by Lynn, Sophia
She realized he was coming closer, and after a moment, he took his hands out of his pockets. Marnie knew that she should step back, tell him to back off. But no matter how bad an idea she knew this was, her body couldn't seem to agree, nor could her heart. With every step that he took towards her, her body only wanted him closer. When he wrapped his arms around her, she found her arms resting around his narrow waist.
"Do you know you have only grown more lovely since I left?" he asked, looking down at her.
"You called me beautiful earlier," she murmured, unsure of what she was saying. "You … never did that before."
"Then I was an idiot when were together," he said firmly. "When I look at you, I see a woman who will be beautiful all her life. You were beautiful when you took your first breath and your first steps. You will be beautiful when you are old and need a cane to walk about. You are beautiful right now."
"Why are you saying this?" Marnie asked. All she wanted was to breathe in the good, clean scent of him, to be as close to him as she could.
"Because I never said it before, and because a woman like you deserves to be told she is beautiful. And shown."
She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, and his mouth came down over hers. The kiss that they had shared before was delicious, but it was a furtive thing, quick and fast. This one, oh, this one was the one she felt as if she had been waiting for years. It took its time, taking care to wake up each and every one of her nerves. When his tongue pressed between her lips, she gave herself up to it, letting him explore her mouth in the way that he knew best. It was and wasn't like what they had had together before. Her body knew his, but it didn't. The only thing that she was sure hadn't changed was that she wanted him like a woman dying of thirst wanted water.
Somehow, they ended up half-lying on her small couch, his large body pressing her to the cushions. When he rose over her, he blocked out the dim light of her lamp. Marnie could feel how strong he was, and she pressed herself up against him until she could feel his arousal as well.
"I remember you," she found herself whispering.
"I remember you," he responded.
When he leaned down to kiss her this time, he started at the tender cup of her ear, nibbling around the edge until she whimpered. When he took her ear lobe between his teeth, she stopped herself from crying out, but just barely. The slight sliver of pain only made the sweetness of his tongue and his lips more intense. His hands roamed her body, sliding over her curves with the ease of familiarity. Her thin dress felt like it was barely there, and then his hand was sliding up along her bare thigh …
"Okay, I'm getting out now!" Victoria shouted from the bathroom, and for a moment both Marnie and Philip froze. The thought of being caught in the act was simultaneously hilarious and frustrating, and fortunately, both of them decided to laugh it off.
"That's good, honey. Go get your pajamas on."
"Okay!"
Marnie pressed against Philip's shoulder, and after a moment, he sat up with a sigh.
"So this is what being a parent is like," he joked, and she shook her head with a giggle.
"Really, this is the easy version. But it's probably just as well she stopped us. I mean … I don't know about you, but I'm really not sure where we're going with this …"
"Oh, I have a good idea," Philip quipped, but he nodded. "You're not wrong. There's a lot going on, and if we're going to make the best choices for ourselves and for Victoria, well, we shouldn't rush into things."
"That sounds about right …"
"What does?" asked Victoria, who had come out in her rabbit pajamas.
"Nothing to worry about, sweetie," Marnie said affectionately. "But you're just in time to say good night to Philip, who's leaving."
Was that a flash of disappointment across her daughter's face? It seemed far too soon for Victoria to get attached.
"Goodbye," she said, hiding her face in her mother's thigh.
Philip looked as if he longed to say more, but he only nodded. "It was wonderful getting to spend the day with you both," he said softly. "Thank you for having me."
Marnie reached down to touch her daughter's dark hair. It was still soaked, and in a bit, she would go towel it off for her a little better.
"Don't worry, Victoria, Philip will be back. He's visiting for a little while, so we'll see him soon."
Victoria looked up, dark eyes suspicious. "Really?" she asked.
"Really," Philip answered.
For just a moment, it looked like Victoria might rush over to give him a hug. Then she remembered herself and clung a little harder to her mother.
"Yeah, that's our cue that it's time to wrap things up," Marnie said with a sigh. "Someone's getting a little too tired to stay up."
Philip sighed, a soft regretful sound, but he nodded. "I definitely will be back," he said. "But for now, good night, and I hope you have sweet dreams, Victoria."
He waited for a moment, but Victoria only clung to Marnie's leg.
" 'Good night, Marnie."
"Night, Philip."
For one mad moment, she thought that she was going to reach out and kiss him. It would have been ridiculous. It would have been too many things to explain at once and far too much to fit into that day. Instead she thought of it, imagined the soft brush of his lips and the gentleness of his hand as it brushed over her cheek.
Then he nodded, and the door clicked shut behind him. After a moment, she locked the door and threw the bolt, turning down to her small daughter.
"Did you have a good day, baby?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," said Victoria, pulling back a little. "Tired now, though."
