The Arrangement 24 (The Ferro Family)

by H. M. Ward

  I will not crack.

  I will not fall apart.

  I will not crack.

  This isn’t real.

  My fingers tightly curl back into fists. The nails bite into my palms. I don’t bleed in dreams. There, the blood that shows is a memory, a wash of color that’s too bright, too thin. The storm ravaging inside me does not yield. Focus. Wake up.

  You can’t fall apart.

  They need you. Sean needs you.

  Swallowing hard, I lift my hand off the table and bend it toward me. It takes effort to unclench my hand, but I don’t have to. My pale flesh is smooth over taut muscles, my fist still crushed closed. The whites of my nails vanish beneath my skin and soak in tiny baths of deep crimson liquid. Tipping my wrist forward, I watch as tiny ribbons of blood trail down my palm, snaking over my wrist and down my arm in a hot trail.

  This is real.

  This can’t be true. My heart slams into my chest as I struggle for air. Truth be told, I long for the days of nightmares and sinking seas. Of waking in a cold sweat, screaming, with Amber scolding me. Her curvy body perched in the window, smoke billowing from her lips as she scolds me, tells me I’m a fool. She wasn’t wrong.

  She’s dead. I stiffen in my seat and glance at my hands again. Red. Each pad is inked with bright red blood. Some sensation should return, right? Why can’t I feel that? My senses are dulled in dreams, but this blood is real. I’m sure of it.

  Panic rears its ugly head. What happened to the happy days on the beach? Where is Sean now? I’ve lost him. Forever. He thinks I did this terrible thing. Muddled images pour together, racing in order: sandy beach, Sean’s slick, naked body pressed to mine, the birth, the endless rows of pews at the christening, the celebrations, the towers of food at the wedding breakfast, golden sunlight drowning that wedding gown in gold, and then they came. Men in suits and boys in blue.

  A man walks up the center aisle, alone. Briefcase in hand, he sits in the chair next to me. I don’t know him. There’s a hardness to him, as if he’s done horrible things and no longer cares. His spine is rebar, his expression steel. Without turning to me, he commands, “Say nothing.”

  My jaw gapes open, but he repeats himself. I close it.

  Clutching my hands tightly, I turn them over, and scan the red ribbons. I blink hard, trying to feel the pain. Lifting my forefinger, I press the pad of my finger into the blood. Still nothing.

  The man pulls a dark red handkerchief from his designer suit pocket, and hands it to me. “Clean that up if you have any intention of getting out of here.” I wipe my hands, washing away the streaks, and holding the piece of fabric tightly in my wounded palm.

  I stare blankly at nothing. Remembering last night.

  The memories buzz in my head. I fail to reply to anyone, even my mother. I’m trapped in this hollow place, a prison of glass. There’s no way out. That’s when I feel it, the monster within. The darkest part of my shattered soul, the remnant that refuses to die. It breathes my name.

  Avery.

  At one point I beckoned this part of me, the part of my being that felt nothing, and would do anything to survive. Now that it’s found me, I shudder. The physical response is the only thing I’ve felt since they told me. The ice that wraps my heart cracks slightly as the darkness, that monster, that most disgusting version of me, shoots its poisonous thoughts through my veins. Into my mind.

  Everyone has darkness within. The difference is whether they choose to fight it. If they listen to it, well, then that’s all the difference. I’m in the same spot Sean was in before he met me. Alone. I thought he’d be here. I thought Sean would come, that he’d believe me. But there’s no sight of him. Not a single Ferro.

  “All rise.”

  Robotically, I stand as pieces of last night slam into my mind.

  My wet wedding dress clinging to my body, weighed down with water I don’t remember walking through. There’s no rain. The streets were dry. Another image illuminates before I can make sense out of the last. Dark locks were pinned to my head, elaborately decorated with tiny pearls pinned perfectly in place. Sun fills that room, but outside, less than an hour later my hair hangs in my face, dripping.

  These images play on repeat, like an old DVD that continues to replay until someone presses STOP. The voluminous white silk skirts, once adorned with light lace are mashed together. The hem is torn, the lace dragging through the debris. And the bodice. That’s the worst part. There’s not a stitch of white remaining.

