me tear up, but I tried to be strong.

  “I missed you every minute of every day while you were gone,” I said. “It’s true—I have been alone for so long, but I can’t be without you anymore. You’ve spoiled me.”

  “And I look forward to spoiling you even more,” Jonathan said, smiling as he feathered a touch over my lips. “I’m rich, apparently. I can support both of us easily. We can have whatever we want.”

  “I think we’ve been supporting each other out here just fine,” I said softly. “But I know that it’s important for you to try this out. This is who you were—are—and you need to see if this is what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Jonathan said, brushing my hair away from my face. I had to bite my lip to keep from flinching away from his touch. One person seeing my scars was bad enough. But did the rest of the world have to ogle my dark past?

  “So when are you thinking about going back?” I asked.

  “You mean when are we thinking about going back?” he corrected, putting his arm around my shoulder. “I was hoping as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you think we can.”

  “Tomorrow?” I felt like my head was spinning on my shoulders. “I—I don’t know, Jonathan. There are a lot of things to do here. I need to finish winterizing everything. What will we do with the chickens?”

  “Dinner?” he suggested, his face the picture of innocence until I pinched him. “Ow!”

  “You can’t just pick up and leave from a farm,” I said. “I have responsibilities here, too.”

  “I know you do,” he said. “I’ll help you take care of whatever still needs to be done. And if it doesn’t work out for us in the city—if we decide that life is better out here, we’ll come back. And I’ll get you some new chickens.”

  Leaving this place was more than slaughtering a few hens. This had become my home—my refuge. How could I leave it?

  Looking at Jonathan as he continued to talk about the life he’d discovered—the richness of the compound, the responsibilities of his job, the perks of having staff—I realized that I’d leave the cottage and everything for this man. I loved him. I’d never known love before I met him, and I knew I’d follow him to the ends of the earth.

  “Michelle?”

  I jumped at his quiet prompting. “What?”

  “What are you thinking about?” His forehead had a single line of concern knitting his eyebrows together.

  I smiled quickly for him, eager to erase that line. “I was just thinking that I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “We can go shopping,” he said eagerly. “I’d love to buy you clothes—especially since you bought me all those clothes when we first met. You saved my life, Michelle, and helped me build a new one. I can never repay you, but that won’t stop me from trying.”

  “I don’t need you to buy me clothes,” I said, laughing. “I have money.”

  “But I have lots of money, apparently,” Jonathan said, a fleeting, troubled look flitting across his face. “I’m going to take care of you like you took care of me.”

  “Then I have an idea of how you can start,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him brazenly. I had missed him body, heart, and soul, and I wanted at least one more night with him in the place where our love had blossomed.

  “We’re going to have to give the cottage a fitting send-off, aren’t we?” he asked, smiling at me and pulling my sweatshirt off my shoulder so he could plant a soft kiss there.

  “I think we are,” I agreed.

  We kissed for a long time on the couch, leisurely, as if we weren’t in any hurry. It hurt my heart a little—if we wanted to, every night could be like this, making out on the sofa without a care in the world.

  After tonight, it was possible we’d never be here again.

  Jonathan’s hand slipping up my sweatshirt and cupping one of my free breasts distracted me from my melancholy. Tonight was going to special, then. We would give this place a fitting send-off, just like my fiancé said.

  What was first a relaxed reacquainting of our bodies became a more heated, more passionate, more demanding dance. Jonathan’s fingers against my nipples made me squirm, made me fight to run my hands down his fit torso. We pushed and pulled against each other, kissing all the while, sharing breaths as the room suddenly became much too hot.

  We yanked the clothing off each other, and I was eager to see what he looked like. I’d missed him, missed this, missed us so much. Seeing his naked body was like seeing a beloved friend after a long time apart. I wanted to worship it, to never let it out of my sight again.

  “Come here, baby,” he groaned, dragging me into his lap. I loved the feeling of his cock pressing against my pelvis, of his potent desire. It was intoxicating.

  I straddled his legs, and he helped me to lift myself up, sinking back do
wn again onto his erection. It was as if I’d been a puzzle missing a piece but didn’t realize it until now. Everything seemed so right with him inside me. I felt strong, hopeful. I’d leave the cottage, and it’d be hard, at first, but I’d have Jonathan there with me every step of the way.