"Okay, well, why don't we heat up some soup and have some quiet time, all right? Does that sound good? "
Victoria nodded, and Marnie breathed a silent sigh of relief. Quiet time was time spent together with no need for words or interruptions, and it was one of her favorite times to be with her daughter. However, today, more than just being a silent and strong connection between them, there was a sense of recovery and thoughtfulness as she heated up their soup.
Her mind was buzzing with everything that had happened, and at the bottom of it all was Philip. She had never expected him to come back in her life, and she had certainly never expected him to come back like this. However, now he had, and her heart beat faster just thinking about it.
She wasn't a headstrong girl anymore, however. She couldn't be that reckless graduate throwing herself after the man she wanted like breathing. She was an adult now, with all of an adult's responsibilities. She had a daughter to look after.
Still, when she was settled down with Victoria sprawled across the other end of the couch, she wondered what it would be like to have a third person there, a man with black hair and black eyes who looked at her and her daughter as if they were the most precious beings on earth …
*
The cab driver was mercifully silent as he drove Philip back to his hotel room. Philip was so distracted that he wasn't sure he could have answered the man at all.
That was my daughter.
The thought echoed in his mind over and over again, like a bell that would not stop tolling. The reality of it was inescapable in a way that it hadn't been before. It was one thing to see the little girl at the bookstore, another thing to see her and to know for sure.
No … not the little girl. Victoria. A tiny person in her own right, one who was half him. It was something that his brain still struggled with. He couldn't believe that she was a part of him, and in that moment, no matter what else happened, he knew that she always would be. No matter what happened between himself and Marnie, a part of his heart would always belong to Victoria.
It was exalting. It was terrifying.
And Marnie …
He wasn't lying when he said he had thought of her often. As time had gone by and Philip had taken over more of the tasks that his family set before him, his thoughts often drifted
back to his time in New York, and Marnie was a part of that. Sometimes, he had wondered if he had conflated her with a time of freedom in his life, when he had had fewer responsibilities and could do as he liked.
Upon seeing her again, however, he had learned that that was definitely not the case. She had grown from being a promising girl to a powerful woman. When he had heard that she was a novelist, he had been unsurprised to realize how good she was. When she looked at him with that small smile on her face, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she were prepared to see right through him, he had felt his heart beat faster.
She was magnificent, and regardless of what might happen, he wanted her as well.
However, as the recent weeks had taught him, what he wanted and what he could have were two different things. With a flinch of wariness, he turned on his phone to see several messages from his family there.
They came from both his mother and his father, and they read about like what he expected. They were disappointed with him and the choices he had made. They were furious that he left when things were going so well with the princess. They were covering for him now, but they would not do so forever.
For a moment, he was half-tempted to tell them about their granddaughter, to shock and horrify them with the very evidence of his wild ways, but he knew that that would be unfair to both Victoria and to Marnie. He knew his parents well, and the moment they knew about Victoria, they would swing into action. Perhaps Marnie would be paid off, something he knew would shock and disgust her, or perhaps darker doings would occur.
No, Philip knew that he had to play this one close to the chest for at least a short while. All he knew right this moment was that Victoria held his heart in her small hands and that he was beginning to suspect that her mother did the same.
Still fully clothed, he lay down on the big hotel bed, for the first time thinking about how empty it was. Since returning to Navarra, he had had several affairs, all brief, all forgettable. He wondered suddenly if Marnie had had the same luxury. Had her bed felt this empty after Victoria was born? How had she survived it?
He didn't know much about single parenting, let alone single parenting in the United States, but for the first time, he wondered how hard it was, how she had been alone.
Impulsively, he sent her a text.
How did you do it?
Her response was brisk and nearly immediate.
How did I do what?
Raise a daughter all on your own.
There was a longer pause while she typed out her response. He could imagine the two of them resting together now, sprawled on the couch and taking a break after their long day. For not the first time, he wished he was with them.
I didn't do it alone, not really. Cassie was there, and I've got a lot of friends who helped out. It was hard a few times, and more than once I thought I just would not be able to make it through, but hey, guess what, I'm still here and so's Victoria. After that, I figure that everything else is extra.
He laughed a little at her answer, but he could sense the loneliness behind it as well.
I think you're doing a great job. She's wonderful.
Thank you! I think she's pretty darned great too!
He paused. It felt good, amazing even, to be able to speak with Marnie. She had always had a kind of straight common sense that never allowed him to get too full of himself, to drift too far inward. During his life, he had had far too many people who accommodated him and who had told him exactly what he wanted to hear. With Marnie, he never had to worry about that. Even when they were at their most passionate and reckless, she had always been willing to throw on the brakes and talk things out.
What a queen she would make, he thought idly, but then he drew away from the thought. There was no way his family would accept a novelist of no background as his wife, even if she was the one who had borne their grandchild.
Thank you again for an amazing day, he typed to her. I really mean that. I've never had another day like it.
