by W. Winters
No one’s there.
“I have a question then. What if Seth doesn’t want me involved? That’s the only thing I worry about. What if he wants to leave with your son and go back to the West Coast? What if he takes him… what are we calling him? Have you thought of any names?”
I answer, “Little prince.”
I can barely focus on her question, still struck with the image of the blonde who reminds me so much of Cami.
Fuck, I really am going crazy.
“Well, what then? What if he leaves?”
“Seth isn’t a loner. He doesn’t do well alone, so that won’t happen.” I surprise myself with my quick answer and confidence, but it’s true. It’s simply not in his nature. Neither of us likes to be alone.
“And you’d be fine… if Seth is fine, him being on his own with the baby?”
“Yes. I just know Seth will need help, is all…”
I imagine Seth holding a little baby boy. He’s always been so protective and he’s nothing like the reckless youth he used to be. “He’ll make a good dad. He wants to be a dad.”
“So you just want me to be the cool aunt?” she jokes and the dark clouds around her slowly fade. “That was the plan anyway.”
“I guess…” I can’t help but smile just a hint of a grin. “Seth sometimes doesn’t respond well. Like the last time I left. And I just want to make sure everything will be all right.”
A sarcastic laugh leaves her in a huff as she lifts up the menu, her eyes wide with humor. “Is that what you call it?”
She has to keep talking before I fully grasp what she’s getting at.
“Jase told me about what he did when you left him last time. Not that it was… not that it’s the same.”
“Right,” I answer the single word, any bit of hunger vanishing as the conversation progresses.
“Marcus called him the black widower in the letters,” she comments, her gaze on the menu.
“They’re still going through them?” I question her. Truth be told, I’m curious to read them. I’m more anxious for Delilah to show up. Any day now. And I’m reluctant to quit for that one reason. Delilah has to know who Marcus is. Or at least what he looks like. I know Seth told me not to concern myself with it, but she could help them if only she told them—or me—who Marcus is or anything about how to find him.
“Yeah, there are a lot of them, years’ worth, and a lot of decoding.”
It’s quiet as we both stare down at the menus. The ding of the front door opening, the din of chatter and clink of silverware on dishes is our backdrop.
“I’ll put it in the paperwork,” I tell her, taking in a deep breath and feeling more at peace. More ready for whatever may happen. “That you’ll have secondary custody.”
“Paperwork?”
“I want my affairs in order.” Everything from a will to life insurance is updated. Absolutely every I dotted and T crossed. “We’ll sign them on Thursday.”
Dropping the menu, I stare back at Bethany, only to see that look back on her face, the solemn one.
“Thursday it is then.”
I nod in agreement and say, “Thursday.”
It’s easy to talk about some things with Bethany and some things with Seth. Other things are best to keep to myself.
Tossing the keys onto the foyer table, I take in the crowded living room. Boxes and more cardboard boxes filled with things from my old apartment are taking up so much space, and here I am, adding more bags to the mess.
“Seth?” I call out and the plastic crinkles as I set the last bag down with the rest of them.
My feet ache and my back feels a bit like shit, to put it eloquently, but there’s so much work to do.
“Babe?” I call out louder and peer down the hallway, which is lined by boxes too.
There’s a single light on down the hall, coming from the room that we decided would be the nursery.
He always calls out when I’m home. It’s odd. I know his mind is elsewhere with everything going on but still.
My steps are careful as I walk quietly down the hall. Thoughts of the blonde, of Marcus, of every bad thought that keeps me up at night make me second-guess going down the hall at all.
The faint thuds in my chest get harsher and I call out, my voice a bit shaky, “Seth.”
The sight of him, poking his head out of the room, his brow furrowed and a headphone dangling from one ear while the other’s still firmly in place eases the fear that was running through me.
“You all right?” he questions me, concern changing to protectiveness as he strides confidently down the hall, taking the earbuds out completely.
“Yeah, I just… I’m home.” I stumble over my words, feeling foolish, but when I say I’m home and Seth’s eyes light up, his hard features soften and he leans down, both hands finding their place on my lower back, his lips brushing against mine… well there’s nothing foolish about that.
With my hands against his hard muscles, everything inside of me melts. A small hum escapes me when he breaks the short-lived kiss but then bends down to nip my neck. My head falls back and I could stay there just with him, in a crowded hallway full of boxes, forever.
“Let me show you what I’ve been doing.” He’s too eager to move me, even though my feet are planted firmly where they are in protest.
I let him lead me away, taking my hand. His is so strong, so large it wraps wholly around mine.
“It’s paint that’s safe for babies. That’s what the clerk said. And for you,” Seth informs me before the room comes fully into view.
“It’s mostly dried,” he says and lets go of my hand as I walk into the brightly lit bedroom that smells faintly of fresh paint. The former modern fan has been replaced with one that has alternating blue- and white-colored blades. A dark navy blue compared to the pale blue on the far wall, the one with the bay window.
I can’t speak as I take it all in. The pile of cardboard in the one corner, the newly built whitewashed crib and matching dresser. I almost step on a screwdriver; Seth grabs my waist to pull me back. Pulling me into his embrace, warm and strong and everything I could ever want.