  He thrust up into me, dragging me back into the present, and the movements of him inside me were all I could think about. Each pumping motion, the rock of me across his lap, the way he held onto me, his arms circling my waist, reminded me that Jonathan was the man I loved. I loved him, and I would do anything for him.

  My heart melted and so did I—I came, needy and wanton and moaning as his cock pushed against that secret spot inside of me, my clitoris making contact with his pelvis each time he thrust up and into me. There was nothing better than this, nothing better than reaching completion with the person I loved.

  Jonathan echoed that sentiment as he groaned out his climax, squeezing me to him so tightly that I had trouble breathing. I hugged him back, holding him as he shuddered.

  “God, I missed you,” he said, his words muffled with his mouth against my neck.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I suggested, smiling.

  “Not for sleeping, I hope.” Jonathan lifted his head to meet my gaze.

  “No, not for sleeping.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It didn’t take as long as I’d hoped to get everything in order in the cottage and surrounding property. We built a crackling fire—the first and last of the season—just so all that wood we’d chopped wouldn’t go to waste.

  “Do you think we should take some of the canned food?” I asked, then felt stupid as soon as the question left my mouth. Of course we wouldn’t need any of the canned food. We were going to live in a “compound.” The winters would be much more seasonable there.

  “You take whatever you want to,” Jonathan said. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

  “Ooh,” I said, teasing. “Can I take a chicken?”

  He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “If you must.”

  I laughed. We’d been eating a chicken a day, feeling fat and sassy. I’d finally resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to slaughter the rest and freeze them. As long as the power never failed, they’d be good for months.

  “We can come back and visit,” Jonathan promised. “Maybe even on weekends. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  It sounded nice, but it also sounded like a platitude. Once we were both back in the city, we’d probably find excuses to keep from going out here. Having a cottage that required upkeep would be more and more of an inconvenience.

  Finally, dressed in my nicest jeans and boots and a sweater that wasn’t too terribly ratty, I was ready to go. All I’d packed were a few essentials and the framed photograph of my family when I was young.

  “Are you sure that’s all you’re taking?” Jonathan asked, eyeing my backpack. “I’ve got a big car, you know. We can even take furniture.”

  “Everything that’s here belongs here,” I said, looking around at the innards of the cottage for what would probably be the last time. “It would be strange to take it out of its element.”

  “Is that what I’m doing to you?” he asked, his voice soft. “Taking you out of your element?”

  I stepped into his embrace, the feel of his chin on my head, the way I simply fit into his body comforting me.

  “Yes,” I allowed, “but you’re my element. I’ll go where you go.”

  “If the thing in the city doesn’t work out, we should come back,” Jonathan said, holding me close to him. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye forever. I promise.”

  “I know.”

  I paused outside of Jonathan’s SUV as he tossed my backpack inside. The cottage looked so small, but it was so dear to me. Even with the gray skies overhead and the leafless trees, this place was still beautiful. It held a magic for me I’d never get tired of.

  I slipped into the SUV, tamping down a small moment of panic. It’d been a long time since I’d been inside a car.

  “How did you first get out here?” Jonathan asked. “You know, when you first moved out to the cottage.”

  “I took a taxi,” I said, smiling at the memory. The driver had been horrified—almost as horrified as I was when I got the bill.

  “That must’ve been a hell of a fare,” Jonathan said, grinning.

  His talk helped me relax, got my mind off of the cottage that was becoming smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, and helped me forget about the fact that I was in a car. I hated cars.

  Jonathan and I talked cheerfully about what we’d do when we got to the city. Wharton Group was headquartered in Chicago. It was about three hours away from my little cottage. I was grateful for the chatter. It helped keep me calm and focused.

  It was actually interesting to see the sights of the road. I’d been so removed from civilization for so long that seeing things like pavement and street signs was novel. But as we got closer to the city, more and more cars joined us on the highway. Buildings sprouted from the ground like enormous concrete and steel and glass trees, and I had to admit that even the urban jungle was beautiful in its own way.

