I close the door behind them. “You know, I don’t ever think I’ve seen you this nervous.” I chuckle.
Benjamin’s eyes narrow. “Funny.”
“Let’s go see Dante.”
He’s in the living room in a bouncy chair, playing with one of the dangling toys attached to it.
“Hi, you!” I gasp, reaching down. Wide eyed, the boy blinks up at me with the most gorgeous hazel eyes. I lift him out of the bouncy chair. He kicks his legs, bludgeoning my sides, and I hold my breath while he closely assesses my face. “Hi, Dante, I’m Darcy. This is Benjamin, your godfather. You already know him.”
Dante’s curiosity is all-consuming, which makes him eager to touch. He paws my face with small grazes, and I relax, pleased when he doesn’t cry at the sight of me. Okay, step one.
“We’re going to watch you while your mommy and daddy go out for a little while.”
“I don’t think he’s going to talk back, Darce,” Benjamin jokes behind me.
“Benjamin doesn’t understand us,” I whisper, giggling. “You understand me, right?”
He stares at me, bouncing in my arms. Damn, this kid is strong. He points to his toy on the floor, mumbling, “‘Pant. ‘Pant.”
“Oh, you want your toy?” I ask, setting him down. I settle myself behind him, and amazingly, he leans against me, playing with a stuffed elephant.
Benjamin takes a spot next to me on the floor. “I gave him that toy after he was born.”
“Jasmine told me it’s his favorite. He doesn’t sleep without it.”
“Really?” He nods, staring at Dante. There is pure fear behind his eyes. I know he’s seeing this as if we’re fast forwarding nine months with our own baby…what it will be like.
We spend the next hour on the floor, absorbed in Dante and his strange, unfamiliar quirks. He plays, handing his toys to us every so often, until eventually becoming cranky, and I assume it’s time to feed him. I heave myself off the floor, finding it amusing that Benjamin is following my every move.
“I’ll get it,” he says.
When I have Dante in my arms, he begins to mumble, springing his arms out frantically for Benjamin. Benjamin looks from him to me blankly.
“He wants you to take him.”
Swallowing an uncertain breath, Benjamin reaches forward and takes him from me, cupping Dante’s head gently even though he doesn’t need to. The sight of Benjamin carrying a child is foreign. It’s also overwhelmingly beautiful. I’m immediately breathless, witnessing raw emotion cross Benjamin’s face, and have to retreat to the kitchen to recover from the surging emotions.
I return to the living room with a bottle, screeching to a stop when I come upon Benjamin on the couch, the baby cradled to his chest. He notices my admiring and smiles. I will my feet to work again, walk over, and hand him the bottle.
“What do I do?” he asks when taking it from me.
“Hold it to him. He’ll do the rest.”
Surely enough, small fingers search for the bottle, and Dante finds a good grip on it. Benjamin is much more immersed in him, looking at the baby with curiosity and intrigue. I flick on the television, which is already set to a children’s show, and Dante’s attention is secured.
A few hours later, the front door opens. I manage to sit up when John walks into the room. We’ve already put the baby to bed and also experienced the shrill cry he makes when waking up. I changed his diaper, expecting that would be all.
That was far from the case. It took another hour to get him to lie down in his crib. Every time one of us would think he was calm enough, he’d prove us wrong. It’s nearly eleven, and he just went down for the count.
John grins when he sees us, primarily Benjamin, who hasn’t roused despite the intrusion.
“Tough night?”
“No, no. Dante was really good.”
I touch Benjamin’s leg, and his eyes snap open. He notices John and now Jasmine standing in the threshold to the living room, laughing.
“How was the play?” I ask, rising onto stiff legs.
“It was so amazing. We’d seen it before, but it was even better than we remembered.” Jasmine sets down her purse. “You guys look beat.”
“We’re fine,” Benjamin reassures them, but they’re not fooled. John reaches into his back pocket, removing his wallet.
“Put your wallet away, John,” Benjamin says, offended.
John frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Well, when you have your baby, we’ll return the favor, amigo.”
While John hugs Benjamin, Jasmine locks eyes with me, a knowing smile across her lips. And I feel it.
We’re going to be fine.
***
“We’re home.”
I open my eyes, hearing Benjamin’s whisper in my ear, and unbuckle my seatbelt. As we walk through the parking garage at nearly midnight, he extends his arm, and I walk into him, sleepily latching onto him for warmth. He smells of peppermint and baby powder, which is an oddly satisfying smell. The moment we step into the apartment, we’re shedding our clothes and dropping into the bed without showers.
“Man, I was not prepared,” I say after a few beats of silence.
There is a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I second that.”
“We did well, though.”
“Yeah, we did.”
Remembering my medication sitting on the bathroom sink, I have to pull myself back up out of bed.
“Where are you going?”
“Bathroom,” I whisper, turning off the bedside lamp. I down the pills with a glass of water, eying myself in the mirror with shame. I set the pill bottle down, thinking of the appointment I have in the morning with the doctor. Fear is momentarily paralyzing, the uncertainty of my condition weighing down my thoughts.
I hope I’m okay. I hope the baby will be okay.
I walk back into the room tormented by a sudden downfall to my nerves. My toes are oddly frozen, prompting me to cross the room to find socks. When I find none in my drawer, I resort to Benjamin’s. I choose a pair, slipping them clumsily onto my feet one by one. A small box catches my eye before I close the drawer, particularly the small logo of a pacifier on the top. Hearing Benjamin’s peaceful, rhythmic breathing, I cautiously pick it up and lift the lid.
Inside is a small silver rattle, and attached to the end are the letters B & D.
Benjamin and Darcy.
Shocked, I wonder whether it was a gift to him or something he had made. My question is answered when I peek into the drawer again and find a small jumpsuit with Scott Industries printed by the breast. There are two of them—one in blue, one in pink.
My smile is unstoppable. I carefully replace them in the same place I found them and close the drawer, remaining still to soak in the pleasure of the sight.
Benjamin stirs when I burrow into the covers he’s already folded out for me.
“You okay?” he asks. I mold to his back and wrap an arm around his waist.
“Yes, I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
***
“Again, Darcy. Come again. Come,” Benjamin gasps against the back of my neck, plunging into me from behind. Before the sun had even risen, we both roused out of sleep and gravitated toward each other. It was a silent decision to begin removing each other’s clothing, and we’ve been anything but silent since. Now the sun is peeking into the windows, and we’re drenched in sweat, trembling wildly as we prepare for the second wave of ultimate pleasure.
His hands are firm on my hips, grinding me onto him, pushing himself deep enough to hurt. His tongue is hot against my neck, traveling over the skin concealing my frantic pulse. I’m lost in the building pleasure, sunken into the bedding as he worships my body, his hand under the curve of my jaw. We come together loudly, without reserve, and we’ve hardly got a recovering breath in before he’s pulling me up, spinning me to take my mouth.
He settles onto the bed, and I crawl onto him, dropping my face onto his chest exhaustedly. He sighs
when I drag my hands through his hair.
I lift my chin, tilting back to find his eyes when I’ve recovered. We both smile cheekily.
“Good morning.”
He curves an arm around my waist and flips me onto my back, snaking over me predatorily. He hovers above me, his abdomen scrunching into long, thick lines of muscle. “Fuck, I can’t keep my hands off you.”
Blushing with delight, I give him my lips eagerly, and we devote the few minutes we have left to rough, desperate kisses before he finally has to pull back and climb out of the bed. I make no effort to move, following Benjamin’s movements throughout the room, gloriously nude as he chooses his suit for the day, leaving his garments at the foot of the bed.
I’m married to this man.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m never going to get to work,” he warns without having to meet my gaze to know I’m staring.
“Oh? What are you going to do?” My eyes descend over his chiseled body to his girth, admiring the thick, hard presence between his legs. He could definitely prove his point.
