Marx Girl

by T L Swan

  He nips my neck. “And you’re a fucking milf.”

  Ben and I sit in the doctor’s surgery, waiting to go in. We’re finding out the due date and I can’t help but think how different this appointment would have been if I were coming alone.

  “Bridget Statham?” she calls.

  We walk in and the doctor smiles warmly. “Hello.”

  “Hello.” He and Ben shake hands.

  He sits and gestures to our chairs. We sit down. He opens the file and reads the report, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He smiles. “Definitely pregnant.”

  Ben smiles at the floor.

  “Let do this ultrasound. Hop up onto the table.”

  I climb up onto the table and he pulls my top up as Ben watches on in silence. The doctor goes over my stomach with the ultrasound machine.

  “Just as I thought.” He smiles.

  Ben and I watch on, with no idea what we’re seeing.

  “Are there twins in the family?” he asks.

  My eyes widen. “Y-yes,” I whisper.

  “There will be another set soon. Congratulations.”

  My eyes find Ben’s across the room.

  “There are two?” Ben gasps.

  “Yes. I guessed from your hormone levels that something was going on.”

  I lie on the bed, in shock.

  “You can hop off now,” the doctor says before he sits down and takes a little wheel thing out and turns it. “Your babies will be with us in June.”

  I glance at Ben, completely mortified, but he smiles back at me.

  “Twins are harder, but not impossible, Bridget. It will all be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Tw… t-two babies,” I croak from the bed.

  “Just carry on as normal. Treat it as a normal pregnancy.”

  ‘Two?” I hold two of my fingers up.

  “Yes.” He and Ben chuckle.

  “Any questions?” the doctor asks.

  Ben frowns, and I know he wants to ask about sex, but won’t.

  “Can we have sex?” I ask.

  Ben rolls his lips to stop himself from laughing.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Screw you and your twin-producing semen, Statham. I’m going to embarrass you now. “Rough sex?” I ask.

  Ben’s eyes widen in absolute mortification.

  The doctor frowns. “Well…” He coughs to clear his throat. “Well, not crazy rough, no, but normal rough should be okay.”

  I nod, and Ben shakes his head in embarrassment.

  “Your appointment with the obstetrician will be brought forward by a few weeks now, so when you make the appointment, make sure you tell them it’s twins.”

  Ben stands, and shakes the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.” He smiles proudly.

  He takes my hand and we walk out to the parking lot in silence.

  We get to the car and I freeze. “Ben. Two babies?”

  I begin to freak out.

  “I was scared to have one. How in the hell will I cope with two?”

  Ben smiles lovingly at me. “We’ll work it out. I’ll have some time off work.” He kisses me and rubs my stomach before he bends to kiss it.

  “Twins,” he whispers excitedly.

  My face falls. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  He smiles with a beautiful twinkle in his eye. “Remember what you told me, Didge?”

  “What?”

  “We can do anything as long as we have each other.”

  He kisses me and he’s so hopeful and happy, and my world stops turning, because, just like that…

  He was saved.

  I will love him

  to infinity and beyond.

  THE END

  EPILOGUE - Marx Girl

  BEN

  6 Weeks later. The wedding.

  I glance over to Joel. “Do you have the rings?” I ask.

  He pats his pocket. “For the tenth time, yes.”

  I look up the street, my anxiety rising.

  “She’ll be fine,” Joshua offers.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “As fine as she can be with two of your baby apes inside of her,” Brock mutters as he fiddles with his cufflinks. “No wonder she’s fucking grumpy.”

  I smirk as I continue to look up the street.

  I’m standing outside the front of the church with the boys, Joshua, Cameron, and Brock. Rick, Matt, Ethan, and Joel have flown in, but Ally stayed at home as their baby girl is too little to fly.

  Today, I officially get to marry my Bridget, and the poor thing happens to be sicker than I have ever seen her..

  So much so that this morning I actually asked her to postpone today’s ceremony.

  She wouldn’t have a bar of it.

  She’s been on her hands and knees throwing up for three weeks, and if I thought she was snarky when she was tired, I didn’t know what was to come. Her morning sickness will be the very death of me.

  I’m quite sure she’s plotting my murder. I now sleep with one eye open.

  I don’t know why they call it morning sickness, because for Didge, it’s a twenty-four-hour exorcism.

  I wish I could do it for her.

  It kills me to watch her go through it.

  “So, what happened with the dress?” Rick frowns.

  I roll my eyes. “Ugh. Where do I start? She bought a wedding dress weeks ago and loved it. But when she tried it on yesterday it didn’t fit around her boobs. She’s grown from the pregnancy, so she went into a complete meltdown.” My eyes find his. “No shit, like, fucking Armageddon.”

  Rick and Ethan laugh.

  “She was throwing up and Abbie, her nut job friend, was laughing and saying she knew those boobs of hers were going to get her into trouble one day. Tash and Adrian were running around like maniacs screaming at everyone while they were trying to find a dress and shoes at the very last minute.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fucking chaos, I tell you.” I sigh.

