Mutual Release

by Liz Crowe

“I know. But he didn’t love you, Nina. He hurt you. And now you have to fight back.”

  She nodded, tears flowing again. He took a breath, walked out of the stifling room, handed the cops his business card and told them he would call soon. After jumping into his car and screeching out onto Interstate 75, the mantra in his head kept him from flooring the fucking thing, letting the new Audi open up and show him what it could do.

  His phone rang. Yet another unfamiliar number, one he’d seen earlier, flashed on his dashboard. He frowned and touched the phone button on the steering wheel.

  “Adams!” A woman’s voice filled his car. “Have you talked to Julie this week?”

  “Uh, no, Sara, I haven’t. But you know that, so why are you asking me hypothetical – ”

  “Shut up, you ass. She got called back for another ultrasound. The doctor says he’s worried about something. I’m meeting her there because she won’t call you… God, you guys… never mind. Get over there, Evan, or so help me – ”

  “U of M?” he asked, pulling onto I-94 pointed west and tempting every cop in a twenty-mile radius, smiling in spite of himself when the car roared to life. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Nine

  Julie drove to the University of Michigan Hospital complex, parked in one of the giant structures, found the obstetrician’s office, checked in, and took a seat. Fascinated by the varying sizes of all the pregnant women that filled the waiting room, she sucked on a mint, the only thing she could put in her mouth that did not make her want to hurl.

  Sara rushed in and gave her a squeeze. They waited forever, then about forty-five minutes beyond, before her name was called. After clearing up the misunderstanding that they were a lesbian couple, Julie had a hard time suppressing giggles through the rest of the brief discussion with the nurse.

  She’d been handed over to a “high-risk” team and she still couldn’t get her head around why. She was only in her thirties, for crying out loud and healthy as a horse. But before she could ask the questions she wanted, they handed her a gown, told her to disrobe, and make herself comfortable on the exam table.

  Sara disappeared into the hallway telling her she’d be back for the ultrasound. Julie lay down, closed her eyes when the room spun, and tried to find a reason to be happy about any part of this bullshit situation.

  It was what she wanted. She’d never believed Evan would just abandon her, leave behind his responsibility. That’s what you get for listening to his dying, half-crazy mother. And for trusting him.

  She sighed, put a hand on her flat stomach. The nurses had chastised her for dropping ten pounds since her last visit and given her some bland food ideas to try. A rogue tear slid out of her eye.

  When the door opened Julie ignored it, keeping her arm beneath her head, needing to prop up some or she would have to get up and vomit again. All the words her husband had ever said in their most intense moments whirled through her mind. She cursed herself for believing any of it.

  A perky radiologist walked in and tugged out the foot stirrups. “Okay, so I found Dad. They are usually late to these things.”

  Julie sat up so fast she had to grip the sides of the table to keep from sliding off in a dead faint. Evan grabbed her but kept his distance and his face blank. Her heart pounded at his touch. She looked away, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how relieved she was to see him. This whole thing had gone downhill the second she agreed to marry him. Part of her wished it all back, the part that wasn’t practically panting with need to have him wrap her in his arms and whisper in that way he had, reassuring her everything was all right.

  “Okay, Julie, lie back. Give me a second.”

  Evan raised an eyebrow at the long trans-vaginal ultrasound device. She frowned at him, put her feet in the stirrups, and took a breath.

  “Why are we doing this again? Didn’t you do one at seven weeks?” he asked. Julie glanced at him. He’d been reading up, it seemed. Fine. She refused to meet his eyes.

  “Oh, I thought Julie told you,” the radiologist said as she kept staring at the screen. “The doctor has a sneaking suspicion about something and wants to confirm it. And this is the best way, the earlier the better.”

  Evan put a hand on her arm and the shivery, trembling feeling she’d been sustaining for nearly three months stopped, as if a switch were flipped. Her nerve endings flooded with a magical but annoying calm. How did he do that?

