Steal You

by KD Robichaux

  I turn off the car and get out, walking around the front to open her door. She places her tiny hand in the center of mine as she stands, her eyes twinkling at me before she faces the beautiful house.

  Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of joy fills me, a giddiness I can’t remember ever feeling before. I suppose this is what it feels like for children on Christmas morning, who have parents who actually make a big deal of the holiday and get them presents, yet it’s strange, because I’m the one who’s giving the gift. I’ve never been so excited to give anyone something before, and in this moment, my heart races with eagerness. I can’t hold it in any longer. I pull her close as she takes in the house, and I lean down to whisper in her ear, “Welcome home, Lizith.”

  Her face snaps toward me, her eyes wide, her lips parted. “Home?”

  I grin, my face just now getting used to the unfamiliar expression. I hadn’t smiled much in the last eight years, but in these past two weeks, it’s been hard for me to stop. “Come inside.”

  I take her up the front porch steps and unlock the door, opening it to reveal the exquisite foyer and beyond, where a wide staircase leads to the second floor. It’s completely empty, but the walls are freshly painted with the neutral color scheme I picked out, giving Lizith a blank canvas to decorate any way she likes. We’re so like-minded I know I’ll love whatever she decides on. Her office at work could’ve been my own.

  She takes a tentative step inside, her eyes unable to land on one single thing as she tries to take it all in at once. But the look of wonder on her exquisite face lets me know she likes what she sees. She lets go of my hand to walk up to the staircase, placing her palm on the dark stained banister, gliding it up the smooth, shiny wood. Tilting her head back to look up, she turns in a slow circle, trying to see what’s behind the second-floor railing, but she decides to save that for later as she spins toward the right. She shoots me an excited grin before hurrying in that direction.

  Her movements are no longer slow and uncertain. They’re now animated and eager as she skips through the gourmet kitchen with its giant island in the center. She opens and shuts all the cabinets and drawers, laughing gleefully when she turns on the sink and the faucet immediately runs with filtered water. My heart thuds with love as I continue to watch her, taking in her beauty and her delight as she flits through the kitchen, and when she’s finished in here, I follow her, chuckling, as she dances back into the foyer and then through to the living room.

  She stops in the middle of the room and gasps, turning her amazed expression toward me before hurrying over to the wall lined with floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases. She runs her hand along one of the empty shelves and beams over at me. “Oh, Xander. How beautiful these will be filled with all our books!” She circles the room then, opening the walk-in closet near the staircase to peek inside then making her way to the other side, where the giant bay windows take up the entire far wall. “We could put cushioned window seats here,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me, and I love that she’s already making plans to turn this house into our home.

  She walks through the arched entrance and into the formal dining room, the space wide enough to fill with a huge table with as many seats as she wants. This is what I had in my head when I first toured the model of this house, because that’s how they set it up, so it surprises me when she says, “This would make a wonderful office for you, my love. We can fill it with dark wood and leather furniture, with a big desk right in the center.” She spreads her arms, indicating where she’d put it.

  “You wouldn’t want this to be our dining room?” I ask, looking around with new eyes, picturing the space as my own study.

  She giggles. “What in the world would we need a fancy big dining room for? Neither of us has any friends, unless you count your work colleagues. I certainly wouldn’t invite anyone from my work over. I’d end up stabbing our receptionist if she looked at you the way she did when you came in for your appointments.”

  I lift a brow at that. “Yeah, not quite ready for your coworkers to know about us being together, seeing how I was just there last month leaving a sample….” I halt that thought, not wanting to speak of anything negative in our new house. Only good memories inside these walls.

  Her face goes soft as she glides over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and looking up at me. “I have no problem keeping you all to myself, Xander.”

  My heart skips a beat at the overwhelming sense of love I feel rolling off of her in droves. “Good, because I am as much yours as you are mine now, little bird,” I rumble, watching her eyes fill with tears as she smiles. She shakes her head and lets out a gentle laugh, before stepping back once more.

  She leaves the room and moves into the next, one that is set up to be the laundry room. On one side are the hook-ups for the washer and dryer, and on the other are shelves, rails for hanging things, and a wide tabletop with a sink on one end. “Oh my God, Xander. This is wonderful! This will be much better than what I have now!” she exclaims, spinning and putting her palms to the table, before lifting herself to sit on top of it. She swings her legs back and forth like a giddy child.

  I saunter over to her, parting her knees and maneuvering my body to stand between them. “I taught my little bird how to keep her cage nice and clean, and after all these years of abiding by my rules on order, even without me there to praise you for your efforts, you deserve only the best of the best.”

  She crosses her ankles behind me, using the muscles of her legs to pull me tightly against her. “You’re too good to me, my keeper,” she breathes, leaning in to press her lips to mine.

  “My actions are justified, believe me. Now, would you like to look upstairs?” I nuzzle her nose with mine.

  “Yes!” she squeals, and I step back, helping her down.

  She takes off out of the utility room and runs around the house to the bottom of the steps, and I chuckle, chasing her as my little bird takes flight up the steps. I keep myself alert in case she slips in her hurry to reach the top, ready to catch her if she were to stumble, forcing myself to keep my hands off her perfect ass as it bounces in front of my face. But we make it to the second floor without a single hitch, and when she stops in the center of the landing, I nearly run into her.