He rounds the bed, slow and calculated to throw my heartrate off the charts, pinning me with a look of lust, with barely restrained desire. My limbs sink into the bed in intimidation. He bends and wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck, urging me to his mouth. My jaw slacks as he tugs on the swollen skin suggestively.
“I’ll fuck you against the shower door.”
I reach out and wrap my hand around his cock, daring him to do more. My stomach flips when his eyes close and his teeth sink into his bottom lip at my healthy grip.
“Then do it,” I dare him.
Always one to rise to a challenge, he heaves me out of bed.
He does good by his vow, devoting his morning to my pleasure. Somewhere along the way his motions soften, his touches becoming sweet caresses. My forehead cools against the glass of the shower, and I’m able to remember a time where we did this, after our first night together. The desire, the need, hasn’t changed under the confines of marriage. In fact, it’s thrived.
We’ve found a high ground, one we can love each other freely upon.
One that succeeds partnership and melds our souls into one.
***
My nerves are shot by the time Doctor Trigiani enters her office, her hands grasping her clipboard. The clipboard with my information, my test results. My flustered brain made me late to the appointment, so I’ve had to wait in her office for her to finish up with another patient.
“Darcy, it’s a pleasure to see you again. How are you feeling? You’re looking pale.”
“I’m okay,” I say, wringing my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“It’s quite all right. Now tell me, how has the morning sickness been? Have the nausea meds helped?”
“I’ve been sick a lot less.”
“Good…good. And strength? Still weak? Fatigued? Dizzy?”
I want to lie, but I know she’ll see past it. “It comes and goes. I’ve been taking the pills religiously, and have changed my diet.”
Her phone rings on her desk, and she apologizes to me, answering it briskly. “I’m with a patient.” Someone speaks to her on the other end, and she nods. “By all means, Stacey.”
She’s barely put the phone back into the receiver when the door opens and her assistant enters, holding the door open for someone else. My heart lurches to a complete stop.
“B-Ben,” I choke out as my husband enters the office, instantly taking all the available air in the small room. His forehead is creased, his mouth set firmly into a line. He’s not happy, and rightly so. I realize how badly I’ve fucked up. I’m rising out of my chair, caught up in my own panic.
“Your doctor was worried you hadn’t made it. She called me about your appointment twenty minutes ago,” he divulges crossly. He flattens his hand against my spine, urging me to sit. I do it without question.
“Mr. Scott, I’m glad you could make it. Support is necessary with instances such as this.”
Oh, Christ. I’m about to be killed.
Ben doesn’t comment, probably too confused to understand her wording. I’m eying the door, contemplating a diversion to escape.
“Severe anemia is pretty rare, usually 1 in 100 pregnancies. Your wife is going to need rest, especially going into the second and third trimester.”
Benjamin sits forward, and my blood flow ceases altogether. “I’m sorry? Severe anemia?”
The doctor regards us in confusion. “Yes, Mr. Scott. Your wife is anemic.”
Fuck.
Dr. Trigiani’s eyes flicker to mine in disappointment.
“What is that exactly?” Benjamin presses.
“Her red blood cells have deteriorated. It’s a condition in which you don’t have enough healthy red blood cells to carry adequate oxygen to the body’s tissues. Your wife’s case is severe, although the transfusion brought her hemoglobin up to 7.4. Still low, but better, which means after I perform your vitals, Darcy, you may be even higher since you have been taking the medications.”
My heart takes a pitfall.
“How dangerous is her condition?” he asks after a moment.
Doctor Trigiani glances briefly at me and then back at Benjamin, gaping for a moment in hesitation. “This is a high-risk pregnancy.”
“What is high risk, Doctor?”
“Ben,” I whisper, “I—”
“No,” he pins me a look so full of betrayal that I shut up immediately. “Doctor?”
“It means precautions are necessary to ensure a healthy pregnancy and labor. It also means knowing the dangers, despite how rare it is to have things go south.”
“Could my wife die from this?”
