He’s here, somewhere.
His computer is open on the coffee table, along with a notepad and pen.
Noticing it’s not the usual work figures and graphs I’m used to seeing, I peek at the tab title, freezing when I notice the M.D. marking. Multiple tabs are still open, medical sites explaining severe cases of anemia, what the causes in pregnancy could be, how to conceive a healthy baby with a chronic disease.
Shell-shocked, I dare to grab the notepad, reading his elegant scribbling…a checklist of necessary precautions, reminders to call a doctor. Tidbits he’s taken from real life stories, some hopeful, some frightening.
I wish I could have told him not to look. It only makes it worse.
At the sight of the cracked-open French doors leading out onto the balcony, I suppose I’ve located him. It groans and squeaks at the same time, alerting him of my presence. In a robe that matches my own, he tilts his head enough to see me.
The sky is painted colorfully. Upon the horizon are yellows and oranges, gradually transforming into a soft baby blue, an indication of a perfect day. His eyes follow me as I step to the edge of the balcony and lean into the brick.
“You’re up early.”
“Mm, couldn’t sleep.”
I stretch my arms out along the railing. Despite the dark eyes that indicate lack of sleep, he’s magnificent in the new morning light. Dawn compliments him. He’s lost weight in the past weeks, which is probably the only reason the robe fits him.
I never tell Benjamin how much I love seeing him right out of bed. The mussed hair, the slimness of his eyes, his taut mouth. He clearly wrapped the robe around himself simply to be presentable around the surrounding balconies. It hangs open halfway down his chest, tied loosely at the waist.
It’s too chilly to be out here without it.
“Why are you up?” I ask him.
“I’ve been remembering.”
“Remembering what?”
“A lot. What my life was like a few years ago.”
“When you were the king of bachelors?”
He smirks. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
He nods. “I keep thinking of that day, the one you brought up when you told me you were pregnant.”
“The night we first slept together.”
“Yeah.”
“What about it?”
“I went into that bed expecting to come out of it with some pleasure, an inevitable release of the strange hold you had on me until that point. Instead, I came out of it blind in love.” He shakes his head. “I told you that I didn’t love you then, when we fought over the baby, but I’m realizing that’s not even true. I did.”
“I…didn’t know that.”
“You were just someone, a beautiful woman who could hold her own and wouldn’t take my shit. I liked that about you. But it was the marks, the scars along your back, and your hesitance to show them to me that made it impossible to compare you to any of the others.”
I’m rosy pink by the compliments, by his candor. I tilt my head, wondering why he’s telling me this. Sensing the chill that runs through me, he holds out his arm for me to join him.
“The stitches…” I remind him.
He makes a face. “Oh, come on. They’re fine.”
I lower onto him, lifting my knees to find a comfortable place on his lap. He offers his coffee mug to me. The steamy ceramic feels great against my cold hands.
“Is there anything you miss? Of that time?”
“My doorman would wake me then, Darcy.” He kisses my shoulder, pushing back my hair. “To calls, and figures, and business. Now I get a smile. Blue eyes. These hands. A warm body to invite me near. I don’t miss a damn thing.”
Christ, I can’t take him being this agreeable, this affectionate, this early in the morning. It’s going to send me into overdrive. I set down the coffee mug on a small patio table and find better use for my hands—buried in his hair.
“You’re my husband,” I point out simply.
That time he’s talking about, I couldn’t even dream of uttering those words to him. He would have fled into the night at the mere thought. Benjamin’s eyes now don’t even falter in the slightest at the mention.
He traces the line of my throat lightly. “You’re my wife.”
“You’ll never have to be that man again.”
He nods. “No. A husband, yes. A father…”
My heart begins to slow, its beats strengthening with anticipation and hope. “A father? Wait, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying…no more birth control. No more condoms.” He clasps my face, searching my bewildered expression. “I’m saying we throw out caution and see what happens.”
Holy shit.
“You want that?”
“It will be hard. I will not go easy on you. Your safety will matter above all.”
I nod, finding it hard not to beam from ear to ear. It’s hard to believe. “You really mean it? You want this?”
“Yes.”
My mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Benjamin…”
“You’ll need to bear with me. My fears haven’t dissipated overnight. I have no rulebook to go by.”
“We’ll make our own.”
“I’ve prided myself on being able to give you the world. I refuse to deny you the only thing you’ve ever asked for.”
An unspoken promise in the air hangs the longer we’re still, embedding the decision deep into our marrow. I’m unsure as to his thoughts, other than what he’s showing me. True to the man I fell for, his eyes show mostly decision, a resolution that he’s found a way to understand and accept.
My thoughts are on the secret moments he shared with his sister when he thought I was out of earshot. The confessions he spoke to her, his reluctance to attempt to conceive again. Remembering the way he broke down beside her reminds me how monumental this change of heart, or rather change of mind, is.
He holds me like I were the world.
He’s injured; my body is weak.
It doesn’t matter.
“Come to bed with me,” he whispers.
When I roll onto the tips of my toes, extending my arm for him, I’ve given my answer. We enter the luxurious suite, deciding a path of life.
