The Complete Retrieval Duet

by Martinez, Aly

  The door cracked, and Elisabeth’s head poked out.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her cheeks still damp from crying.

  I ignored her question and pointed to the mirror with the plate. “What the fucking hell is that?”

  Her head twisted to the side, her lip curling with attitude as she answered, “A mirror.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  She swung the door open and propped a shoulder on the jamb. “Well, originally, it was an effort to make this tiny hallway feel bigger. But it didn’t exactly go as planned. Now, I just feel like I live in a fun house. I’ve been…”

  I believe there were more words spoken after that, but the blood drained from my head in a rush down south.

  She’d changed clothes. Elisabeth’s sleep attire was much like her fancy daily wear. No frumpy old sweats for her. She slept in short, silky dresses, nightgowns, nighties. Whatever they were called, I loved them for a myriad of reasons. Including the way they showed her legs off and the ridiculously easy access they offered in the middle of the night. But, upon seeing her now, I remembered my favorite reason of all: They left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Everything, from the swell of her breasts to the curve of her hips, was outlined in spectacular fashion.

  My eyes dropped to her nipples, which were peaking behind the fabric, and just as quickly, her arms came up to cross over them.

  “Anyway,” she said, “did you need something?”

  Yes. You. Naked and calling my name. “You need to eat.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. I need to sleep.”

  She started to close the door, but I caught it with my free hand.

  “Why were you crying?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Bullshit.” I took a step into the room, forcing her inside with me.

  Her lips went thin as I kicked the door closed behind me.

  “You need to leave,” she contended while I moved past her to set the plate on her nightstand.

  “Tell me why you were crying and I’ll see what I can do about that,” I lied.

  She scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know, Roman. You’re a smart man. I’m sure you can figure this out without an explanation.”

  I glanced around the room. Not much had changed. Our wedding pictures were no longer covering the walls, but minus the khaki bedding that had been switched for a pink-and-white stripe, it all remained the same. Her closet door was wide open, shoes neatly organized over the floor, necklaces draped over hooks I’d mounted on the back of the door.

  When we’d bought the place, I’d promised her that I’d expand the closet for her. It was one of the many promises I’d broken to her.

  “That guy, Jon. He mean something to you?” I asked, going to the window, peeking out just in time to see Kristen’s car backing out of the driveway.

  She laughed, but it held no humor. “That’s seriously your first guess? After the day we’ve had, you guess I’m up here pining over Jon?”

  I glanced back in her direction and cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a no?”

  She released a frustrated groan, walked to the door, and snatched it open. “Leave.”

  I ignored her request and sat on the side of the bed. Resting my elbows on my knees, I interlocked my fingers and let them hang between my legs. “So, you’re upset about the shit that went down at the police station today?”

  She blinked for several seconds, her chest heavily rising and falling. She was about to explode, but sometimes, that was the only way to break a wall down.

  “Lissy,” I whispered, lighting the fuse.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  “No! I’m upset because this is my life!”

  Boom!

  She gave the door a hard shove, slamming it shut before marching over to me. Crossing her arms over her chest, she snapped, “Let’s see. Where should I start?” She waited for a reply that wasn’t going to come before she continued. “My day began in a police station, where I found out that someone might have pulled the old switch-a-roo on my embryos. Then I woke up a second time to find my ex-husband standing in my kitchen, drinking beer, and ordering dinner. Then he pinned me to a fucking couch, declaring his one hundred percent involvement.” She paused and lifted two fingers in the air. “This being said two goddamn years after he’d checked out on me. Then his sister showed up, claiming to be convincing me of something, which he clearly seemed to be in on. Then my friend showed up because he’s worried about me, and you marked me like a fucking fire hydrant. Now, here you are…standing in my bedroom, asking why I’m upset. Jesus Christ, Roman!” She threw her hands out to the sides. “Take your pick!”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  All of that had happened.

  But she’d left a lot of the details out.

  After rising to my feet, I closed the distance between us. Her eyes went wide as I hooked an arm around her hips and pulled her off-balance so she crashed into my chest.

  “See, my day went a little differently,” I started gruffly. “I woke up this morning, after I’d spent the entire night trying to figure out how to get the woman I love to take money from me. She hates me, but I fucking hate the idea that I can’t take care of her.”

  “I don’t—” she started to interrupt, but I talked over her.

  “I arrived at the police station, where I saw said woman, and I felt my heart beat for the very first time in two fucking years.”

  Her mouth fell open, but when I cupped the back of her neck, she slammed it shut.

  “Then I found out that some asshole I trusted enough to give my life savings to decided to sell my child to someone else. Yeah, I don’t give a single fuck we used a sperm donor. I also don’t give a damn that that child was in a petri dish when it was sold. That child is ours. Wherever the hell it might be right now.” I paused for a breath, and she wisely remained quiet. “Then, upon hearing this news, you fell into my arms, clinging to me as if we’d never been apart. With that, Lis, my lungs inflated for the first time since I’d found you sitting on the couch with your bags packed around you. I walked out of that police station with you in my arms, shocked and pissed the fuck off, but I felt like someone had finally pressed play on my life again.” I squeezed the back of her neck. “So, yeah, baby, you better believe I’m one hundred percent involved in that.”