  Stan widens his eyes. “It was hectic. We went to the gym to hide.”

  Rick winces. “Nasty.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way,” Brock mutters as he dusts off his suit shoulder.

  “They’re your sisters,” Stan replies, deadpan. “Only fair you should get the honours.”

  “Yeah, well, this is why I’m not getting married. I can’t deal with this shit,” Brock says as he curls his lip before he turns his attention to the American boys. “So, you guys going to come over and work for Marx Security with Joel?”

  “I can’t yet. Ally isn’t keen.” Rick frowns. “I’m still working on it.”

  “I’m coming.” Ethan smiles.

  “Yeah, me, too,” Matt agrees.

  “I can’t wait to get over here,” Joel says.

  He moves over in a month and I smile. It’s going to be so good working with my friends and showing them around Australia without having army duties to worry about. We’re finally going to have some fun.

  That’s if Bridget stops fucking throwing up.

  “How many do you have working for you now?” Ethan asks.

  “I’ve got six guys. Jesten starts next week, and then with you three it will make ten of us,” Brock informs us.

  “Ugh.” Joshua groans. “I still can’t believe you hired that fucking idiot.”

  “He’s good at what he does,” Brock argues.

  I smirk. Stan gets worked up at the smallest mention of Jesten.

  “What’s this guy’s go?” Ethan asks. “Why does Stan hate him so much?”

  “Nothing. Jesten just digs his wife.” Brock winks. “Doesn’t he, Stan? They go way back.” He rubs salt into the wound.

  “There is no way back,” Stan snaps as he pulls the sleeves of his jacket down to straighten them. “He wishes there was history.” He glares at Brock. “However, I will break your jaw if you talk about wayback.”

  I chuckle and throw Brock a wink. I love watching him stir Joshua up. He takes the bait e
very time.

  “We start to work on the TC case next week.” Brock returns to the conversation.

  I nod as I look up the road. “Well, I already know who did that.”

  “Yeah, but we need to prove it.”

  Cameron releases a low whistle and smiles darkly. “Oh, hello, Little Red Riding Hood. Come to Daddy.”

  We all turn to see a gorgeous brunette in a tight red dress walking towards the church. She’s super sexy with curves in all the right places.

  “Shotgun,” Cameron whispers.

  “Fuck off, Stanton,” Brock snaps. “You can’t fucking shotgun her.”

  Cam smiles and he raises a brow. “Funny, I just did,” he mutters as he watches her. “Catch you losers later. I’m going to get my wolf on.” He takes off after her, disappearing inside the church.

  Stan and I roll our eyes. He’s hopeless.

  “He’s going to catch on fire in that fucking church,” Stan grumbles.

  I get an image of Cameron combusting into flames as he walks into the church and I laugh. He probably will.

  More guests arrive.

  I glance at my watch again. “Where are they?”

  “They’re coming, will you relax?”

  I take out my phone and text Max.

  What’s going on?

  A text comes back.

  We are following the car now.

  All good this end.

  Be there in five.

  I reply.

  How’s she feeling?

  A text comes back.

  The injection worked

  She’s good.

  Relax.

  “They are almost here,” I announce. “We better get inside the church.”

  Stan looks up the street and sees Jesten crossing the road. He narrows his eyes in contempt and puts his hands on his hips.

  I roll my eyes. “Will you quit it?” I snap.

  “I’m fucking watching him.” Stan scowls as he glares up the road.

  “Stan.”

  “What?” His eyes stay fixed on Jesten.

  “This is my wedding day, and if you start any shit with him…”

  His eyes flicker to me.

  “I will kill you with my bare hands,” I finish.

  “I won’t be starting it, but I’ll be fucking finishing it if he pisses me off.” He growls before marching off towards the church.

  We stand and watch him disappear. “Can you keep an eye on him?” I ask Brock.

  “No.” He rubs his eyes. “That is one fucking job I am not doing. I can’t keep Joshua Stanton The Hot Head in check. Nobody can. He’s out of fucking control.”

  The white Rolls Royce pulls up and I smile.

  She’s here.

  “Let’s go.”

  Ten minutes later, I stand at the end of the aisle, waiting.

  My friends are here. My aunt and uncle flew in from South Africa, and I wish I could tell you that this is the happiest day in my life.

  But it’s not. My first wedding day was.

  Our real wedding.

  In New York, when it was the just the two of us.

  It was so unexpected and so premature… but that day meant so much to me because it was unbelievable that she jumped off a cliff.

  For me, with me.

  Her faith in me is unwavering.

  And like this beautiful, pure angel, she has completely transformed my life.

  From one of hardened regret to a hopeful future filled with love.

  She comes into sight and my breath catches.

  I feel my eyes well up.

  She’s wearing the ice-pink dress she wore to our first wedding and I have to drop my head to control my emotion.

  Same shoes, same hair with the big white flower tucked behind her ear.

  Same perfect woman with the same beautiful smile.

