by Ranae Rose
By the time the bathroom door creaked open, he felt a sense of calm he’d rarely known the likes of. Waiting for her to tell him whether their futures had been irrevocably changed, he was fearless.
One slim, white leg appeared, accompanied by a shoulder draped with a stray lock of her hair. Then she was moving through the doorway, toward him. She wore her pajamas, her hair in a loose knot that was coming undone. Her eyes were dark and unreadable; her mouth was an impassive line set into a pale, beautiful face.
Her hands cradled a plastic stick, and she raised it for him to see as she approached.
Two little windows were set into the plastic. One was bisected by a clear blue line, and the other was empty.
“Not pregnant,” she said.
She held the test up as if she expected him to take it, to look closer in search of any discrepancy, as if he didn’t trust her and needed to see up close for himself. Instead, he wrapped one hand around her wrist and one arm around her waist, pulling her close.
She exhaled and tipped her head, letting her temple rest against his chest. “Guess you think I’ve been making a big deal out of nothing, huh?”
“No. Not at all.”
The weight of her head resting on his chest felt good. Beneath it, he felt several things at once: relieved. Free of guilt. And on some illogical level, a little disappointed.
Mostly though, he was glad that they could move forward because they wanted to, not because she felt as if she had to be with him.
“One in eight is almost Russian roulette. It’s a pretty big deal.”
She exhaled. “That’s one way to put it.”
“You weren’t the only one who was thinking about this these past couple weeks. Now we have the chance to be more careful in the future.”
“I want to make a doctor appointment so I can get a prescription for the pill.”
“Sounds smart.”
“Yeah…” Her fingertips brushed his lower back, just below the edge of his Kevlar vest. “And then we’ll be able to stop using condoms altogether.”
His breath rushed out in a sigh of longing. “How soon do you think the doctor can get you in?”
She laughed. “We’ll see. Meanwhile, I feel so relieved – want to celebrate?”
“You wanna go out to celebrate not being pregnant?”
“I want to do something fun with you to celebrate the fact that we’re together because we want to be, not because we have to be.”
“We could pick up some food and have a picnic on the beach.”
“Sounds great.” She wrapped her arms around him with sudden fierceness. “I really like being with you, Jackson. I’m glad things aren’t going to change anytime soon.”
He breathed in the scent of her hair and ran his fingertips along the back of one of her arms, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Me too. What we have going is good.”
“That’s an understatement.” Her hand crept lower and she grabbed his ass, causing him to harden against her.
Maybe someday things would change – maybe someday they’d even have a family together. When they were ready. But for now things were good, and he was pretty fucking serious about her, pregnancy or not.
She was special. Special period, and even more special to him. She always had been, and now that she was back in his life, he couldn’t imagine a future where she wasn’t always.
CHAPTER 22
Belle poured a cup of coffee brewed by the admissions office’s new coffee maker – Keira’s idea – while humming under her breath. A tune from the radio had gotten stuck in her head during the drive to work, and she just couldn’t shake it.
“You seem like you’re in a good mood.”
Zackary appeared out of nowhere, materializing by her shoulder.
“It’s Friday, isn’t it?” Belle smiled. Yes, she was in a good mood. She wasn’t pregnant – a fact she’d been reveling in for almost a week now – and she and Jackson had plans for that night. They were going to go out, and she was going to meet a few of his co-workers, including his roommate and best friend, for the first time.
“Sure is.” Zackary flashed her a big grin.
Belle picked up her steaming mug, holding it carefully by the handle so her fingers wouldn’t be burnt. She’d filled it just a little too high, and one wrong move would send coffee sloshing over the edge. The threat made her think of Zackary’s recent accident.
“No more coffee runs,” she said, motioning toward the new coffee maker with her free hand. “I bet that’s a relief for you.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind, and I only messed it up once. Murphy’s Law, right?”
“Well, this will be safer anyway, not to mention more convenient.”
“That’s true. No more little excursions out into the sunshine – now I can stay behind my desk all day, where I belong.”
She spared him another smile, still humming the radio tune inside her head, and started toward her office.
“Hey, Belle.” He moved in the same direction, almost causing her to spill her coffee.
“Sorry.” He grimaced.
“It’s okay. What is it?”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but there was something in his voice that imparted a feeling of foreboding. Looking around the room, she realized that they were virtually alone – there were no students inside, and Keira was busy in her office, the door shut.
Woman’s intuition told her that he was about to ask her out for coffee again, or worse – a real date. Steeling herself, she prepared for the office atmosphere to reach new heights of awkwardness.
“What’s that?” she asked, trying to keep her apprehension out of her voice.
“I’m going out tonight with a few friends, and I was wondering if you’d like to come along. It’ll be fun – we’re gonna get something to eat, maybe hit Blue Mile. I live on the island, just like you.”
It sounded like the sort of Friday evenings she’d loved as a teenager – inexpensive food and an hour or so spent goofing around in the sand with a group of friends. Of course, Zackary was almost a teenager. He was what, twenty? Close enough.
