“If you love her, you’re allowed to be happy. I know I haven’t met her, but she sounds like a great person. And I know her chats with you helped so much while you were deployed. She brought the calm to you. Isn’t it just possible this was all a big coincidence, and she’s just as scared as you are? Not every woman thinks the way Blair does. Not everyone sees gain from someone else’s misery.”
She was right, and he knew it. He’d reacted like a jerk, without even giving her the chance to explain. Maybe there was an easy explanation.
“Give it a chance. If things had been different, I’d want two parents for Suzanna. I know you would have given anything for a dad. I would have. Don’t push her away because of assumptions and hurt feelings from the past.”
“When did you get to be so smart?”
“I’ve been growing up while you were out there saving the country. Parenting is its own crash course in life.”
“Love you, Nat.”
“Love you too, D.”
***
With the truck loaded with boxes, Dwayne drove Veronica home. Their quick dinner at the restaurant, set up by Skye so they could make the formal announcement, was a quiet affair. Everyone put on smiles, but behind the façade, there was the underlying knowledge that this wasn’t the typical pregnancy announcement. And after a quick trip to Madison’s place, they were on the way home.
Home. Their home now. She’d officially agreed to move in with him before the wedding. Though the date for that little detail hadn’t been decided. When he’d broached the subject, she’d said she wanted to check with her aunt and uncle, and didn’t he want to ask his family their plans?
No. He wanted to drag her down to the courthouse and get the thing done now. He hated loose ends, and their lack of wedding was a loose end that itched in all the wrong places. But he had to remind himself, just getting her to agree to move in was a big step. There was no way things would progress positively if they couldn’t at least be together to figure them out.
Which reminded him. Time to start looking for houses to rent. It didn’t make sense to buy at this point, when he’d likely be PCSing in another year or two. But there were always houses to lease around a military base. And he couldn’t see bringing home his baby to his bachelor-style apartment.
It all came crashing down on him. A baby and—hopefully—a wife. In six months. Busy year.
“The dinner was nice,” Veronica said, staring out the window. He couldn’t tell if she wanted him to respond or if it was just something to fill the void. So he took a chance.
“Yeah. Skye’s a sweetheart to set that all up.” He thought back for a minute. “You didn’t eat much though. You feeling okay?”
She stared at him with big eyes, and he realized it was the first time he’d directly asked about her pregnancy since the doctor’s office.
Covering her stomach with one hand, she gave him a smile that looked a little more like a grimace. “Still sensitive, but overall, getting better. Or at least, that’s what I think. Then out of nowhere, a bad day will hit me.”
She could have been describing his assimilation problem word for word. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that, with his relationship with Veronica up in the air and the new changes in his life all coming to a head at once, he was struggling a little to keep up with everything. And his mind was playing tricks again.
It was the exact wrong time for a freak-out. Not with a new baby on the way.
They pulled up to the apartment and she reached behind the seat for her bag. After he lifted her down from the truck, he almost grabbed her hand on instinct. But that wasn’t a good idea. She was upset with him, and he was upset at… what? Her? The world? Himself? He still hadn’t worked that through in his mind yet. But when he opened the door to his apartment, he couldn’t deny a big urge to sweep her off her feet and play the old-fashioned knight carrying his bride over the altar.
He resisted the knightly urge. With her stomach unsettled, the gesture likely would have resulted in her getting sick, anyway. Nice way to spend the first night of cohabitating.
She walked around the living room slowly, pivoting in her little silver flats. Brushing a hand over the top of his sofa, touching the corner of a picture, eyes soaking in every inch of his apartment, as if she hadn’t been there before. As if she hadn’t spent night after night with him. Then her shoulders tensed up, like she took a deep breath, and she turned to look at him with a resolute face.
“I need to ask you something.”
“That sounds ominous. But go ahead.” He took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the armchair, then shoved his hands in his pants pocket like what she was about to ask had zero bearing on his mind. What a lie.
“Where do I sleep?”
Okay, that was definitely not what he was thinking. “In bed?”
“Is that a question?”
“I don’t know, is it?”
She blew out an exasperated breath, one he could relate to. “Stop that. I just don’t…”
She lifted her hands and let them fall again. “I don’t know what we’re doing here. There. I said it. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know where you are, I don’t know if you only asked me to marry you because you felt like you had to, if you’re upset with me, if I’ve ruined everything. I just… don’t… know.”
The uncertainty in her eyes came close to breaking his heart. But he held firm. Blair had played the same game, and he just couldn’t go through that with Veronica. Putting in the extra effort to appear nonchalant, he said, “You can sleep wherever you want, darlin’. I wouldn’t mind company in bed, but if that’s not what you want, then there’s a guest room. Or the couch. Whatever you want.”
“Oh. Okay.” She grabbed her bag from the sofa and headed down the hall. A door closed, though he had no clue which one. Probably the guest bedroom, since he was basically an asshole and even he didn’t want to spend time with himself.
You’ve got to get over it. Veronica isn’t Blair.