  The entire thing is stained with blood.

  CHAPTER 2

  11 MONTHS EARLIER

  FERRO ESTATE, CARIBBEAN

  I pad down a path lined with smooth stepping stones. Indigenous flowers line the edges, jutting up from the sandy earth in plumes of blue and pink. The sounds of waves lapping the shore fills my ears, but I still can’t see the ocean as I walk out of the house.

  I pass the clear blue pool that lies directly outside the floor to ceiling windows, still lit, glowing turquoise. A memory flashes in the back of my mind—black shrouded bodies and ribbons of blood. I blink it away.

  The waves are deep blue, sliding in and out, against the silvery sand. The inky night to the west is shrinking back as the eastern sky blooms with shades violet and indigo.

  This is my spot. This place beyond the dune, where the water meets the shore, at the end of the world. If the Earth was flat, this is where it begins. This is where the sun creeps over the horizon trickling pots of gold and amber light. The sweet scent of the night air lifts as the waves slink up closer to me, nearing my toes at the edge of the water. The tide is shifting. Soon there will be a sandbar out there covered with life.

  Another wave washes in, closer to me this time, slipping over my hot pink toe nails which are buried in the sand at the edge of the water. I pulled on a pink floral string bikini before leaving the house and tied a matching sarong around my waist.

  Reflecting, meditating, or whatever you want to call it, keeps me still. Pensive. Through my lashes, I watch the tide slip in closer to my spot on the sand. The world around me has a calming effect, allowing me to feel every light breeze that caresses my skin and enjoy each rustle of grass on the dunes at my back. Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs and lace my fingers together. Another day dawns. Promising a future I can’t imagine. A baby. A husband. A new life has risen from the ashes of the old one. Instead of feeling like a phoenix, I’m brimming with trepidation and my dreams are frothy with nightmares.

  Dr. Chang assures me that they’ll subside, that one day I’ll sleep again. Until then, meditate, focus on the present. The hardest part is releasing the strangle-hold on my past. I feel like I’ll live the rest of my life looking backwards, unable to turn from the horrors that I endured. Another wave rolls past the reef and breaks, before spilling on the shore, stopping just before my feet. Breathe. I close my eyes and wait to feel the warm water lick my skin.

  Instead, I feel Sean’s warm hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and smile softly. The waves swallowed the sound of him approaching. The first few times he did that, I jumped a mile and sprung to my feet, ready to fight. I’m finally back to normal, realizing that it’s my lover, not a deranged killer trying to hurt me. Well, close enough to normal. The life I had before is gone. I need to accept that, but accepting it and letting it go seem to conflict in my mind. I don’t understand why. I’m not sure I ever will.

  “Hey, Beautiful.” Sean leans in, kisses my cheek. Dark stubble grazes my skin as I savor the heat from his mouth. He’s wearing a pair of shorts, no shirt. The muscular definition of his upper body became more defined while we’ve been here. He’s gotten harder and I’ve gotten softer—rounder.

  Sean sits down on the beach next to me, burying his fingers in the sand. He kicks out his long legs and crosses them at the ankle before turning his beautiful face toward me. “You should have woken me. I would have come out with you.”

  Inhaling deeply, I lean toward him and rest my temple on his s
houlder. My hair is in a sloppy ponytail, most of which frizzed. Strands were pulled free by the wind and tickle my neck. Resting against his arm is difficult. He senses it and shifts to wrap an arm around me, tucking me to his side.

  Staring at the ocean, I answer, “I thought it was better to let you sleep.”

  “I love watching the sunrise with you.”

  I make a sound of disagreement in the back of my throat. “You prefer the twilight hours more. You’re a creature of darkness, Sean Ferro.”

  “And, yet, I’m drawn to the shore at dawn. Tell me why.” His voice is a whisper, not a command. He’s curious about this ritual, and asks daily, but I’ve yet to tell him. His arm is draped across my shoulder, and he pulls me tighter against his body. “What do you think about when you sit here?”