  She bit her lip and glanced at his face, marveling at its familiar, beloved, handsome perfection – and at how strong the urge was to punch him right between the eyes. He kept watching the doctor though, seemingly unaware of his effect, good or bad. Julie looked down at the hand that rested on her arm. His wedding ring glinted in the harsh fluorescent light.

  His eyes shone as he met her gaze. I’m sorry, he mouthed and brushed her hair back.

  She winced as the ultrasound device was inserted and went all the way up to what felt like her esophagus. Saliva flooded her mouth and she sucked in a breath. “Hang in there, dear,” the doctor murmured reassuringly, as she patted her leg and kept an eye on the monitor. Julie held back a sob as the side pain she’d been having shot through her again.

  “Uh-huh,” the doctor said. “Sorry, Julie, your right ovary has developed a bit of a cyst, but it’s normal and should fade as the pregnancy progresses. It’s likely where both of the eggs came from.”

  “Both of the… huh?” Evan’s voice faded at the end. His face drained of color. Julie gripped his arm, trying to make out anything from the fuzzy images on the monitor.

  “Yes, you are carrying twins. We thought so, based on some of your lab results. Fraternal. I see two distinct embryonic sacs already.”

  “Oh, Evan,” she whispered. “I’m gonna…”

  Evan grabbed a small plastic bowl, and she held onto it but kept staring at the monitor. He clutched her other hand, and together they watched as the radiologist pointed out the tiny little peanut-looking things nestled end to end, growing inside her body.

  “You can go now,” Julie said, shouldering her purse and pulling her hair out from the coat collar. “Thanks for coming.” She was shaking all over, wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, let him take care of her. But no, she’d learned that lesson. She gave him a neutral smile.

  Evan stood in the hallway outside the doctor’s office, hands tucked into his trousers. Fucking man looked so good, better than he deserved to, but she was not falling for it, not again. He moved to the right, blocking her way when she tried to bypass him.

  “Pardon me,” she muttered, looking down. “I’ve got this. You don’t want it, last I heard. So go on, you’re excused from playing the good daddy for the doctors.”

  “Julie.” His voice was low, and compelled her in ways that at that moment did nothing but piss her the hell off.

  “You are not my boss, Evan Adams. You do not get to declare yourself uninterested in me or my desire to have your child… your children… Jesus.” She ran a hand down her face. He tried to touch her face, but she jerked away, took several steps back, glaring at him, trying with all she had to maintain her independence. “You tricked me,” she hissed, crossing her arms. Nausea floated through her again, but she bit it back. “No, do not talk. Just listen. You,” she poked a finger at his chest, closing her eyes when she got a nose full of his clean, distinctly Evan scent, “are a faker. A fucking liar and an immature child. You do not get to play with me, toy with my body, my heart, and my mind. Then when things get too messy for your taste, just leave me behind like a knocked-up prom date. I will not let you do this to me.” She lost the battle and let the tears flow, as she gripped her elbows trying to quell the violent shakes that had her in their embarrassing clutches.

  “I know, Julie. Please. Honey, I’m here to beg your forgiveness.”

  “Fucking Dom my ass, you are nothing but a manipulative, selfish prick and… um… what?”

  “I said…” He took her left hand, unpeeled it from around her r
ight elbow. Slowly, he drew it to his lips. “I am sorry. I was wrong. I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life. Please, please let me back in. I want to take care of you, of our… children.” His voice broke. She frowned.

  “I hate you,” her voice came out a weak whisper.

  “No, you don’t,” he said as he drew her into his arms. He kissed her hair and held her close. She could feel him trembling. “I love you. And I am so, so sorry.”

  She let him kiss her, cradle her face between his hands. Her heart sped up so fast she gasped and grabbed onto him as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did. She broke the kiss, wincing when her side hurt and the hallway spun.

  “Fine,” she growled into his neck, relief pouring through her and turning her into a bowl of quivery JELL-O. “Come home if you must,” she let her hand travel down and cup his cock, which hardened under her palm, “but be warned I am one horny bitch. Hope you got some rest while you were ignoring me.”