  “Roman,” she sighed, her stiff body finally starting to relax in my arms.

  I kept going. “Then my annoying-ass sister showed up in order to convince you to keep at least some of the money I’d sent so I could get one single night of sleep where I didn’t close my eyes and worry you needed something. I will not fucking apologize for that. That leads me to the part where a man I do not know showed up at your door, trying to steal that new beat in my heart and breath in my lungs, so damn straight I reacted. You aren’t gonna get an apology from me about that, either. For fuck’s sake, I called you my wife. I didn’t beat the piss out of him. And believe me, the thought did cross my mind.”

  “Oh God,” she cried, dropping her forehead to my chest. Her hand snaked up between us to rest on my pec.

  After kissing the top of her head, I finished with, “So you were right about one thing. I am standing in your bedroom, asking why you are upset, because minus the bullshit going on with the cops, I see not one thing to be upset about. Also, I’m standing in your bedroom, staring at you in that fucking nightgown, and remembering how it looked the last time I took it off you.”

  Her head jerked up, her eyes wide and her cheeks sliding through the color spectrum of reds. “Don’t,” she warned, but it came out breathy.

  “I won’t,” I assured as I slid my hands up her sides, allowing my thumbs to glide over the side of her breasts as I made my way up to her neck to cup her jaw. “Yet, anyway.”

  Her gaze darkened, and her hand at my chest closed, fisting my shirt. “This is crazy,” she whined.

  “It always was with us.”

  “I can’t do this wit
h you, Roman. Not again.”

  “Fine. Don’t. But consider this your warning because…” I paused, turning us so I could back her to the bed. Bending so as not to lose the connection, I gently lowered her to the mattress and declared, “I’m checking back in.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t a hotel. You can’t just check back in.”

  I battled the urge to kiss her.

  To claim her.

  To take back the woman who had always been mine.

  Calling up every ounce of self-control I possessed, I released her, pushed off the bed, and headed to the door. After opening it, I shot her a smirk and said, “You’re right. It’s not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sleeping on the fucking couch.”

  Her chin quivered as she smiled. God, she was scared to fucking death, and it broke me. But I wasn’t letting go. Not again.

  “It’s gonna be okay. All of it,” I promised.

  A tear fell as she replied in a weak voice, “I’m not sure about that.”

  She was wrong. But I wasn’t going to convince her of that right then.

  “Try to eat and get some rest, okay?”

  She nodded, wiping the wetness away from her cheeks.

  I hated leaving her alone when she was struggling, but she needed the space, so begrudgingly, I walked away.

  Then I yelled, “Son of a bitch!” when that goddamned man in the mirror scared the shit out of me for the second time.

  And it was worth every second of the near heart attack when I heard Elisabeth’s soft giggle from the other side of the door.

  “Wake up, baby,” I heard as I felt the hair being swept off my face.

  It was him. Therefore, it had to be a dream.

  It was a dream I’d had at least a dozen times.

  However, once, it had been reality.

  “Wake up, baby,” he urged, sitting on the bed in the curve of my naked body. His back to my front, only a sheet dividing us. Thoughts of the night before flooded my mind—all of them starting and ending with Roman.

  “Mmm,” I purred, curling around him. Looping my arms at his waist, I groaned when I came in contact with his clothes. My sore, well-used body was still aching from the night before, but I was ready for more. “Why are you dressed?” I complained, teasingly patting him down, paying special attention to his zipper while searching for the length hiding behind it.

  Just as I found it, he caught my wrist and pulled it away. “We need to talk.”

  It wasn’t spoken in a tone that said, We need to talk so we can figure out where to get more condoms and then stay in the bed for the rest of the day—and maybe forever.

  It was spoken in a tone that said, We need to talk because I’m married and need to get home to my wife.

  I was suddenly more awake than ever.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up, dragging the sheet with me.

  He was no less gorgeous the next morning, but the mischievous glint in his silver eyes was now filled with worry. It was all wrong for the man who had proposed only hours earlier.

  “How ya feeling?” he asked, pushing to his feet and pacing the room.

  “Good,” I drawled suspiciously.

  He stopped moving and looked over at me. “Not sick or anything?”

  I tilted my head in question and replied, “Nope. Little thirsty. Little hungover. But overall pretty good.”

  Scrubbing the top of his buzzed head, he breathed, “Oh, thank God.”

  This did not relax me in the least.

  “Roman, what’s going on?”

  He swallowed hard then went back to pacing a path in my carpet. “I fucked up, Lis.”

  My already racing heart came to a screeching halt.

  He’d fucked up.

  Oh God.

  “How?” I had no idea where the courage to ask had come from, because no one wanted to be rejected by a man who they’d fallen in love with. And that was exactly what had happened. I’d thought I had known it as he’d made love to me on the floor just inside my apartment and then again a few hours later in my bed. But, right then, staring down the barrel of losing him, I knew.