There was a long pause, followed by the ellipses that told him that she was typing.
I would like more days like this too.
She had been typing for far longer than those words should have taken. Philip was suddenly intensely curious about what she had typed and then erased.
Philip lay back in bed and wondered what more days with Marnie and Victoria might be like.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Well, I certainly didn't expect it to go like this," Philip mused, looking down at the mess of paint that covered the newspaper.
"It usually doesn't go in any way that you might expect," said Marnie, who had an unaccountably adorable splotch of green paint high on her cheek. "The nice thing is that all of this washes out quite nicely."
Saturday had arrived cold and rainy, with Marnie tired from her publishing work and Victoria cranky from school. Instead of stepping out to see a museum as they had planned, they had opted for a day indoors instead, and of course the art supplies had come out.
If Philip were asked he would have said that there was a limited amount of mess that three people could make with just a few pots of paint and butcher paper. However, logic apparently had nothing on a determined five-year-old who was entirely preoccupied with the idea of involving her mother in every single mark and stroke.
It was a soothing thing to watch, but he hadn't realized that he was only watching until Victoria turned to him.
"You aren't drawing anything at all," she said accusingly.
He looked down at the relatively unmarked paper in front of him. "I suppose I'm not a very good artist," he began, but Victoria only looked stubborn.
"My mama and Cassie say that anyone can be artistic," she said with a pout. "You just need to try. Then you'll do the art that only you can make!"
Philip wasn't sure about that, but the look on Marnie's face was frankly mischievous.
"Oh, well, maybe Philip hasn't had the advantages that you've had, honey …"
Victoria frowned at that as Marnie continued.
"It looks to me like he needs someone to help him," she continued. "Why don't you go help him?"
Victoria brightened at that, and before Philip could figure out what was going on, she had crawled over to lean against his side. To his surprise, Victoria folded her small hand over his, smearing paint on it as she did so.
"Victoria, what are you—?"
He only stared in shock as she took his hand and led it decisively to one of the small pots of paint. He was simply too shocked to do anything but sit there as she dragged his now paint-covered fingers down to the paper in front of him.
"Look, see, now you can do it yourself," she said with all the gravitas of a master painter to a hapless student. "Now you shouldn't worry too much about whether you are good enough!"
"I suppose not," Philip mused. "Marnie, these paints wash out in water, don't they?"
"Sure, I wouldn't get anything for Victoria that was going to stain …"
The words were no sooner out of her mouth before Philip reached over and pressed his palm over her shoulder, leaving a thick blue hand print over the fabric there. As she squawked in outrage, he laughed.
"I call it mixed media," he said to Victoria gravely. "That's what you call it when you use lots of different materials. You see here, I used paint, the fabric from your mother's shirt, and of course, your mother."
Victoria crowed with laughter, and then Philip had to fend off two attacks. On one side was Victoria, gleefully smearing him with the watery paint. On the other side was Marnie, who was largely doing the same thing with an increasingly better degree of success.
As the rain pounded down outside, the three of them stayed warm and dry in the apartment, though certainly by the end, they would have been no more dirty if they had ended up going outside to splash in rain puddles.
When he got up to go get paper towels for cleanup, he paused to look himself in the mirror. He looked a wreck, covered in red, green,
yellow, and blue stains. He looked like some kind of modern art project gone very, very wrong.
And he realized then that he had never been happier. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a man who was exceedingly content to while away his Saturday with a woman and a little girl that he was coming to care for immensely.
Philip knew that he could get a dozen people together to view all of the New York parties, and if America couldn't throw an excellent party, he was prepared to go to the UAE and Navarra to find if they could do one better.
He shook his head, drying his hands. Philip didn't know what the future would bring, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going to look back on this time and smile, no matter what came after it. Outside of the bathroom, he could hear Marnie and Victoria laughing quietly. It didn't occur to him to think that they sounded quite clear until it was far too late.
The door swung open, and revealed behind it were two grins, four hands full of paint, and a laughter that he thought that he would cherish forever.
As they bore him gently to the floor, he started to laugh, and it was one of the most healing moments of his life.
*
For a moment, Marnie wondered if they had gone too far. It was only belatedly that she remembered how very much money Philip's clothes cost, and how attached he was to them. Of course, she thought that right before her cannonball of a daughter struck Philip full force, her small hands pattering all over him to transfer as much color to Philip as she could.
To Marnie's relief, however, Philip only shouted with delight, falling back onto the ground and allowing Victoria to climb all over him.
Marnie wondered all over again what it was her daughter saw in this man. Perhaps she was picking up on the fact that he was someone who was kind and trustworthy, but Marnie didn't think that was it. Sometimes, late at night, she wondered if Victoria suspected that Philip was her father. There was no way that Victoria could know that at all.
Finally, when Victoria had been peeled off of Philip and sent back to her paper and paints, Marnie pulled Philip aside.