But she could be. And if Blair got the drop on you, anyone could.
It was cynical, it was harsh. But it was true. Could he seriously risk going through that again? With Veronica, a woman he was half in love with already?
If the entire thing turned out to be a scene, it might kill him.
***
Veronica dropped the bag on the mattress and sat next to it, crossing her legs. What a picture she must look. In her nice dress, sitting on a twin bed in a guest room by herself while her, what, fiancé? Whoever he was, while he did who knew what all by himself.
Fiancé. She tasted the word and didn’t care for it much. Though the flavor might have more to do with the situation than the person. Or maybe the person’s actions…
So what did she do now? Unpack, apparently. She started taking things out of her bag, setting them down on the desk. It was a pathetic assortment of stuff she’d shoved in there last minute before heading to dinner. The rest of her things were in boxes Dwayne had unloaded in the dining alcove for the moment. Where should she unpack them? His room? Had he made space for her in the closet, in the dressers?
Questions sucked.
She slammed the shampoo down harder than necessary. No. That was just bull. Things hadn’t started off in the most conventional manner, true. But they were engaged… sort of. And she loved him. And he… well. He something. He cared enough about the baby at least to want to marry her. And that said something. She wasn’t going to just sit in the guest room like some child being punished. If their relationship—the family they had started—stood a chance, someone had to fight for it. And he wasn’t ready to go to battle for them yet. So she would.
With more anger than conviction, she flung the door open and went to find him, prepared to give him a piece of her mind. But the anger burned out quickly when she found him passed out, facedown, on his bed
. Still in his pants, shirt, and shoes from dinner. Her heart gave up the irritation and made way for compassion.
With quiet, smooth movements, she untied one shoe, then the other, placing them silently on the carpet at the end of the bed. There was nothing she could do about his pants and shirt, not the way he was lying facedown. But she could turn off the bedside lamp and leave him to rest for a while.
But the click of the lamp was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. So fast, she didn’t see him move until it was too late, as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to the bed next to him. Her mind flashed to that day, months earlier, when he’d pinned her to the couch in an unconscious haze of fury. The blank look in his eyes, the awareness that just wasn’t there.
But this was different. Even in the dim light from the moon, she knew he was wide awake, fully aware. His eyes weren’t blank, but full of something very real. Something that looked like hunger. Desire.
Something she could easily relate to. Cupping his face in her hands, she smiled in welcome. And he took it. Took her mouth in a kiss that was almost as fierce and possessive as he used to be before…
No. She couldn’t do that.
“Dwayne.” She breathed it, didn’t mean for it to escape. But if he heard, he didn’t respond, merely working his way down her neck to her collarbone, the hot trail left behind on her skin cooling in the air and making her nipples pucker under her dress. One large hand moved her until she was on her side, then unzipped her dress until it gaped in the front and he could pull it down. But he didn’t pull it off.
Instead he reached under her bra and fondled one breast, lifting until it pulled out over the cup. Then repeated the process with the other. His knee dragged up, forcing her legs to widen, until he rubbed against her center.
She felt unbelievably decadent, lying there so exposed while still in her dress. Somehow, the parts still covered made it seem even more naughty. She wanted him—God, she wanted him—but he was determined to take his time. Make her suffer. For the pleasure, or for punishment, she wasn’t quite sure yet.
Slipping his hand down, he fumbled and worked until he caught the elastic of her panties with his fingers and tugged down, lifting his knee only a moment to pull them completely from her body.
“Bend your knees.” He spoke into the soft skin of her breast, and she automatically shifted to do what he commanded. Anything he gave, she would grab at.
With his left hand he hooked under her right knee and brought it up as far as it would go. “Hold this.”
And when she would have asked why, he answered without words. Not that he could have spoken while his mouth was there. It felt so wrong and so good all at once, and she almost exploded with the combined pleasure and embarrassment. But pleasure won out, slowly edging any self-consciousness to the side as he worked her with expert knowledge until she was sobbing his name. Crying out to whoever would listen that she couldn’t take more.
But he knew better, and he went on. And she did, until her mind seemed to float away from her body on a haze of hedonism. Vaguely she realized he was working his way back up her body, light kisses, barely there caresses. But he was still fully dressed. For that matter, she mostly was herself. She reached with one heavy arm to undo his tie, to help him start the process, but he captured her fingers and moved them away.
Reaching in his nightstand, he pulled out a condom.
“Um, I think…” She waved at it, not sure what more to say. How did you phrase the question on your wedding night about protection?
He stared at the foil in his fingers for a moment, as if not even understanding how it got there. “Ah. Right. Yeah, that was just automatic.” But he didn’t set it down right away.
She waited, and waited a little longer. But it was like he was frozen, unable to move or make a choice. Put it down, or use it. She finally ended his decision-making by gently removing the packet from his fingers and placing it on the nightstand. His eyes tracked her every move.
“You sure?”