  He sighed, kissed her forehead. “God, I missed you.” He held her hand to the elevator, walked her to her car. “Race you home, Daredevil. But…” He touched her stomach. “Watch it. Precious cargo and all that shit. Did you get my text? About the alarms?”

  “Aw, you are so sweet. Now get out of the way. I have a date, and I don’t wanna be late for it. And yeah, I did.”

  “Evan, honey?” she asked as he loomed over her, kissing her gently. She’d showered, accepted the few bites of cheese and crackers she could tolerate, then leapt at him, ripping at his clothes and practically growling her way into the bedroom. He’d been slow, calm, steady, laying her back on their bed, running his hands lightly over her body. But now? “You know, I am not gonna break or anything,” she whispered, putting her hand to his face. “You don’t have to be so… uh…”

  “Vanilla?” he asked, his eyes taking on a wicked gleam she recognized. He ran his fingers through her hair. She sensed him shift a little, and she picked up a new scent – one she liked much better – that of Evan in full turned-on mode. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He put his lips to hers, but she turned her face away.

  “You won’t. And all this gentleness and romance and whatever else is not cutting it for me, sorry.” She pushed him up off her. “I will admit I’m not nauseous for the first time in, like, forever.” He stepped back, hand on his cock. She smiled at the sight of it. “But I have a real need, Sir,” she whispered in his ear, walking around him and running her hands down his back and ass and then up his torso. “And I need my real husband to step up and meet it.”

  He grinned, opened the top drawer of their special toy chest, and pulled out several strips of silk. “Lie down,” he said, his voice a command. “Spread your legs. And leave the rest to me.”

  “That is more like it.” She squealed when he smacked her ass hard before she crawled up on the bed and let him bind her, blindfold her, and tease her to a raging orgasm before untying her with a few flicks of his wrists and flipping her over to her hands and knees. “Yeah baby, that is way more like it,” she groaned when he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back before sliding into her, nice and deep. “Fuck me like you mean it.” She sighed as he leaned over her and bit down on her shoulder.

  He did, and then some, and as she drifted off to sleep back in her husband’s arms where she belonged, she snuggled in close. He kissed her shoulder where he had bitten earlier, making her flinch, then sigh and shiver all over. “I love you, Julie. You are my all, my everything, my wife, my lover and more… don’t ever leave me.”

  “Well, if you promise to keep fucking me like that, I guess I won’t. But don’t go vanilla on me ever again, Country Club.”

  “No problem, Daredevil.” He sighed and dropped into sleep, but she lay awake for a while, contemplating her future, more relieved than she cared to admit that, at least, for now her world was back on its axis.

  Chapter Ten

  Julie stood, stretching out her lower back, which hurt twenty-four-seven, along with her hips, which she swore she could hear stretching, creaking and popping and moving around. “Ugh,” she groaned, putting her hands on her office window, trying to relieve at least some of the pressure that built every time she sat longer than twenty minutes at a time. She’d sent Paul home at six-thirty, promising him she’d only stay another hour to finish up the quarterly sales report. He’d become a positive hovering mother hen but remained the best personal assistant a demanding boss could want.

  The last three months since Evan had moved back in had been a wild ride, both in the bedroom and out. She was tired all the time. But the second she’d lay eyes on him even after a long day, her body would zing to attention and they would fall on each other like horny teenagers. All her efforts to square the new inventory she’d acquired, listening to all sorts of advice about how to use the new warehouse, trucks, and staff she’d obtained when Cooper Distribution was finally absorbed into Dawson Associates, drained her. But she was on cloud nine about the victory and felt she had achieved a real coup. Until the reality of managing double the staff, triple the booze, and eight times the headaches descended on her, making her doubt her sanity.

  And she had finally allowed her mother to make contact. Evan had held her hand as she called, spoke, choked out the news about her marriage and pregnancy, then handed the phone over to him before dashing into the bathroom to hyperventilate. Since then she had agreed to meet the woman, and the three of them were to have coffee the following morning all nice and cozy and normal. Julie still was not convinced her mother deserved it. But Evan was. And she wanted what he wanted knowing he had her best interests at heart.