  “Doing all right?” Jonathan asked, glancing over at me.

  I smiled and nodded. As long as I was with him, everything was all right.

  Soon, we were in the city proper, the tall buildings obscuring the horizon and everything else around us. There were people all around us, and I brought my hair in front of my face. So many eyes had the chance to gawk at my ruined face, but everyone bustled, absorbed in their own lives. Was it possible for me to exist in the city without getting a second glance? Maybe I could hide in the crowd instead of the wilderness.

  “Here we are,” Jonathan announced, turning in front of an assortment of buildings.

  I understood immediately why they called it “the compound.” The business side of Wharton Group was contained in a series of glittering glass buildings. They looked extremely modern and clean.

  We pulled up to the turnaround, and attendants immediately sprang to action, opening my door. I assumed my defensive stance—turning to the right—to try to avoid their curious stares. Taking my hair out from behind my ear, I further concealed my scarred face.

  “Anything I can take for you, ma’am?” the attendant asked, assisting me in getting out of the car. Didn’t anyone do things for themselves here? The cold wind took my breath away for a moment. How did it find its way through all the buildings from the lake?

  “I’ve got it,” I said, opening the door to the backseat and snagging my backpack. “Just this.”

  “Very good,” the attendant said stoically. Jonathan walked around the SUV and joined me on the other side.

  “Ready for this?” he asked, sounding, if possible, even more nervous than me.

  “Now or never,” I said, trying to hide my anxiety with cheerfulness.

  We walked into the first building, through the opulently modern lobby.

  “This is, apparently, my company,” Jonathan announced, taking me by the hand and squeezing it. I realized how strange it had to be to be in charge of a place he couldn’t remember.

  “Tell me about it,” I suggested, snaking my arm around his waist as we walked.

  “Well, the buildings house the different facets of Wharton Group,” Jonathan said, sounding as if he were reciting a speech he’d memorized by heart. “There’s the development and testing sectors, the marketing and promotion sectors, the sales sector, and about half a dozen more I can’t remember.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” I said, feeling miniscule and inadequate as we passed by an enormous fountain with a beautiful marble nude woman in the middle. She was perfect and well suited for this place. I was not. Even though I’d taken care with my clothes and appearance before leaving the cottage this morning, I felt irreversibly shabby. I struggled to tamp down my insecurities. Jonathan needed my support, not my weakness. I was here for him, not to drown him in my hang-ups.

&n
bsp; “I hope I’ll get everything,” he said, frowning as he glanced at the fountain. “I am in charge of all of it. Or I was.”

  “You are,” I said. “We’ll get it figured out. Don’t worry.”

  “With you by my side, I’m not,” Jonathan said, smiling and kissing me. The statement warmed my heart. We relied on each other. That’s what a relationship was all about. We were equal partners and balanced lovers. He needed me and I needed him. And because we loved each other, we were able to support each other.

  For the first time, I thought that we might succeed here in the city.

  “And beyond the courtyard here, we have the living portion of the compound,” Jonathan said, holding the door open for me. The courtyard was magnificent, and I was sure its beauty would only grow in the spring. There was a stream snaking through the pavers and flowerpots dotting the sides. Bare trees and bushes studded the property, as well as café tables and chairs. I could see myself spending a lot of time out here, especially during the summer—if we were here that long. That was a strange idea. Out in the cottage, I had to always keep planning ahead. Here in the city, nothing was certain.

  “So this is home,” I said, passing through the next door that Jonathan held open for me.

  “That’s what they tell me,” he said. It would’ve made for a clever joke if it weren’t true: his staff had probably had to tell him everything.

  The living quarters were splendid and plush. The foyer opened up with magnificent high ceilings, a crystal chandelier dripping down. I could see several sets of stairs.

  “Just how big is this place?” I marveled, gaping. The first thing I thought of was what a pain it would be to keep clean. I was so used to the limited space of the cottage. Where would you even get enough stuff to fill this place?

  “It’s five stories,” Jonathan said, as casually as someone can say something like that. “The bottom floor is the common area, where the family gathers to eat and socialize.”