“I’m sorry, but I already have plans. And even if I didn’t, I’m not interested in dating co-workers.”
He deflated, his wiry shoulders sinking. Then he nodded. “I hope you’ll change your mind sometime when you’re free. I really like you, Belle.”
She glanced around again to make sure the main office was still empty before she spoke. “Zackary … I like working with you, but it seems strange to me that you’re interested. I’ve been out of school for years, and you’re still a student.”
He shrugged. “This is my last year. Another semester and a half and I’ll have graduated, just like you. That’s not so far off, is it?”
“No, but you know a member of the faculty can’t date a student. When it comes down to it, it’s against the rules.”
He nodded, as if conceding a point. “That’s one of the reasons why I asked you to go out with a group of friends. It’s not really an official date if you’re with a group, is it? We could start hanging out, then see where things go after I graduate. No pressure.”
She bit back an exasperated sigh. “Normally, I like to keep my personal life personal. But the truth is, I’m dating someone right now and it’s going well. Things are serious enough that I don’t see myself with anyone else anytime in the near future. Maybe not ever.”
Her heart skipped a beat as her thoughts flashed to Jackson, the man she couldn’t wait to leave work and go see.
“Oh.” Zackary’s brows drew together. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
“Well, now you do.”
Before he could reply, the office door swung inward and a student walked in, a heavy backpack hanging from her shoulders.
“Nursing textbooks,” she huffed, slinging the pack onto the floor by the corner of the empty reception desk. “I swea
r they weigh a ton. Is it okay if I sit these here? I have an appointment with Ms. Moseley.”
“Sure,” Belle said, and Zackary shuffled off to his station at the desk.
Belle returned to her office with her fresh cup of coffee. It was amazing how Zackary could exasperate her and make her feel sorry for him at the same time. She should never have patched up the battle wounds he’d sustained while fetching coffee for the office – he’d been overly-warm toward her ever since.
Hindsight was twenty-twenty. At least, as he’d said, he’d be gone by the end of the next semester. The months between now and then were bound to be awkward, though, if he couldn’t come to terms with reality.
He had no way of knowing, but he had about as much chance of comparing to Jackson as she did of making it to the moon in her Toyota.
Jackson was unlike any other man she’d ever known, and already, she couldn’t remember what it felt like to want anyone but him.
* * * * *
Friday evening, Jackson picked Belle up and drove to Captain Jack’s – a seafood place a block from the Blue Mile Pier. It was a popular restaurant with two stuccoed stories of indoor seating and a sprawling outdoor pavilion cooled by bamboo ceiling fans that kept the sea breeze circulating. That and its three bars – one upstairs, one downstairs and one outside beneath the pavilion – made it the unanimous choice among the four co-workers he and Belle were meeting.
Of course, they’d all been there a few times while on duty to remove unruly drunks or break up fights, but that stuff happened most often during tourist season. Now that it was September, the tourist crowds had thinned considerably, leaving the island a little more peaceful.
“I’ve never eaten under the pavilion,” Belle said. “I always sat upstairs for the sea view.”
The light was fading, and soon it’d be too dark to enjoy the ocean view. Sitting outside, they’d at least be able to enjoy the breeze and the sound of the waves. He said so to Belle, who agreed.
“We’re meeting the Havens party out on the patio,” Jackson said when they entered through the main doors and reached the hostess’ stand.
The hostess smiled. “Right. I think they’re already here – I’ll show you the way.”
As she led them through the restaurant and toward the patio doors, Jackson touched the small of Belle’s back. She looked phenomenal in a blue dress, her hair down and her throat circled by a string of tiny white crystals. She looked up at him, smiled, and looped her arm through his.
He walked out onto the patio like that, with Belle at his side like a priceless jewel – a treasure who should’ve been hopelessly out of his reach, but wasn’t.
Elijah was already there, sitting at a corner table with Havens, another officer from their platoon. Both of them fell silent when they laid eyes on Belle, their gazes widening slightly before they regained their composure.
Obviously, Elijah had thought Jackson was exaggerating when he’d said how beautiful Belle was.
“Belle, this is Elijah. Elijah, this is Belle.” Jackson introduced them first, resisting the urge to smack the back of Elijah’s head when he gave Belle the biggest smile Jackson had ever seen him give anyone.
“So she is real.” Elijah stuck out a hand, faking surprise. “Jackson keeps talking about you, and I was starting to wonder if you were a figment of his imagination. It was hard to believe any woman would want to be with him after he wrote her a speeding ticket.”
Belle just smiled and shook his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”
“Don’t believe any of it.” Elijah’s smile spread even wider. “Jackson just wants to make sure you don’t dump him for me.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. He’d never hear the end of that stupid speeding ticket, which reminded him that the court date was coming up soon. He had to admit, the thought of showing up in court to testify against Belle did make him feel like a colossal ass. It’d taken him forever to come up with a solution, but he’d finally settled on one he hoped would make up for him writing the ticket in the first place. Belle didn’t know – it was a surprise.