She gapes slightly because it’s impossible to not be intimidated by him, especially when he’s bristling. “In anemia cases, there’s a greater chance for miscarriage rather than death of a mother. However, it’s important you know the facts going into this. Anemia doubles the chance of death in pregnancy, because the body isn’t receiving the proper nutrients, let alone proper oxygen to sustain two human beings. It’s extremely rare, Mr. Scott, and we are monitoring your wife’s pregnancy closely.”
His hand has bunched into a fist in his lap. “You just said you had to perform more tests.”
“Because we don’t know what’s causing the anemia yet. It’s usually due to loss of blood, but she’s not losing any. It’s most likely a medical condition in her case. We will be scheduling tests, and we will find out what it is.”
“Fucking hell, Darcy,” he growls, snapping back in his seat. He covers his mouth and stares at me, speechless.
The doctor stands. “I’ll give you two some time.”
As soon as the door is closed, he’s up fast as lightning and doesn’t stop until he’s by the window. His arms are laced in front of his chest, his back rigid.
“Benjamin, I can explain.”
“You kept this from me.”
“Ben, I’m sorry, I—”
“You lied. You lied straight to my face. Went behind my back and—”
“I was going to tell you.”
He turns on me, seething. “When? Before you went into labor?”
“No, I was going to wait until I knew what was wrong. I didn’t want to worry you! I knew you wouldn’t warm to the pregnancy if I told you. I knew you didn’t even want this so I had to make a choice.”
“Don’t turn this on me. Don’t you dare, Darcy!” he bellows, and I blanch. “This was your choice, your secret! Fuck, I even asked you what those pills were for, and you chose not to tell me. Your goddamn life is at risk, and I’ve been playing along to the charade you’ve made this into!”
“Charade? Are you kidding? Benjamin, I should have told you, I know that. But you have to understand why I hid it!”
“You still want to go through with this? Even though it could mean your death? The baby’s death?”
I gape at him, tears rushing to my eyes. “What is the fucki
ng alternative, Benjamin?”
He doesn’t dare voice it. I rush to my feet, gripping his arms. He shoves my hands away and clears a safe distance from me. He falls so quiet it becomes terrifying.
“It’s strange,” he finally says. “The anger I feel right now somehow outweighs the embarrassment of our doctor thinking you have to hide shit from me. You knew this appointment was today. I spent half the morning inside of you and never once did you think it would be nice to tell me about the appointment.”
“It’s not that bad, Ben. She said I’m improving. You heard her.”
“I also heard her say she has no clue as to why you are sick. All I know is that you weren’t before you got pregnant, and that is not comforting to me.”
“It’s a risk. I know that…”
“You could die, Darcy. I could lose you.”
I chuckle wryly. “Of course that’s what you took out of that conversation. See? This is exactly why I wanted to wait! So you wouldn’t overreact!”
“Overreact? Are you fucking crazy? Darcy, you are hearing what you want to hear. I am hearing the reality.”
“I’m pregnant, Benjamin. That is our reality, and you know it. I know you feel betrayed by me, and you have every right to be angry. I never wanted you to find out this way, but I am sure I can do this. I need you to be in this with me.”
“Really? You’ve been doing just fine without me,” he snaps lividly. I shake my head despairingly as he bounds to the door and throws it open. The lobby is full and attentive to the commotion as I follow him out. Our doctor is by the reception desk, her eyes following my fuming husband storming out of the clinic.
“Ben, stop!” I’m crying now. I’ve done this to myself, and that makes the tears worse. “Ben, please.”
He doesn’t stop. He pushes the front door open, taking his keys out of his jacket.
“Please, Ben. Don’t do this.”
Flashes suddenly light up the sidewalk, paparazzi lined up, having prepared for our exit. Someone must have tipped them off after seeing Benjamin come in. Benjamin’s grip is excruciating on my arm as he ushers me to the car on the curb, a ticket sticking out from under the windshield wiper. He snatches it off, his face masked with impassiveness for the cameras. I climb in, eyes on my lap.
Possessed By You (The Consumed Series Book 3) Page 9
