by Frost, E J
I rub my hand over my sweat-tacky face. The morning’s rain has burned off and it’s getting hot and sticky again. I take another draw on my beer to cool down before I continue, “Emily told me once that she’d stopped loving her husband after the divorce, but even years later, she still feels betrayed. I didn’t really understand it then, but I do now. When I look at you, all I can think about is how you lied to me for months. All those times you let me have sex with you without a condom. Knowing I could get you pregnant. Knowing it was a hard limit for me while you were married to Colin. That’s consent-violation. It’s rape, Mir. I don’t understand how anyone could do that to someone they profess to love. All I can think is that your desire for a baby was stronger than any feeling you had for me.”
I glance over at her. She’s kneeling on the couch, hands on her belly, two shiny lines running down her face. Unlike Emily, who turns beet-red and swells like an adorable little balloon when she cries, Miranda cries without even turning pink.
“Sorry,” I say, although I’m not. I’m actually proud of myself for getting all of that out without exploding. “You know where the bathroom is if you want a tissue. I didn’t want to get into this. There’s no point. Let’s just drop it and watch the match.”
She touches the backs of her fingers to her cheeks to blot away the moisture. She doesn’t sniffle.
“I made a mistake not talking with you about it,” she says softly. “About how much it had come to matter to me.”
“Talking wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“But it can change things now.” She holds her hand out towards me. I shift slightly away from her and she lets it drop back to her belly. “Lo, I know what the test is going to show. My marriage to Colin is over. But we don’t have to be over. This could be our second chance.”
My jaw tightens until my teeth creak. “We’re very over. I couldn’t ever trust you again. I don’t know how you think I could.”
“I’ve made mistakes before. You punished me and the slate was wiped clean. That’s what you always said. I know it’s not safe when I’m pregnant, but after the baby’s born—”
I rub my free hand over my eyes, trying to lessen the ache that’s building. “You’re missing the point. I can’t be your master again because I don’t trust you. I won’t ever trust you again, Mir.”
“You don’t mean that,” she says.
“Yes, I do.” I shift my shoulders and settled deeper into the cushions. “You said you were going to take a nap. Bed’s made up in the guest bedroom if you want to stretch out.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine here.”
I nod and focus on the cricket. I’m aware of her moving around. When I ignore her, she settles onto her side, with her head on the cushion, arms crossed over her belly.
I don’t know if she actually sleeps, but I do. My eyelids get heavier and heavier as India continues to rack up the runs and the sun beats down through the windows and open French doors, shooting the temperature back up into the nineties. The beer relaxes me even more than the heat. I’m dimly aware of Emily’s cat coming to curl up like a miniature nuclear reactor on my chest, but I’m too sleepy to even shoo his hot little body off me.
The crack of the front door wakes me and I sit up groggily, dislodging the damn cat, feeling the pull run from my lower back down my left leg. Beside me, Miranda sits up, too. She tosses her hair back, and, looking straight at Emily, very deliberately licks the corner of her mouth.
“Mmm,” she says. “That’s better. I feel so refreshed.”
Lizbeth, following a step behind Emily, turns fire-engine red. She pushes past Emily, dropping the shopping bag she’s carrying, and leveling her finger at Miranda. “You fucking skank!”
Knowing my sister’s explosive temper all too well, I grab the back of the couch and throw myself over it, thankfully landing on my right leg. I intercept Lizbeth as she’s charging at Miranda.
She kicks as I lift her off her feet, grabbing my shoulder, and bellowing, “You have to keep trying to ruin my brother’s life, don’t you? Go back to Skankland! No one wants you here!”
I wrap one arm around Lizbeth’s middle, the other around her back, and bulldoze her out of the room. “Emily,” I call. “Come.”
I hear the patter of her feet as she follows across the hallway and into my office.
“Shut the door,” I tell Emily and wait until I hear the door close before I release my sister. “Emily, get your headphones and plug them into your phone. Put on the white noise playlist and put your headphones on.”