  From where we’ve halted, you can see into all four bedrooms as they make a circle, the staircase coming up through the center. But instead of looking inside the empty rooms, she makes her way to one of two hallways between two of the doors. I smile when she gets to the end and sees that it opens up into a room I pictured as an entertainment area, a place to sprawl on overstuffed couches and watch television.

  “This wall would be perfect to project movies on!” she exclaims, and my smile turns into a grin when her mind goes in the same direction mine did.

  “Yes it would,” I murmur, my eyes following her as she peeks into the half-bath off to one side, and then I trail behind her as she makes her way to the second hallway. This one leads to a door at the end, a bedroom set off from the other four on this floor. It was a selling point of this house. I saw a glimpse into the future, of being able to take Lizith as loud and wild as I want, even as our children slept, none the wiser, just right down the hall. I had seen many models where the master bedroom was on a separate floor than the rest, but I didn’t like the idea of sleeping that far away from my kids, unable to hear them if they called out in the middle of the night.

  She places her hand on the doorknob but hesitates, her eyes downcast as I stand beside her, waiting for her to enter. After a moment, I hear her shuddered breath, and my heart plummets to my stomach.

  “What is it, little one?” I whisper, placing my finger under her chin and tilting her face up so I can look into her shimmering eyes.

  “There’s… there’s only one room this could be… and… and I’m—” she lets out a sob, even as her lips form a smile “—just s-so happy, my love. I’ve dreamed for so long… to be yours, really yours, where we’d live together, sharing a bedroom
. And I just can’t believe that dream is finally coming true.”

  Without another thought, I lunge, and the force I kiss her with sends her stumbling until I have her pressed against the wall. My hands dive into her hair at the back of her head, and I use my grip to turn her head how I want it, plundering her mouth with my tongue. By the time I release her, we’re both panting for breath, unable to speak at the intensity of our love for one another.

  Instead, I step away and allow her back to the door, and this time when her hand meets the knob, she spins it and pushes inward. It opens to a massive room with vaulted ceilings. Over in the far-right corner is a wide platform, two steps up, where our king size bed will go. My little bird deserves to sleep on a pedestal.

  I step to the side and lean my back against the wall to watch her take everything in. I can practically see her imagination running wild with the way she’d like to decorate it, where all the furniture will go. When she reaches the two doors on the left wall, I hear her sharp intake of air when she opens one and sees the gargantuan closet, with its rows upon rows of railings, shelves, and glass drawers. There is an island in the middle, with small drawers surrounding it for jewelry and lingerie. And one entire wall is sectioned off into cubbies, each with their own individual light, to showcase shoes and handbags. Things I plan on spoiling her with for years and years to come. My little bird has lived modestly for nearly a decade. It’s time she lives in the lap of luxury like she deserves.

  “Everything I own will only fill up one of these rails.” She giggles, and then she moves on to the wall of cubbies, sticking her hand in and wiggling her fingers under the light. “And I certainly don’t own any shoes that would merit being displayed in a spotlight,” she adds, turning her gaze at me. “We’ll put all your fancy Italian loafers in here.” She nods to herself.

  “Oh, little thing. If you think for one second that this house is the last thing I’ll ever spoil you with, you are so very wrong.” I smirk.

  She doesn’t respond. She just smiles at me coyly as she passes back through the door and opens the next one. This time, she lets out a squeal that makes me chuckle. I knew she’d love the en suite. There’s a giant Jacuzzi tub, a glass enclosed shower that takes up the entire back third of the room, and a double sink vanity, with heated floors and towel racks, and the toilet is behind its own frosted glass door.

  As she opens the little private room containing the toilet, she glances back at me shyly. “Give me a minute, my love. Nature calls. I have a pack of tissues in my purse.”

  I nod and step backward into the bedroom, closing the door. After several minutes, right when I’m about to go back in to check on her, the door finally opens, and Lizith stands in the frame with something in her hand, her eyes brimming with tears. Her lower lip trembles, and I take a step forward to embrace her. “What is it, little bird?”

  She holds out her hand, her fingers trembling, and when she places the small object in my palm, she lets out a sound that’s a cross between a sob and laugh. I pull my eyes away from her emotional state and look down at what she’s given me.

  A pregnancy test.

  With two pink lines.

  My widened eyes shoot up to her now overflowing ones, and the beauty of her face is so striking it knocks me back a step, and without realizing what’s happened until I feel her soft stomach against my cheek, I fall to my knees at her feet and wrap my arms around her hips.

  Chapter 10

  Lizith

  The past week has been an absolute dream. I took time off work at Xander’s suggestion, so I could go shopping for everything to fill our new home. He handed me his black credit card and told me to spare no expense, get anything my heart desires.

  We both decided we wanted all brand new furniture. We wanted our home to be a fresh start, somewhere with none of our past attached to it. And as anxious as I was to fill the house with a beautiful bedroom suite and overstuffed couches and all matching kitchen appliances, there was one room I couldn’t possibly wait to complete.

  The nursery.