She laughed and took one of the empty seats. Jackson sat beside her. Within minutes, Delgado and Rivers arrived, completing their party. Delgado brought his wife, but Rivers was alone.
Jackson introduced Belle to all of them, with the exception of Delgado’s wife, Ramona, who he’d never met before and Delgado introduced. Belle seemed happy to be there – a fact that Jackson tucked away, fuel to the fire that fought his doubts.
He’d been a little worried that she wouldn’t enjoy hanging out with his co-workers, but so far so good. They were all being nice enough, even cranky Rivers. The fact that Belle looked like a goddess probably helped – she and Ramona were definitely a couple of roses among thorns.
Or rather, Belle was a rose and Ramona was a daisy – no offense to her or Delgado, who he wouldn’t have said that to for a million bucks.
Any woman would’ve been a daisy compared to Belle; he only had eyes for her. No matter which feature of hers he focused on, he was reminded of something unforgettable. The curve of her lips made him think of how they felt pressed against his neck or wrapped around his cock. Her shoulders peeked from beneath her dress straps, and he could see them pressed against the sheets in his mind’s eye, bare beneath him.
“Jackson?” Belle touched his arm. “Elijah’s trying to get your attention.”
When he shifted his gaze – reluctantly – to his friend, Elijah arched a brow. “We wanna get the extra-large sampler platter for the table. That cool?”
“Sure.” He didn’t care.
“All right, then.” Elijah nodded at the waitress and she scrawled something down. Then she took drink orders – a glass of pinot noir for Belle and a lager on tap for Jackson.
After the drinks arrived, he figured they had a while to wait for the appetizers – the place was getting packed, despite the passing of the tourist season. It was a Friday night, after all.
Rivers entertained everyone with a ridiculous story about a convenience store manager tripping on acid, barricading himself in the break room and calling 911, convinced the coast was being invaded by Russian soldiers, who he’d claimed had pillaged the store.
Jackson had heard it before, but it was new to Belle and Ramona, who seemed to find it hilarious.
As the sun sank and the sky turned a steely grey, the big fans kept the sea breeze circulating. By the time it was dark, electric tiki torches lit up the patio. There were a couple empty tables, but mostly, it was full.
The food took a while, but when it arrived, it was good. The waitress tried to push a wine special on Ramona, who’d ordered water.
“No thanks,” she said with a smile. “I’m drinking for two now, which means I’m not drinking at all.”
Delgado broke out in a big grin, and the table erupted in a wave of noise.
“Congratulations, man,” Jackson said.
“When are you due?” Belle asked.
“The beginning of March.”
“Better start racking up overtime now,” Rivers said. “On our salary, you’ll need it.”
Delgado raised Ramona’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “No need. She’s my sugar mama.”
Ramona laughed. “Yeah, I’m really raking in the big bucks as a clerk at the city finance department. They do have a decent maternity leave policy, though.”
Both the Delgados were glowing. The light in Ramona’s eyes was unmistakable, and when she looked at her husband, it was clearly reflected in his too.
If Jackson and Belle ever had a family, that was how he wanted it to be: welcome. Happy. His gaze flickered toward Belle just as she reached for his hand under the table.
She gave him a small smile.
He smiled back.
It didn’t last long.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Elijah spoke under his breath, snapping Jackson out of his fixation with Belle.
Shifting in his seat, he turned his head to loo
k where Elijah was staring.
The magic of the moment disappeared immediately. He didn’t feel a connection with Belle or anyone else, just a gnawing in his gut.
The table grew quiet as the others noticed the couple moving through the patio area, following a hostess toward one of the few remaining empty tables.
Sanders took a seat, followed by his wife. Then he looked up, toward their table.
Jackson’s heart slammed against his ribs, pumping pure venom through his veins. Having to see Sanders at work was bad enough, and running into him off the clock was worse. Seeing him parade his battered wife around was just wrong.
Not that there was any visible bruising on her face anymore. If there was any trace of it left, she’d covered it with makeup. Jackson would’ve been willing to bet her jeans and billowy white top hid other marks of her husband’s abuse, though.
When Sanders’ gaze locked with Jackson’s, he fought the urge to swear and demand to know what the fuck Sanders was doing there.
It seemed as if he followed Jackson everywhere lately.
His wife looked up briefly but quickly dropped her gaze. If Jackson hadn’t been watching so intently, he wouldn’t have even noticed.
After that, she seemed more interested in her menu than any human being had ever been interested in anything since the beginning of time.
Jackson was hit with a pang of pity, then frustration. He didn’t ask himself why she’d dropped the charges; he knew abusers like Sanders made it hard for their victims to act, to speak up. But the fact that she’d come so close to making a difference and had lost heart at the last second … it grated.
“He doesn’t look happy to see us here,” Elijah said.
“Why should he?” Still, Jackson didn’t know whether the look of hateful surprise was an act or genuine. There were dozens upon dozens of restaurants on the island – what were the odds he’d choose Captain Jack’s on the same night they had?