  Roman Leblanc was it for me.

  And he’d fucked up.

  He looked at me with terrified eyes and announced, “I was drunk.”

  I was going to be sick. I could feel it in my stomach. I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together much longer.

  “Roman, I’m about to have a panic attack, so if you could just speak in full thoughts and spit this shit out, I’d really appreciate it. What did you do?”

  He balled his hands into fists, planting them on his hips as he confessed, “It was lamb!”

  My head snapped back. “What?”

  “I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been freaking out all morning.” He started pacing again. “I searched your fridge and pantry, and there’s not a piece of lamb anywhere. Are you allergic? Please tell me it’s not a delayed reaction. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Do we need to go to the hospital?” He gripped the back of his neck and stared at me. “Oh God, please don’t tell me it’s a religious thing and I knowingly fed you lamb.”

  My breath became lodged in my throat.

  This smart, funny, and beautiful man was freaking out because he’d told me that the gyros were beef. He had a conscience so strong that it had woken him early in the morning and sent him scouring through my pantry.

  The guilt was painted all over his face.

  If I’d had any doubts left about Roman, that was the exact moment they vanished.

  I was hopeless to stop the tears from falling.

  “Say something,” he whispered in absolute horror.

  “Yes,” I said on a half cry, half laugh.

  His eyebrows pinched together. “Yes, allergic, or yes, religious?”

  I sob-laughed again. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  His whole body startled, and his mouth gaped open.

  I quickly amended, “I mean, if the offer’s still on the table.”

  “Oh my God,” he gasped. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded, wiping my cheeks and climbing to my knees.

  He rushed across my bedroom faster than any non-Olympic athlete could move. Slamming into me, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and lifted me off the bed.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed, planting random kisses on the top of my hair and the side of my face. “Say it again.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “Jesus,” he whispered. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  I giggled. “Over lamb?”

  He pinched my side. “I spent forty-five minutes searching the Internet for lamb allergies. I even held a mirror under your nose to make sure you were still breathing.”

  I burst out laughing as he put me back on the bed. “For the record, I eat lamb. I’m just not a fan of it in anything but a gyro.”

  “Noted.” He pressed his lips to mine in a reverent kiss. Then he leaned away and smiled, declaring, “You’re gonna be Elisabeth—with an S—Leblanc by the end of the day.”

  I smiled back. “Leblanc with a capital or lowercase B?”

  He smirked. “Does it matter?”

  I struggled to get rid of my smile, but the best I could do was cover it with my hand. “Yes, it matters. Our lives together hang in the balance of this question right here. Right now.”

  He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to cover his own shit-eating grin. “Lowercase.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and then took the biggest risk of my entire life.

  And I did it knowing that it wasn’t really a risk at all.

  Because, regardless of my answer, I would love this man for the rest of my life.

  “Okay, then. Roman Leblanc—with a lowercase B—let’s get married.”

  I kept my eyes closed as I stretched. “What time is it?” I asked, rolling to my side and curling around him.

  “Jesus,” he mumbled as I felt him touch the spaghetti strap of my nightie. His thumb grazed my skin as it traile
d down between my breasts. My nipples peaked in anticipation.

  But then he moved the fabric to cover me. Wrong direction.

  I groaned in disappointment when consciousness finally pulled me from my dream world.

  My eyes flashed open, and I found him staring down at my chest as he righted the material over my exposed breast.

  I bolted upright and scrambled across the bed, dragging the sheet with me. “Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked, memories of the night before still lost in the early morning fog.

  He twisted his lips, his eyes darkening as they slid to my hands, which were clutching the sheet, then back again. “Our legal team will be here in fifteen minutes. I thought you might like to get dressed.”

  With that, the world came crashing back down around me. My body sagged, and my heart wrenched. I would have rather stayed in bed all day and forget that I needed a legal team in the first place.

  “Okay,” I forced out.

  Before I knew it, his hand was at the back of my neck, dragging me toward him. It wasn’t rough, but it was demanding. He tucked my face into his neck and shifted so my chest was crushed against his side.

  I didn’t fight. I’d just woken up and didn’t have it in me. Or so I told myself as I nuzzled closer.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Lissy,” he whispered into my hair, his lips sealing the promise with a kiss on my crown.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, doing my best to tamp the overwhelming anxiety down.

  “It’s just a meeting with Whit and Kaplin to see what our options are.”

  “Okay,” I agreed again.

  One hand remained at the back of my neck, and he folded the other arm around my shoulders, holding me so tight that it was as if he could keep me from falling apart. And this was Roman; he might have been the only one who could. It was his superpower as far as I was concerned.

  “I’m right here. One hundred percent,” he said, continuing with the reassurance.

  I continued with the noncommittal declarations of acceptance. “Okay.”

  “You want some coffee?” he asked before kissing the top of my head again.

  I shouldn’t have liked that as much as I did.