We disrobe on our way into the bedroom. When we clear the door and I’m twisting, a nervous pit in my belly, I’m captured by hands that grasp me like they lack the ability to let go.
There’s nothing in his movements, in the noises he makes, that suggest he’s rethinking anything. Our usual push and pull is present, and when he brings me onto the bed, careful of our current fragility, I hardly recall the feeling I had that made me not want this.
His weight settles onto me, the pressure sinking me into the mattress, and my air is gone. He’s going to take this slow. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in his caresses.
This is a moment we make as adults. As people who see a future and chase it.
In this moment, we’re not only married. We’re partners, on the same wavelength.
As he sinks into me, both of us aware we lack protection, I vow silently to do my best. I vow to give him a child, to give him the life he was denied.
Our children will never know poverty, something I know a great deal about. But they will be abundant in love…something we both lack experience with. It will heal us in a way nothing can, I’m sure of it.
And I vow that I will love them both from the depths of my soul.
Lost in London, as the sun rises over the surfaces of the bedroom, we pledge life to one another, setting a steady course.
***
Benjamin’s smile widens as I pore over the plaque inside of Jane Austen’s home, my favorite author, glancing at him to see if he’s making fun of my enthusiasm. He purchased a gift for me two Christmases ago, before our lives fell into disrepair, my favorite novel by her. I’m soaking in the chance we’ve gotten to explore my heroine’s home.
I
feel the majesty here. It’s a bibliophile’s dream.
There’s a steady flow of visitors, quiet people who marvel as much as I do. Benjamin stands out like a sore thumb, holding my jacket over his forearm…Dimitri even more so. Mostly women are in the room, none of whom can tear their eyes off my husband, who could have fallen right out of one of Austen’s novels.
I don’t blame them for staring.
“I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe she was here. She wrote Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice here. Masterpieces,” I muse, extending my arms to accentuate the gravity of the situation.
“Your Mr. Darcy.” Benjamin hums and then twists in place, extending his hand out to Dimitri, a cue for something. Peeking around the looming frame of my husband, I catch Dimitri’s hand disappear into his thick coat. He pulls out a book.
He hands Benjamin my copy of Pride and Prejudice, the first edition he purchased for me years ago when our future seemed so uncertain. He sets the hardcover into my palms.
“Now you can set it down. A first edition, right here where she wrote it.”
A number of women who were eavesdropping make loud, disbelieving noises at my husband’s words. They come up beside me, asking to see the copy, worshipping the man before me like Mr. Darcy himself.
I bask in my pride to be married to such a man, who tells Dimitri to remain calm despite the swarming women.
“You are a lucky woman.”
“The luckiest.”
When asked, I show them the printer’s date, the proof of edition, and they collectively attach themselves to my splendor.
“Well, do what he says,” one of them says, grinning. “Set it down.”
We go silent, like true faithful fans, staring at the object like it will levitate any minute. This goes way past bucket list dreams.
After a few seconds, we disperse to allow others into the room. Hearing the women’s goodbyes, I take the book and spin into Benjamin, laughing, hopping with glee.
I tighten my arms around his neck, more grateful than I can say. “Thank you, Benjamin.”
CHAPTER TEN
New York is famous for diners. Greasy, dirty diners.
It’s a rare day when I can get Benjamin to enter one. However, today is an important day. We’ve pulled three tables together to accommodate the guests. Benjamin suggested somewhere nicer, but Kevin insisted on this place, swearing it had some special power.
It was the place Doug and he came to after the club the night they met.
On Doug’s hand rests a gold ring—an engagement band, one Kevin just put on him in Central Park, before bringing him to this place to celebrate with his friends and family. Some people I know, like Kevin’s parents. Some I don’t. Marilyn, my eccentric friend, hasn’t changed and has brought along a date none of us have met before. Beside Kevin sits Doris, who is admiring the lovely sight of a table full of smiles.
I’ve been doing the same thing.
Benjamin is talking to Kevin, informing him of venues, insisting on paying for whatever they can’t afford. Knowing Benjamin, I’m sure he fully intends to pay for the entire wedding. Kevin is both appalled and touched, as am I. Everyone is talking over each other, and no one gets tired of it.
Kevin is still arguing when Benjamin pierces me with his soft green eyes. “Get your friend to agree, all right? Help me here.”
“It’s crazy! A wedding costs a fortune!”
Kevin’s father, a man who is Latin to the bone, sticks out his chin pointedly toward Benjamin. “The family must pay for the wedding. No exceptions.”
They don’t have the money. I know it, Benjamin knows it, and Kevin knows it.
Benjamin holds up his hands, a true negotiator. “All right. I can respect that. However, there’s no problem with us paying for the reception. It could be a wedding gift, right, Darcy?”
I smile secretively, shrugging my shoulders to my best friend, who is looking upon us both in shock. “I don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer.”
Kevin glances at his father, who is squinting at my husband. “Dad?”
Salvador nods, wagging his index finger at Benjamin. “I pay the wedding. You do the reception.”
“Done,” Benjamin says triumphantly, finally leaning back in his seat.
Doug is just as bewildered as me and everyone else at the table.