“I know it’s a mess, but I’ll clean it up tonight after I finish putting the rest together.”
“It’s so beautiful. I love it. You did all this?” I say and turn in his embrace, still stunned and so overwhelmed.
“Yeah, I needed something to do.” His answer comes with a handsome smile, a charming one, but it doesn’t reach his pale blue eyes.
“You all right?”
He starts to say yes, I can hear it without the word even being spoken, but shifting his gaze to an empty box that needs to be broken down, he leaves me where I am and gets to work, doing just that, breaking down the cardboard with a box cutter so it lays flat.
“I’m good with us. Good with this. Just,” he pauses and takes in a deep breath, stretching out his shoulders with his back to me. The white shirt stretches tight over his shoulders and it’s then that I see a bit of paint he got on it. Seth looks handsome in suits, but he was made to be blue collar. In those jeans, with those muscles. No suit, expensive fabric and tailored perfectly or not, is justified to hide all that.
“Just what?” I ask him and make myself busy too, grabbing the stack of white wicker baskets laying on the corner of the floor by other bags of baby items and lining them up on the dresser. There are a few empty plastic bags scattered around the room, so I pick them each up, balling them up and putting the smaller ones inside of the largest.
“I’m messed up right now,” he admits, his voice lower than usual.
I pause what I’m doing, watching him as he keeps working, not looking back at me.
“Can I do anything?” I offer, silently praying, no—begging, God please let there be something I can do. I hate seeing him like this.
“No,” he answers, sitting back on his heels, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. I watch as he takes a moment to look at the crib, a genuine smile slipping onto his face, but i
t’s gone in a moment. With his head hung low, he grabs another box and continues what he was doing.
“What’s wrong?” I dare to ask, not bothering to do anything now. Instead I find a clear spot in the corner of the room, sitting on the floor and trying to get comfortable.
The second my ass hits the ground, Seth looks up. “I ordered that rocker that matches the crib. The one you wanted,” he tells me and my heart does a little flip. “It’s delayed but it’ll be here next weekend.”
I love him like this. For some reason, it gets me all choked up and my eyes glaze over a bit when I smile and whisper my thanks. “That can’t be what’s wrong, though? A rocking chair getting you like this?” I try to keep it light. My arms wrap around my knees and I curve my back, stretching out my sore muscles.
“Marcus told me to do something I don’t want to do.”
His answer both surprises me and sends alarm shooting through me. That cautious feeling that came over me when I first came home, comes back with full force.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you and I don’t want you to stress. I just need you to know that I’m off right now, and I’m doing my best to be here for you how you need me. If I seem out of it, it’s because of that, not because of us. I love us. I want to be here for you.”
“Well why you?” The second question comes out even faster. Why is Marcus involved? Why is he telling Seth to do anything? I hate him in this moment. He doesn’t scare me. That’s what happens when anger takes over. Nothing scares you when you’re angry.
“Delilah will come back to the center—” I can’t finish because Seth cuts me off.
“Babygirl,” he says and pauses, crawling over to where I am to put his hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “I promise you, I’ll figure it out. I just don’t like what I have to do.”
My inhale is unsteady until he leans down and kisses my cheek. My eyes close and when they do, he kisses me tenderly, surprising me when his lips mold to mine.
He breaks the kiss, and my eyes stay closed as he whispers into the warm air between us, “That’s what I needed. That’s all I need.”
The cool air surrounds me the moment he leaves me, going back to piling the last of the cardboard before grabbing a box that holds some other sort of crib that we’re supposed to have. One that’s portable and rocks.
“I have more too,” I tell him and force myself to get up and get the bags so I can organize all the little things in drawers and baskets.
Seth is quiet as I leave, but he looks over his shoulder to give me a look that warms me from head to toe. It’s the kind of look where you know the other person wants you, that they love you, and that if they could, they’d lay with you forever.
My fingers brush against my lips when I get to the hall; I can still feel his kiss there. And I know I’m blushing because my cheeks are warm.
We work in silence for a little while, me taking things out of the bags and plopping them into the newly designated baskets for such items. Binkies, rattles, bath toys. I did end up buying nearly half of the ones on that display.
“Oh.” The sight of the bath toys makes my eyes go wide when I remember.
“What? Are you okay?” Seth answers quick and I’d laugh at the look on his face if it wasn’t so heartwarming.
“He kicked today,” I answer him and all those emotions come back.
His gaze moves to my lower belly. “If he does it again, I’ll tell you,” I offer and a handsome grin stretches across his face.
He crawls over to me, such an odd thing for a powerful man like him to do. Lowering his lips to my belly and slipping his hands up my shirt, he whispers for little prince to wake up and give him a kick.
He jokes that it’s not fair that “Mom” got to feel it without him. He called me Mom.
I wish he was the biological father. I wish there was no backup plan needed and I knew for certain everything was going to be just fine.
But even if those wishes don’t come true, I still feel so damn lucky. At that thought, Seth pulls back, his hands still on my belly, just a split second after a small kick lands near my ribs.