Eyes wide, Emily follows my instructions to the letter, while I lean back against my desk, cross my arms over my chest, and glare at my little sister.
She mimics my posture, glaring right back.
Emily settles the headphones over her ears and looks at me uncertainly. I point at the floor at my feet with two fingers.
Crimson floods her cheeks and she glances at Lizbeth. I feel every muscle tighten at even that second of hesitation before she submits. Her eyes flicker, then she lowers them, takes the few steps to me, and sinks onto her knees.
“Skank?” I ask my sister.
Lizbeth lifts her hands. “It’s the girls’ new word.”
“And you decided to throw it at Miranda? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Her hands drop to her hips, and she leans forward like she does when she scolds the twins. My little sister’s become such a banty hen. “I can’t take another second of her. She was acting like you’d just—”
“I know what she was doing, Lizzy. I’m not an idiot. I also know that absolutely nothing happened between her and me.”
Lizbeth harrumphs, and she sounds so much like our great-uncle Finlay that I break down and laugh.
“This isn’t funny.” She shakes her head at me.
“You sounded just like Finlay then. Remember him? We used to call him Uncle Walrus?”
“Yeah, I remember. He had those huge gray whiskers.”
“That’s right. He’d make that noise any time Mum made him a cuppa. He said it wasn’t just weak, it was a fortnight. Remember?”
“Yes, okay, I remember. It’s not funny.” But she smiles.
“Look, this whole thing is fucked, Lizzy. I’ve got to laugh about it or I’d be breaking shit.”
“Fine.” Her hands go back to her hips. “But don’t let Miranda screw things up between you and Emily. You may not see it, but she dies a little inside every time Miranda touches you. This is hurting her, Lo. I mean it.”
I have seen it. That’s another reason why I’ve made my physical boundaries very clear.
“I hear you. It’s one more day, Lizzy. One day and then she’s gone, and Emily and I can get back to normal.”
“One day that could fuck up things irreparably.”
“I’m not going to let Mir fuck things up between me and Emily. I know what I have in Emily. She’s the one. I’m not letting her go.”
Lizbeth stares at me, open mouthed.
“You’ve never said that before. All the girls you’ve brought home, you’ve never said that.”
I settle my hand on top of Emily’s head, connecting to my baby doll. She lifts her head slightly so I can see her face, and after smiling at me, her eyes slowly close. I hope she’s sinking into a peaceful place.
“I’m saying it now,” I tell Lizbeth.
“So, this, this is serious?”
“Absolutely.”
Lizbeth tips her head to the side and gives me her patented mother hen glare again. “How serious?”
“Very. I don’t think she wants to be married again, but if she does, I’ll happily marry her.”
“Why doesn’t she want to be married again?”
I guess Emily hasn’t shared with my sister. “She’s been burned. Her first husband cheated on her. She divorced him.”
“That’s bullshit. You’d never cheat on her. Oh, fuck.” She throws up her hands. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to have some crazy-ass
open relationship?”
“No. I told you, Emily’s the one. There’s no one else.”
“Swear to me you won’t even think about patching things up with Skanky out there.”
I shake my head at her. “Listen to you. Mum would’ve had your hide for your language, Elizabeth Logan O’Donnell.”
“Fuck you, James Madison Logan. Swear it to me.”
“I swear.” I hold up my hands. “I couldn’t ever trust Miranda again, and even if I did, I don’t want anyone but Emily.”
“Good. Then I’ll work on her. A Christmas wedding sounds perfect.”
“If I get one hint that you’re badgering Emily about marrying me, I’ll have your hide.” Lizbeth snorts, as little afraid of my threats as she was when we were kids. “I’m serious, Lizzy, butt out.”
“Eat my butt, big brother. If you can’t convince her to marry you, I will. Once Emily’s flashed Mum’s diamond at her, that’ll be the end of Skanky’s eyelash-fluttering and look-at-my-pregnancy-tits.”
“Your mouth, I swear. I need to have a word with Luke. Maybe loan him a gag.”
“Try it. I’ll volunteer your house for every birthday party the girls have from now until they’re twenty.”