She nodded. Why wouldn’t she be? The damage was done, as far as a child was concerned. It seemed a little silly not to trust him now. Maybe that was naive of her, but then so be it. She couldn’t go into the marriage with anything less than her all.
But Dwayne could. She knew even as he shifted between her legs that he wasn’t completely there. Mentally of course. But emotionally, the sweetness was gone. The sigh of contentment when he slid in was missing. Every move, every word he breathed, every touch felt calculated for pleasure. Not an expression of love. It was a choreographed dance, nothing more. And even as he found his own release minutes later, rolled over, and pulled her to his side, she knew a little part of him was completely detached.
It would be an uphill battle. But she’d work through it.
Chapter 24
Veronica woke to a completely cold bed. Not a hint of Dwayne’s warmth. She cracked an eye open and saw it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. He left for work early, but usually not this early.
She got up and found one of his sweatshirts to slip on as a makeshift nightgown, since the thing hung almost to her knees. Before opening the bedroom door, she gathered the too-long sleeves to her chest and inhaled his scent, using it like lavender might calm the senses. Then she quietly tiptoed out into the hallway.
After a quick peek at the bathroom door—open, no Dwayne—and the guest room where his desk was—also empty—she padded down the hall to the living room and found him.
With only one side lamp on, he was bathed in an eerie yellow glow, and shadows. It almost made the simple picture of getting ready for work more menacing. More serious. He sat on the couch, lacing up his boots. Unaware she was in the hallway, she had the opportunity to watch his fingers at work. As they manipulated the thin strings around each hook and expertly knotted them with efficient, fast movements, it wasn’t hard to remember what those fingers felt like only hours before over her body. She shivered, and must have made some small sound because his head snapped up and he spotted her immediately.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I… no. I just woke up and realized you were gone.” She looked at the clock for emphasis. “Early morning at work?”
“Yeah.” He finished the last knot, pulled tight, then stood. Six foot four inches of camouflage. And he was hers. “I don’t really have the time right now to take off, sorry. Things going on at work.”
“Things. Right.” She thought for a moment, then decided to ask anyway. “How long have you been up?”
“Few hours.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, like there wasn’t a massive wall between them.
“Did I—”
“No.” Short, curt, the reply left no room for arguments. “You didn’t. I just needed to get up and move around.”
A lightbulb went on. “Did you have a bad dream?” He didn’t answer, but even in the dim light she could see a muscle twitch. “You can wake me up, you know. If you have a bad dream. If you need to talk about it.”
“I’m fine.”
He might be, but she wasn’t. But she nodded just the same. He brushed past her to open the fridge door, grab a bottle of water, and shut it. “I’ll be home later. Not sure when. I’ll text you and let you know.” He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead—robotic almost—and grabbed a gym bag before walking out the front door and closing it quietly behind him.
It wasn’t even dawn yet on their first day of living together, and already she started to feel like a failure.
***
“Tim must be a liar. You’re over here way too much for married life to be any good.” Jeremy killed his beer and set the empty bottle on the table in front of him.
“Not married yet.” Dwayne rolled his eyes.
“But you’re engaged, and there are plans in the works, and you’re living together. It’s just semantics.”
Time to deflect.
“What’s Tim got to do with this?” Dwayne rubbed a hand over his head and fought the urge to tug at his hair… what little of it he had. Why was everyone so damn concerned with his relationship? First Madison’s texting him to see how things are going—as if she couldn’t just ask Veronica herself—and now Jeremy. What the hell?
Jeremy shrugged and kicked back in his recliner. “It used to be the three of us, you know? Then he married Skye. Then he fell in love with her.”
Dwayne snickered at the ass-backwards way he described it, though he spoke the truth.
“And now he’s not around as much. I figure, if it sucked, he’d duck out more often. But this is the third time this week you’ve followed me home from work like a lost freaking puppy instead of racing home to your soon-to-be-wife. So really, can’t be all that great, can it?”
He concentrated on loosening his grip on the beer. Crushing the glass would definitely not make him appear as sane as he would like. “I think that’s just a matter of opinion. Besides, aren’t you and Madison basically living together right now? Why are you always over here at your old apartment? I think that answers your questions.”
“We’re not officially moved in yet. Veronica still has some stuff left over, and I’m taking my time. Plus, my lease isn’t up here for another three months, so we’re not in a rush to get there. We know that’s the end goal, and we’re doing it smoothly. It works for us.” Jeremy shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Dwayne said nothing.
Jeremy shook his head. “You’re a dick, you know that?”
“What for this time?”
“Ha.” Jeremy reached over and pulled the beer away, lifting a brow when it took more than a little effort to pry from his fingers. He set it down with his empty one on the table. “For proposing like that.” Dwayne gave him a look, and Jeremy shrugged. “Madison told me. Veronica told her. Word gets around in our little group. Get used to it.”
That wasn’t expected. He reared back, confused. “I’m sorry—doing the right thing makes me a dick? If you missed the memo, she’s pregnant.”
Officer and the Secret (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 25