Seth’s stubbled jaw drops in awe. “He did it. That was him?” he asks me.
Nodding my head, I whisper, yeah, and watch him watch my belly, telling our son to do it again.
He doesn’t, but that only prods Seth to kiss my belly. Right where the kick was.
“Thought he might take the chance to get me.” He mumbles the joke and it makes me laugh.
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course.”
I can’t stop myself from asking as he rubs soothing circles on my bump, “Why can’t we smile like this all the time? Just have this forever?” It was meant to be rhetorical, but Seth answers me.
“Because I am terrified to lose you. And I have a lot of reasons to believe I might.”
“If it’s up to me, you won’t. You know I’m a fighter.” I barely whisper my promise.
He only smiles at me before kissing my belly and then the tip of my nose.
“I love you.”
He responds with a hand splayed across my lower stomach, “I love us.”
“God is so unfair,” I groan.
“Why?”
“Because you’re fucking perfect.”
He’s on me in an instant. His lips hot against mine, his hands traveling down the curve of my waist and then lower.
“Seth,” I say and his name is a gasp on my lips, stolen between a heated kiss. Emotions swirl with an ever-present desire and all my sadness drowns in it.
Every nerve ending between my legs sparks with recognition and need.
My breath is his, his mouth never leaving mine, even as his forearm braces my back. Lowering me to the ground.
Desperation would have me ripping his clothes off, needing to be one with him in this very instant. Every second is torturous as Seth does just the opposite.
His fingers barely graze my skin as he undresses me slowly, one piece at a time. And he does the same for himself, not letting me move an inch beneath him. With his body above mine, I’m never cold, always warmed and protected.
If his lips ever leave mine, they travel down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, leaving a tender trail that’s ravenous just the same.
“I need you,” I whimper and Seth pulls back, staring down at me with complete devotion. There’s a sadness that swirls deep in the depths of his gaze, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. His voice is filled with wretched emotion when he says, “I wish I could go back and tell you every day that I loved you. Every day.”
“Seth,” I say, trying to comfort him, but when my hands cup his strong jaw, he takes them by the wrist. He kisses my palms and then plants them above my head. Lowering his lips to mine, he whispers, “Know that if I have one regret in this life, it’s that I didn’t tell you I loved you every single day I could have.”
My fingers spear in his hair, but before I can give him a response, he devours me as only Seth can.
He enters me in one swift motion. My neck arches as the sweet pain of being stretched stirs with the hungered need for more.
I wish I could meet his pace, but he alternates between deep, slow thrusts and a pistoning every time I come close to the edge. He doesn’t hold back like I expect him to when I get there. He forces me over, screaming out his name as my orgasm tears through me. And then he slows, pushing himself deeper until he’s pressed against my back wall, groaning his need for release in the crook of my neck.
Over and over he takes me, until my throat is sore from crying out his name and my body trembles with overwhelming pleasure.
Seth
“I want to ask you something,” I say and my voice comes out stronger than I’d like, breaking up the peaceful silence. Her eyes open and she peers up at me through her thick lashes. I knew she wasn’t sleeping. Neither of us have been able to sleep, and for good reason. We have these moments that are pure happiness, but then realit
y dampens them.
She rolls on her side, the bed groaning as she does and the dim light kissing along her bare skin emphasizes every curve as she turns to give me her full attention.
“Yes?” Her barely spoken question fills up the master bedroom.
I’ve never been anxious to ask her anything. Never in my life. But the truth she has for me could cut me deeper than any knife would.
“You’ve been asking me lots of things. A lot of hard questions.” I’m fully aware that I’m stalling. I fucking hate what this situation has done to me.
“I know. I promise I’ve asked all of them. No more hard questions.” She promises me as if she’s done something wrong by asking them.
Licking my lower lip, I settle my hand on her lower back over the thin sheet and kiss the tip of her nose.
With my forehead resting against hers I whisper, “You can ask me anything you want, whenever you want. Hard or not.”
She nods ever so slightly and then lifts up her lips, kissing the tip of my nose just as I’ve done to her.
“What is it?” she asks.
“The father… do you know who he is?” Although we’re both so still, and the room itself is eerily quiet, my pulse races and my blood rushes in my ears.
“I have an idea. I just haven’t reached out.” She reaches for the sheet, bringing it up higher like I knew she would. Putting anything she can between herself and that question. “I don’t plan on it until after the baby’s here.”
“Do you have to?” I ask her and there’s not an ounce of anger or authority there. It’s a simple question, one that aches inside my chest. I don’t let her hear it in my voice, or see it on my expression, but I know she knows. She always knows.
“I haven’t decided,” she whispers quietly. The vulnerability that I keep hidden away, she wears openly. I know if she does, she’ll never hear back. But still, I don’t want him to be on her mind. I just want it to be us. Only us for her.
Readjusting on the bed, I pull her closer to me and kiss her gently. Keeping my eyes closed, I ask her, “Did you enjoy it? What you had with him? Or any of the men you were with while we weren’t together?”