  She and Sara remained close, which was a fun outlet. The girl-time they shared was a real departure for her, although they spent a lot of that time tiptoeing around Julie’s aggravation with her friend regarding Jack. Those two still could not seem to figure themselves out, and frankly, Julie believed Sara was over half the problem. But she kept her lip zipped and always enjoyed the woman’s company – she was a hell of a lot of fun, and her little girl, Katie, was all kinds of adorable. Spoiling the precocious kid with pedicures and shopping trips had become almost as fun for Julie as work used to be.

  She sighed and looked out onto the desolate landscape of winter in Michigan. Now two-thirds of the way through her pregnancy, she could feel the bitchiness descending over her like a pall. The nights were becoming sleepless even after Evan fucked her silly, many times collapsing in a sweaty heap and crying “uncle.” The days were uncomfortable and borderline painful but busier than ever which she supposed was good, leaving her little time to fret, worry, or complain. Much.

  She turned, and her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the shadow in the doorway. A shiver slithered down her spine. Cursing herself for forgetting, yet again, to arm the alarm after Paul left the building, she looked around for her phone and spotted it on the desk across the room.

  The tall, handsome blond man was dressed in a blue suit, white shirt, and a light gray tie that matched his eyes. She frowned, tried to look nonchalant about the fact Damian Slate, the man her husband would strangle on the spot, stood in her office. And not a soul was left in the building.

  “Can I help you?” She strolled to her desk to be within arm’s reach of her phone.

  He smiled and took a seat, reaching the device before she did and tucking it into his inner jacket pocket. “Just a moment of your time is all I require.” His English accent had deepened, as had the lines around his ice-cold eyes. “Please. Sit. You look positively done in.”

  She shot him a serious glare she hoped portrayed strong and unafraid, and not cowering and terrified, and sat behind her desk. He placed a large envelope on it, pushed it towards her, then sat back, crossing his legs as if settling in for a cozy chit-chat. “What is it?”

  “Evidence, my love. Your precious Evan is not who you think he is.”

  She stared at it, unwilling to play his game. He was a master at it, however, and his dominating personality oozed around th
e room, snaking into her brain and making her quivery. She put a hand on her stomach, an involuntary gesture she’d been doing a lot lately. He cocked his head.

  “My sincere congratulations on the impending joy. Now,” he pointed, his voice dropping nearly an octave and making her gulp, “open the fucking envelope.” He took her phone from his pocket and glanced at it once before dropping it back into its hiding place.

  She tried to roll her eyes, shrug it off, but she tugged the thing close, undid the clasp and opened it. It contained three eight-by-ten black-and-white photos and what looked like a bunch of printed emails. Heat lit her face, rose up her ears and into her scalp. Julie had a fair bit of experience compartmentalizing. She’d done it for years, blocking the horror of months of sexual abuse from her mother’s husband. The ensuing years she spent staring forward, tunnel-visioned on her own future and ignoring her mother’s near-constant pleas for forgiveness, trained her to sometimes ignore the obvious. But the images seared her retinas now, captured in huge, very clear, non-grainy black and white, were of her tall, handsome husband, smiling from ear to ear with his arm around… she squinted… some short, dark-haired girl holding a baby.

  She glanced up at Damian, her brain boiling with confusion, early anger, and not a little bit of fear. Then she slid the next photo out. The girl was gazing up at Evan with adoration as he held the baby in his arms and smiled down at it. Finally, the last one made her shake and her heart nearly cease for a few seconds. The girl sat in a chair, clutching her brat, and Evan – the man she trusted with her very soul – stood with his arm on her shoulder, and they stared intently at some guy who appeared to be holding an open book.

  She slammed the photos down on the desk. Something was not right. This couldn’t be her husband.

  Damian tapped the stack of printouts with a long finger, staring at her. She tried to swallow past the giant lump in her throat. The words on the email blurred, but she caught the gist.