She has me there. I’ve been to one of the twins’ birthday parties and swore I’d never even set foot in the state during another one. “Damn, that’s mean.”
“You ain’t seen nothing. I’m the mother of two pre-teens. You have no idea how low I can go. When are you going to ask her?”
“Chrissake, give me a chance. We’ve been dating for two months.”
“Luke asked me after he’d known me less than a week—"
“You two were nine, Lizbeth.”
“Spare me your excuses, lame-ass. Get Mum’s diamond out of the safety deposit box or wherever you have it squirreled away and get down on your knee.” She cuts her eyes at Emily. “Or, um—”
“Stay out of it. This is what we both need right now.” I stroke Emily’s hair and gently push her cheek against my thigh. She cuddles in until she’s pressed against my leg from hip to ankle. That’s better. “Can you go back out there and behave yourself?”
Lizbeth grimaces. “Truthfully? Probably not. But I’ve got to get going anyway. Traffic up was brutal. I’ll bring the girls up next week, once they’re finished camp. We’ll talk over the weekend and fix a day, okay?”
“Sounds good.” I hold out my free arm and give her a hug when she steps to me, which she returns. “You mind seeing yourself out? I need to talk to Emily.”
“No problem. I’ll give the girls Uncle Lolo’s love.”
“Lizzy, if you keep letting them call me that—”
She snorts. “They’ll call you whatever they want. I’m raising strong, independent women, you caveman.” She cuts her eyes at Emily again. “Be careful, Lo. She wasn’t herself today. We both know why.”
Yeah, I know why. “Drive safely, little sis.”
She punches my shoulder. “See you next week.”
I wait until the door closes behind her before I lift Emily’s headphones off and lay them on the desk. She doesn’t raise her head and I go back to stroking her hair, both to reward her submission and because it’s keeping me calm. “You’re in High Protocol for the rest of the day, little girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Did you buy anything? You may elaborate.”
“No, Daddy. I didn’t see anything I wanted. Lizbeth found a couple of bargains and Daisy got a dress she’s going to wear to Rick’s party.”
“Mm-hmm. Do you have any questions about what you saw when you walked in?”
She’s silent for a long moment, her shoulders hunching slightly.
“No, Daddy.”
“No?”
“No, Daddy,” she says more firmly.
“Good girl. What’s the most important thing between us? You may elaborate.”
“Trust and respect, Daddy.”
I wait to see if she’ll say more and when she doesn’t, I affirm. “That’s right, little love. Trust and respect. Can you stay focused on that for the rest of Miranda’s stay? I know she’s not making it easy.”
She’s silent again. I slide my hand under her chin and tip her head up so I can see her eyes. Definitely a shadow there.
“Tell me, Emmy. You may elaborate.”
Emily’s eyes slide away from mine.
“No, look at me.”
She meets my eyes again, reluctantly, as pink rises into her cheeks and nose, wetness to her eyes. Her expression shades to misery. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispers.
“For what? You may elaborate.”
“I’m jealous.” Her chin trembles and it all pours out. “I know I shouldn’t be, Daddy. It’s just that she got to spend the afternoon with you while I had to go shopping with Daisy and Lizbeth and I know they were just trying to help, but I didn’t like leaving her here with you and I couldn’t enjoy the shopping because the whole time I was wondering what she was doing and I know that’s not being the bigger person and I’m sorry!” She finishes on a wail.
Oh, my sweet girl.
“Sh.” I soothe her. “Come. Crawl. Hands and knees.”
I walk over to the couch against the wall behind her writing desk, moving slowly so she can crawl beside me. Seeing her on her hands and knees, crawling because pleasing me matters more than her dignity, soothes every hurt.
I sit on the couch and beckon her up into my lap. I have her straddle my legs and pull her against my chest, tucking her head into my neck. She calls this our “koala-baby” position, and I cuddle my koala baby close.
“I would always prefer to spend time with you,” I whisper to her, pressing my lips against her temple while I rub her back. “I miss you every second you’re not with me. Being without you this afternoon was miserable. Miranda just wanted to claw at me. I ended up watching test cricket until I fell asleep. I missed my beanie blanket. Even while I was sleeping, I missed you.”