  I try to think of nothing, but dread fills me. I come here to let the water wash my apprehension away. The waves are like tears that I haven’t cried. They offer absolution that I can’t seem to find on my own. While I know the answer to his question, my mind drifts to what’s to come, causing my heart to beat faster.

  I want to bargain with him. Plead for a few more weeks, a few more days. The plane will return tonight and we go back home to Manhattan. But I don’t beg. I know it’s impossible.

  I suck in a deep breath of morning air and let it fill me. Sean’s scent mixes with it, making me smile. “I imagine I’m sitting at the edge of the world, waiting to greet the sun. If the sun rises again, so can I.”

  The rawness of the statement makes him hold me tighter. He kisses my temple and presses his face to my cheek. “I have never met anyone with your strength, ferocity, or determination. You’re a force of nature, as daunting at the dawn—and as bright.” Sean’s breath is warm against my cheek. He catches a stray curl, whipped by the wind and tucks it behind my ear before continuing.

  “You pulled me from the darkness without being devoured by it,” Sean confesses, his voice deep, low, and filled with awe. “You have enough misery that it could consume you, but it hasn’t. It won’t. Because of who you are at your core. You’re a fighter, Avery. Surviving isn’t enough for you. You need sunlight and good things.”

  My response is flat, automatic. The thoughts tumble from my lips before I can stop them. “I don’t deserve good things. I’m a horrible person. I’ve done…” my voice catches in my throat as my body stiffens in his arms. I can’t say it out loud. Admitting it to him is like reliving the whole mess all over again. I won’t do it.

  “Avery, you deserve good things.” His head lifts from mine and I know he’s looking out to the horizon, to the spot where sea meets sky and the two blur together. When he speaks again, he’s staring straight ahead. Matter of factly, he confesses, “You make me want to be like you.”

  I can’t help it. A smile breaks across my lips and I pull back as I catch his eye. Tugging at the frizzed ends of my long ponytail, now blown over my shoulder. I glance up from under my lashes, asking shyly, “Really? I’m a train wreck most of the time. Why would you want that?”

  That dimple on his cheek reveals itself as his smile deepens. The look softens the hard planes of his chiseled face, erasing the worry that’s been etched around his mouth, replacing it with crinkles at the edges of his eyes. “Because you’re the girl who ran into the fire to rummage through the broken pieces, trying to save everyone. You’re not the mangled train. You’re not torqued metal and shattered glass.”

  A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. The way he looks at me, as if I hold such promise, makes me uneasy. I look out at the ocean, the sand, and bounce between objects until I feel his fingers on my chin. Sean rests a finger there, turning my face back toward him.

  Blue eyes piercing my soul, he explains, “You didn’t cause the wreck. You’re a first responder, the guy who runs in, not thinking of himself. The one who came to help everyone else. You’re a hero, Avery. You’re my hero.”

  A sound that’s cross between a snort and shock croaks from my throat. “I’m no hero. I’m a murd— ” He cuts me off, not letting me say it.

  He takes my shoulders, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You wanted the truth, Avery. That’s the truth. You saved me. You gave me another chance at happiness and I fully intend to take it.” The intensity of his gaze makes me shift in the sand.

  I believe him, but there’s still that hollow pit inside of me. The facts don’t change. The events, the cruelty, that flared inside of me the night of my brother’s death, it’s still there. Thinking about it turns my stomach, twisting it to the point of pain. Pressing my lips together, I try to hear him out. I want to let his words trump the guilt that’s ravaging me.

  I lower my lashes to break away from those sapphire eyes, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he reaches up with both hands and rests his palms on my skin, cupping my cheeks. He leans in slowly and brushes his lower lip to mine. Hesitant, waiting to see if I pull away, argue, or bolt. The way he holds me, as if I’m everything to him, makes me believe. Despite all the anguish, he reaches me. The shadows are temporarily vanquished as I press my mouth to his. The warmth of his breath and the taste of his lips makes me want more. My lips part as I tangle my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is slow and seductive.