  Seeing the effect she has on me, she beams brightly, and I just want to run to fetch her.

  God, she’s perfect.

  Taking slow steps, she walks down the aisle, her arm hooked through her brother Brock’s as her gaze holds mine.

  “Hi,” she whispers as they approach.

  I rise up onto my toes, fighting excitement I can hardly control. “Hi,” I whisper back.

  Brock shakes my hand and then passes her hand to me. I can’t help it. I take her in my arms and kiss her softly. “You look beautiful,” I whisper.

  Bridget and Natasha giggle from their place beside her.

  For a moment, I forget where I am as I stare down at her.

  “Are we ready?”

  “Oh, yes.” I step back from her.

  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Bridget Marx to Benjamin Statham.”

  The minister keeps on talking, but I’m lost.

  My eyes roam over her perfect face, her big pouty lips, and then lower. My eyes rise to meet hers and I smile, forgetting where I am. I lean down and softly kiss her again.

  Everybody chuckles and I stand up, realising what I just did.

  Bridget laughs and kisses me again, our lips lingering over each other’s.

  “Not yet, you two.” The minister frowns.

  We both smirk as we try to behave.

  He continues on. I watch her as she smiles goofily up at me, as if daring me.

  I lean forward to kiss her again and she laughs. “Behave yourself,” she whispers as the church all break into laughter.

  “Repeat after me.”

  “I, Benjamin Statham, take thee, Bridget Marx, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. According to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I pledge thee my faith.

  She slides the ring onto my finger and I kiss her again. She giggles and shakes her head.

  “Repeat after me.”

  “I, Bridget Marx, take thee, Benjamin Statham, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. According to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I pledge thee my faith.

  She slides the ring onto my finger.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife, and I now give you permission to kiss your bride.”

  The crowd cheer and I take her in my arms, kissing her softly. “I don’t need his permission to kiss you” I whisper in her ear.

  She laughs and whispers back, “Will you behave?”

  “Never.”

  Eighteen months later.

  “Thank you all for joining me today,” says The President to the crowd.

  “Today we come together to celebrate the bravery of one of the army’s finest soldiers from our Elite Delta force. Benjamin Statham.”

  I stand before him in full uniform. Today I’m receiving a medal of honour, the army’s highest award.

  He continues to talk, but my eyes fall to the front row to where Bridget and our two beautiful daughters are sitting. Rosie and Meika are twelve months old and they are the light in our lives. Meika sits on her mother’s lap while Rosie is climbing all over Adrian as he tries to control her. Joshua, Natasha, Cameron, Brock, Abbie, Victoria, and all of my friends are here. I’m very grateful for the family I married into, that the one I now call my own.

  The twins are beautiful. It was tough in the beginning, but we’ve settled into a routine now and we can’t imagine life without them. Rosie is strong willed, walking, and refusing to eat anything other than bananas. She’s a handful already. Meika is smaller, easy going and placid. She’s not walking yet, although it won’t be long. She is clingy and never far from her mother’s side. Both girls are olive-skinned and pretty with dark hair, just like Didge. We live by the ocean, about an hour out of Sydney in a beautiful house, high in the mountains and surrounded by trees.

  The view out over the water is majestic.

  “This soldier single-handedly brought down one of the
army’s biggest dthreats to date, and he saved thousands of lives in the process,” The President continues.

  My mind goes to that night in Syria, and how different it could have ended.

  The mist fills the air as I exhale. The temperature is cold, just one degree.

  The landscape is unforgiving, hard and dry. It’s 2:00 a.m. and we are lying in long grass outside a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, but it’s the location of the missing nuclear weapon.

  We gained intelligence that the farm owners have been killed and their house taken over. The two dogs that were shot dead and left on the driveway support that theory.

  There are five of us left on this mission. Two nights ago we were ambushed in a bar, unprepared, and one of our men was stabbed. The fight turned ugly and somehow my dog chains were torn from my neck. Thankfully, our fellow soldier is all right and recovering in camp.

  I put my hand up and signal that we are going in. We begin to creep closer to the property, remaining stealth.

  Four men walk out of the front door and we all duck low. They are talking and smoking as they lean against a car. We can’t understand what they are saying but they are very animated, as if reacting to something that has just happened.

  Two of them walk one way around the house, while the other two walk off towards the barn.

  I put my fingers up to the two that are going around the side of the house and point to two soldiers to follow them to the barn. I symbol to my eyes to the other two to tell them to stay and watch the front of the house.

  The two soldiers turn and begin to crawl through the grass, back towards the barn, leaving me to crawl towards the house.

  I make it and lean up against the wall I can hear men talking inside.

  Many voices. I concentrate to count how many.

  Seven.

  Eleven men in total.

  I sneak around the side of the house, my heart beating hard in my chest, and I peer through a window.

  A woman, a man, and three small children are tied up and gagged, sitting on the floor. The children are asleep sitting upright.

  They’re still alive, but for how long?

  The fire ignites inside of me and I grip the gun in my hand.