She gives a wordless little whimper, pressing her mouth against my throat.
“Daddy’s here, baby girl.” I squeeze her tightly against me, imprinting the softness of her breasts and the harder surfaces of ribs and hips onto my corresponding spaces. Melding us together through our separate skins. Here, like this, we’re one. Daddy and little. Dom and sub. Top and bottom.
I hold her for a long time, letting my hands roam over her, rubbing her shoulders and back, cupping her bottom. Soothing but also reminding her of who we are to each other. Neither of us speak. We don’t need to. We just need the reassurance of one another, and until that reassurance is lodged deep, I don’t let her go.
Finally, I turn my head so I can kiss her forehead. “Do you need to finish making dinner?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“When I let you go, you’ll finish dinner. Then you’ll go upstairs, brush your hair and teeth, put on your white ruffled stockings, white knickers and a white bra, and come back to me. You do not need permission to leave my presence for either of those two things, but for the rest of the night, you do. I’m not going to plug you tonight because I know your bottom is sore. What do you say? You may elaborate.”
She shivers against me, her hands tightening on the back of my neck. “Thank you, Daddy. Ta very much.”
“Yes, that’s my polite girl. If I catch your mind wandering, I’ll send you for Stanley and plug you right there, so keep your mind on me. I don’t care what Miranda or anyone else says or does. You’ll watch me, keep your mind on me, listen to me, and above all, serve me. Who do you belong to, little girl? You may elaborate.”
“You, Daddy. Every inch of me.”
“That’s right. I may direct you to serve our other guests, but not Miranda. If she says something to you, you ignore her. If she asks you for something, you ignore her. If she throws her bloody tonic water all over you, you ignore her. I’ll deal with her. I’m the only person you pay attention to tonight. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Any questions?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Good girl. You’re my angel, Emily. And your submission right now is keeping me sane.” I kiss her forehead. “I know you were embarrassed when I made you kneel in front of Lizbeth. I saw you hesitate, and I will correct you for that tomorrow after Miranda leaves, but I know we’ve been mostly vanilla in front of Lizbeth, so I’m not mad at you. But it’s always my choice how much of your submission to show to others, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her voice is tiny, barely more than a coo. My baby girl.
“Tonight, you won’t hesitate because you won’t be thinking about anything but me. Whatever I ask you to do, you will do it immediately. It doesn’t matter what it is, or who’s watching, or what they say. You’re mine. You belong to me. I’m all you see, hear, feel. Nothing matters to you but me tonight. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“That’s my very good girl. I love you, sweetheart.”
She sighs happily but doesn’t break High Protocol to respond. My angel.
“Count backwards with me and I’m going to let you go.” I need the count to prepare; it’s hard to let my koala baby go right now. “Five.”
She echoes me and we count down to one. I give her a final kiss on the forehead, then let her slide off my lap onto the floor. She kneels until I stand, waiting for direction. I wave her to her feet and gesture towards the kitchen.
Grudging each step, I go back to the living room to deal with Miranda.
* * *
Dinner’s ready, Emily’s adorably sexy in her white lingerie, and I’m playing the good host by not throttling Miranda, when the rest of our guests arrive. They come together, probably in Javier’s car. I greet them at the door, with Emily kneeling beside me, and Miranda tucked out of the way on the couch, nursing her tonic water.
Javier’s dressed as casually as I’ve ever seen him, in a short-sleeved shirt and linen pants. I guess he’s feeling the heat, too, or he remembers that my house doesn’t have central air. He has Maude, cool and elegant in a fuchsia, silk sheath-dress, on his elbow. There’s another linked couple behind them: Austin’s immediately recognizable because of his height and smooth, bald head. He towers over the woman he’s escorting. I recognize her after a second, despite the lack of stilettos and leather. In a soft, flowered sundress, no makeup, and flat gladiator sandals, Dana looks barely old enough to drink.