  It was finished before the painted details even dried in any other room. I’d had a vision of my dream nursery since the moment Xander professed his desire to have children someday, back when I was still his student. And as I look inside our baby’s bedroom from where I lean against the doorjamb, I beam with pride at how perfectly my vision came to fruition.

  The dark cherry circular crib is the focal point of the room, with a white canopy hanging above it, framing it like a throne awaiting its ruler. Would it be a little prince or princess to fill the spot? I have no preference; the only thing that matters to me is that our baby is healthy. I have more hopes of them looking like their father than I care whether it’s a boy or girl.

  The nursery also contains a changing table, a rocking chair, and a wardrobe, all in the same dark cherry wood as the crib. I kept everything else gender-neutral, with cream bedding. There are decorations here and there, using a houndstooth pattern and little Scottie dogs wearing red collars. I’ve always loved the look of houndstooth, but never felt I was classy enough to pull it off. After all, I spend my days in scrubs. But this child will be treated like royalty, a future king or queen, so I finally felt I could fill a space with my favorite pattern.

  I also enjoyed working on our living room downstairs. Xander had wasted no time hiring movers to pack up all of our belongings that wasn’t furniture and having it all delivered here. It was so relaxing, almost meditative, opening each box of our books and filling the built-ins with the titles. We had duplicates of several, and it made me smile knowing we could’ve been reading identical books at the same time throughout the years of our separation.

  I didn’t want a TV in the living room. We so very rarely watched it anyways, so I decided to have the only one in the house upstairs in the space I’d made into the entertainment room. Instead, I filled the rest of the living room with two giant, cream-colored L-shape couches put together to make a U, with a huge ottoman in the center. I covered it in tons of colorful throw pillows.

  On the one wall without windows or shelves, I painted my favorite quote, Emily Brontë’s “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” And on the one-foot tall space between the top of the bookcases and ceiling, I scrawled, George R. R. Martin’s “A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” Xander had practically tackled me to the fluffy couch when I’d uncovered his eyes with my hands and he took in the elegant calligraphy, kissing me over and over and telling me how absolutely perfect it was.

  Finally, something I absolutely adored because it was all Xander, just outside the living room, by the staircase leading to the second floor, was a metal suit of armor. It stood there, tall and proud, looking like a guard ready to defend our castle. Unfortunately, with it being an antique, it had been slightly damaged in the move from Xander’s old place to here. Nothing major, it could be easily fixed. The little screw that held the knight’s staff in place was now loose inside its hole. A couple times now, the staff has fallen. I have been meaning to get a new screw, one that isn’t stripped, to replace the old one, but with all the other things to worry about, it hasn’t been high on my priority list. Already, I’m having to jot things down in order to remember them. Pregnancy brain is already in full effect.

  One thing I don’t have to write down is my lunch date with my dad. I haven’t seen him in quite some time, both of us always working. He was an English professor on Xander’s campus. Soon after I took the pregnancy test, I expressed to Xander that we needed to tell my dad the happy news. His face had lost all its color, and I’d giggled and told him it would be fine. We were all adults now, so my dad certainly wouldn’t hurt Xander for impregnating his daughter, even if it was out of wedlock.

  Hurrying out the door and locking it behind me, I hop in my car and make my way to where I’m meeting my dad. I wait in the downtown café, staring dreamily out the window I’m seated beside. It’s a rainy day, but that’s the be
st kind. Darkness consumed me since the day I met Xander at eighteen, and it is where I always find myself wanting to be.

  When I asked my father to meet me here, he’d been surprised, asking me what was wrong. I’d laughed his worry away, telling him I had some good news I wanted to tell him in person. But now, as I touch my still-flat stomach, knowing our baby is growing inside, I find myself slipping into a bit of nervous jitters. No one in my life ever knew about Xander. I never made friends after I fell in love, because I was consumed with Xander. I didn't need nor did I desire to make any. They wouldn't have understood. No one will, and I suppose my father won’t either.

  It’s not just Xander’s mature age; it’s also the fact that he and Dad were colleagues before he retired. My knee twitches under the table. I wore jeans and boots today; my cream, loose-fitting sweater hangs off my right shoulder, and the thin strap of my tank shows. My hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail cascading down my back in loose curls. I take a small sip of my hot tea when I see my father appear at the entrance. He looks around a little and I wave when his eyes find me.

  His hair is all gray now, even his mustache he recently started sporting in his retirement. As he gets closer, his warm brown eyes lift with his gentle smile. My dad and mom were the only friends I truly had. When my mother first died of ovarian cancer, he and I relied heavily on one another, because we both lost our prized best friend. But then he drifted, and I was too lost to figure out how to bring him back.

  “Baby girl. How are you?” We exchange kisses on the cheek and I take a seat, watching him adjust into his before I respond.

  “I’m good, Daddy. Just busy with work. How are you? How’s retirement?” I smirk, sliding him his black coffee I ordered.

  Smiling, he nods, taking two sugar packets from the bowl on the table and ripping them open. “Still new. I am adjusting to it, though.”

  “That’s good. It feels like the year went by fast,” I respond, lifting the tea to my lips and taking a sip.