“Did that just happen?” Kevin asks, beaming ear to ear. He looks between us. “Thank you both. I really don’t know what to say.”
“It’s Benjamin,” I laugh. Everyone at this table knows damn well I’m not the one making millions.
“It’s from both of us. You’ve always been a great friend to Darcy.”
Doris leans toward the lovers, wanting to hear more about the sunset proposal.
Benjamin turns his attention to me, chastising without malice. “We talked about this. We agreed—”
“Yes, but I’m contributing little here, let’s be honest.” He lifts my hand, pressing his mouth to my diamond and the wedding band.
“What’s mine is yours, Darcy.”
“Benjamin!” Marilyn exclaims, waving to get his attention from the other side of the table. “Come over here! I want you to meet someone!”
I smirk, leaning close. “She thinks her boyfriend of the month will be an asset to Scott Industries.”
Thankfully, he looks amused, setting down his napkin. “Is he?”
“He’s only ever been an intern.”
Benjamin laughs, rising to his feet. “Wonderful.”
I watch him go to appease my friend, admiring the way they look at him. It’s taken years, but in that time, he’s gained their respect. They expect, and like, when we’re together.
It’s been six months since London. Six months of taking pregnancy tests, of getting my health back in order. Each month has been a negative, and I convinced myself it’s my health.
Once it’s regulated, then the chance will come.
We will succeed.
It’s hard to dwell on the lack of the addition we’re trying to achieve when for the first time, we’re leading a completely normal life. Well…normal for us. We’re working. We’re laughing, fucking, and fighting—we wouldn’t be us without that.
We’re constant newlyweds.
Doris sits down in Benjamin’s vacant chair, tearing me out of my reflections. She squeezes my hand.
“I read recently that if you do the deed on a full moon—”
To spare us both the uncomfortable aftermath of pregnancy superstitions, I stop her, shaking my head. “Oh, please no.”
“It’s just something I read. I might work.”
I’m the shade of a fire hydrant. “I’ll keep it in mind. We’re really just taking it slow. There’s no rush.”
“You saw the doctor yesterday, right?”
“Yes. My health is better, which is worrisome because it definitely means it’s pregnancy that starts the decline. They thought it was a sickle cell trait at first since my father was of Italian descent, but the test came back negative. They have no explanation why my immune system was struggling so much.”
“There has to be something they know.”
“She mentioned that I might have an incompetent uterus, which would weaken me in pregnancy, but it doesn’t explain the loss of blood cells. She just mentioned the risks again, that we’d have to take this as cautiously as possible if we truly want children. Any outcome is possible.”
“I don’t like this talk,” she sighs, refusing to hear it. “You’re fine. You’ll be fine.”
“I know I will,” I say. “It’s not me that needs convincing.”
Her eyes gravitate to my husband, who is deep in conversation with Marilyn, a woman who has adored him from the start. She was always pulling for us.
“How is he handling all this inconsistency?”
“He absorbs it mostly, doesn’t say much, but I can see it scares him when he thinks about it too much.”
“Benjamin with a baby…that
would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it?”
I long to see that sight. I lose myself in his movements, his smile. “Mmm.”
“It feels like just yesterday I was interviewing you for the position.”
The flashbacks that hit me are cringeworthy. “I fell over myself when I laid eyes on him. I was a goner. Been so ever since.”
“For him too. He’s married now, trying for kids. God, there was a time if I had heard myself saying that, I would have thought I’d started to lose my marbles. It’s amazing what a good woman can do for a lost man.”
“And what a good marriage can do for two lost people,” I add, unable to look away from him.
***
Good sex is therapeutic. Great sex is straight healing.
A lot of it and your nerves are sensitive, your mind is awake, senses heightened.
It’s mid-day, smack dab in the middle of a work week. Benjamin’s briefcase is on the floor by the door, having fallen off the side table in the process of the hasty removal of his clothing. Articles of his suit are scattered across the floor, my dress and lingerie mixed in the mess of dark colors.
Snow is falling fast outside the window in an almost horizontal downpour, the last of winter coming down with all its might. It’s almost below freezing outside, but we’re unable to feel any of the chill.
His hands are like fire, his fingertips scalding hot as he traces them over my body. We’re facing each other on the massive mattress, tangled limbs in the middle. His cock is inside of me, as it has been for a good portion of this snow day we’ve taken for ourselves.
His palm urges my ass into him, pushing and pulling me in slow, unrhythmic movements. No gracefulness, no urgency. We’re fucking simply to be within each other. My hands scale his damp skin, up into his hair, the dark wet spirals at the end that are so comforting to grab on to.
For the fifth time, his phone blares, a distant call from the living room where he left it.
And for fifth time, it goes straight to voicemail.
His lips are pushing into mine, his tongue driving between them, curling and sucking me in. It’s enough to make someone incoherent. My thigh is wrapped around his waist, my chest up against his chest. When his touch trails from my backside, taking the slope of my spine to my neck, which he grasps tight enough to keep me in place, ultimate protection sweeps through my skin, my blood, and bones.
Possessed By You (The Consumed Series Book 3) Page 17