  When he pulls away, he’s still watching me, trying to hold my gaze. Those beautiful lips are in a smooth line, his eyes wide, waiting, watching me. In that moment, I can read his thoughts—feel his concerns. Sean is afraid of losing me, that I’ll slip away into the dark abyss and never return. That reality would be a waking nightmare for him, to live like that, forever. Knowing I’ve mentally vacated and there’s nothing he can do to pull me back. It’s all there. In the way he holds his head tipped slightly to the side, the worry pinched between his brows. The depths of his eyes that confess he lived in those dark places. The way his gaze silently pleads with me.

  My stomach is swirling with butterflies and something else—something I can’t face. Not yet. “I love you.”

  He grins at that. “I love you too.” Sean stands, brushes the sand off his shorts, and offers me his hand. “How about an early morning swim?”

  My eyebrows fly up my face into my hairline in shock. “Seriously? You hate the water in the morning. You said it makes you sticky all day.” Sean tends to swim at night right before he showers.

  A wicked grin slips across his face. “I don’t think you understand. There’s a certain well-read romance book with the pages stuck together.” I feel my cheeks flame red. “Someone has a thing for water, sand, and sunshine.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Sean reaches around my back and pulls the bikini string, untying the bow. The top loosens, but it doesn’t fall. There’s still another bow at my neck, tied tight. The patches of fabric hang, covering me like flowery twin flags. I don’t move to hold it in place. I just watch him, surprised.

  We’ve only done this at night when everyone is gone. After Constance left, Sean flew in the butler and housekeeper from his California estate to keep things neat and tidy. Okay, that’s an understatement. Those two are neat freaks, more O.C.D. than a control freak’s wet dream, and they’re always around during daylight hours.

  Add in beachball baby belly and sex wasn’t really on the menu. Not today. My moods have been all over the place. Poor Sean. One second I’m in tears and the next I’m wishing there was a Tantra chair in our room. Sean doesn’t shy away from my extremes. He rarely lets me sit alone. It’s as if he can tell my pensiveness turns somber and then swoops in before the tide changes, and pulls my mind into darker waters.

  I grin at him as a breeze lifts the flaps of fabric, revealing underboob—which I had no idea was sexy until Sean went nuts one day. My old bikini tops are small thanks to baby hormones and I have muffin top, scone sideboobs, and cupcake underboobs. Yeah, all at the same time. Curvy pale skin was poking out everywhere that afternoon, and all I could think about were chocolate chip muffins. I was accosted on my way to the kitchen, and thoroughly pleasured. Then we spent the
next few hours baking and munching on muffins.

  Sex and chocolate. A pregnant woman’s fantasy.

  I grin at him, suggesting, “There are so many things that need to happen today. Aren’t Jules and Marko already awake?” It was different before they arrived. The house was empty and the kitchen exploded with used muffin tins.

  Sean’s dark lashes lower as a finger lifts and slowly traces the outer line of breast to the side of the scrap of fabric. “They’re not out here.”

  Giggling, I swat him away. “They can see us.”

  A devilish smirk crosses his face. “Maybe we’ll be done by then.”

  A dark brow creeps up my face and I laugh. “Really? A quickie in the sand? How romantic.” The corner of my lips creep up on one side and I fold my arms across my chest, causing an ample swell in ‘the girls’ neck of the woods. Damn, my boobs are huge.

  “Wow.” Sean’s voice is near reverent and I realize we’re both staring at my boobs.

  I tip my head to the side and shift my arms, making my enormous breasts swell further. For a girl that’s been less than ample for her whole life, this is fun. I alternate arms, squeezing my elbows, making the girls dance and jiggle. “Can they stay like this? This is kinda fun. I’ve been assuming they’ll shrink.” My face blanches and I lift my face, slowly meeting Sean’s eyes. “What if they deflate? My God, is that what happens?” My smile is gone and my hands drop to my sides.

  Sean laughs. It’s a deep jovial sound. He takes me in his arms, hugging me tight. “They’re not balloons, Avery. No matter how many times I’ve blown you.”

  I honk a laugh and shove him away, grinning like a lovestruck fool. Which I am. Completely. “What time are we supposed to leave?”