The Proposal - R.R. Banks [PDF] | Online Book Share (2025)

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Table of Contents Copyright and Disclaimer Title Page Book Description Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Epilogue A Note from the Author

Becoming Daddy Redemption Accidentally in Love Accidentally Married (Sample) Rebel (Sample) About the Author

The Proposal R.R. Banks

“Will you marry me and carry my baby?” Ruthless billionaire. Cold. Untamable. Relationships meant nothing to me. I never wanted a family. Then she walked into my office. My best friend's little sister. She’s more beautiful than I remembered. I wanted to protect her in the past, but I f*cked it up. Years passed. She's my new secretary. And still the only girl I want to claim. Mark as mine. To inherit the company, I need a baby. And a wife. She needs money to save her mother. I gave her a proposal. We made a contract. She thinks our marriage has an expiration date. But her sweet curves and innocence belongs to me

now. I’ll be damned if I let her get away. Can we build the perfect future or will our past get in the way?

Chapter One

Cherry

I was really beginning to hate my wedding planner. "There's no way I'm letting that thing anywhere near my mouth," he spat. "Oh, come on," Jess coaxed. "It's fuzzy." "It's supposed to be fuzzy. Just take a little nibble." My best friend is also starting to piss me off. "No. That's disgusting." "No, it's not. Just open up and go for it."

"No. And you know why? It doesn't want me to eat it. It is telling the world that its gross, furry outside should not be eaten." I turned around and held my hand out. "Give me the damn peach." Jess looked dejected as she dropped the peach into my hand. I put it back in the basket I was carrying and took a moment to smooth down my dress. "I still can't believe that you are bringing them peaches," she said. I shot her a glare. "I picked them myself during my visit to Georgia last week," I said, trying to keep the defensive note out of my voice. "I can't come to a tea empty-handed. Especially one that's being held in my honor."

"Speaking of which. Remind me, why did you think it was a good idea to meet your fiancé’s parents at the same time that you are introducing them to your maid of honor and your wedding planner?" "Anthony and I had a whirlwind romance and I haven't had a chance to meet them. Since the date that we chose is coming up fast, we wanted to make sure everyone could get to know each other without slowing down the planning process." "I didn't think that 'whirlwind romance' was a phrase that people actually used in conversation.” My glare changed trajectory to focus directly on Smyth the Wedding Planner. I really should have known better than to hire someone with a deliberately misspelled last name as a first name and a capitalized title that was not warranted in any way. He came highly recommended, but I was now convinced that I was the butt of a particularly cruel

matrimonial prank. I could just see the announcement now: Wedding planned by wedding coordinator to the nobodies – Smyth the Wedding Planner. "They will think it's a sweet gesture." "Why?" "Because it's a sweet gesture, damn it." I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I smoothed my simple floral dress again and flashed what I hoped was a somewhat convincing smile to Jess. "They're expecting us. Let's go." We started back up the meandering stone walkway that led to the palatial estate owned by Anthony's parents. “Remember, don’t say the ‘v’ word," Jess muttered toward Smyth. “What ‘v’ word? Violet? Vanilla? Viagra?”

“No, that Cherry’s a virgin.” As I continued up the path, I closed my eyes and tried to count to ten to calm my nerves. “Why, thank you, Big Bird. Next week will be brought to you by the letter ‘Q’.” I'm going to kill them before we get to the party. “And now to the Count for today’s number.” I'm going to plan my own wedding and be my own maid of honor. “Would that be 666?” Maybe we'll just elope. “Two scary future-in-laws, ha-ha-ha.” As we made our way up the walkway I noticed a car pulling up the driveway that looped behind the house. The driveway had been designed in what

may be the least convenient way possible so that the drive itself wasn't visible from the road in front of the house. Instead, just the hint of the entrance could be seen before the asphalt veered away from the grounds so that they remained untouched. Pristine. It was one of the few features of the house that Anthony had described to me beforehand, so I would know what to expect when I arrived. I had stopped in front of the house just as he had instructed, and a valet appeared beside me, taking my keys. The three of us hurried out of the car and he unceremoniously drove away, leaving us at the gate that led to the walkway. The walkway was so long I couldn't really imagine the family used it on a regular basis. It was only used by people that they wanted to impress with their manicured lawns and fountains, before taking their breath away with their estate that seemed to unfold like origami on the horizon the closer we got.

But it wasn't my car making its way up the hidden drive. The brief glimpse of it that I caught told me that it was a different color and a far more elegant, expensive model. "I thought that we were the only ones coming to this shindig," Smyth said. "It isn't a shindig," I said. "And we are. That's probably a caterer." As I said it, however, I knew that wasn’t the case. Caterers showed up in big white trucks, not glittering European sports cars. A nervous feeling was building in my gut and I forced an even larger smile on my face. Nothing can go wrong when you're smiling this big. Countless commercial product campaigns aimed at resolving miserable conditions have taught me that. We had only walked a few more steps when a

low sound – that my mind had convinced me was the distant murmur of the lawn equipment that had to be going at all times due to the size of the property – became more distinct. It wasn't a riding mower fighting a never-ending quest against the blades of grass and harshly molded ornamental trees. It was the murmur of music and voices. Confused, I followed the sound the rest of the way up the walkway and then around the side of the house. My confusion only increased when I stepped through another gate and saw the tiered back patio swarmed with guests in clothes too lavish for the afternoon, much less a casual tea. Jess stepped up beside me, never turning her widened eyes away from the spectacle unfolding in front of us. "Nope," she said, shaking her head. "This is definitely a shindig." I didn't know what to think. This wasn't the plan.

I couldn't understand why Anthony didn’t clue me in to such a tremendous shift in our plans for the afternoon. My eyes scanned the crowd, desperately looking for him. When they finally settled on him, my heart fell even more. He was standing several yards away in a sunken section of the garden, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and giving what looked like his very best snobby rich man laugh. His other arm was draped casually around the waif-like waist of a blonde woman standing beside him. What were the chances that she was his sister he never mentioned to me that recently returned from war? "Hey, Cherry," Jess said from beside me. "Remind me again how you got your name." I didn't take my eyes off Anthony or the glass of champagne that swirled when he leaned toward her to touch a kiss to her temple.

"My father said that marrying my mother and having my brother made his life complete, but that I was the cherry on top." "Ok...adorbs...but we'll talk about that later. Is it short for anything?" "Cherry?" I asked. "No. It isn't short for anything." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure." "Do you have another name? Like a littleknown first name that would only be used for formal occasions?" Aggravation was rapidly building inside me. "No." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure."

"Are you absolutely positive?" I let out an exasperated growl. "Yes, I'm absolutely positive that I know my own fucking name!" The voices around me quieted and I felt my cheeks burning. "Um." I turned toward Jess, who was pointing at an elaborate flower centerpiece crafted into names with a scrolled heart in between them. "Because it seems that the flower guy thinks your name is Michelle." I felt like I couldn't breathe. "Cherry!" I turned toward Anthony's voice and saw him rushing toward me. The whispers and mutterings around him had become so thick that it seemed like he needed to physically push his way through them.

The judgment is strong with this crowd. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Part of me said turn and run like hell from the humiliation I felt. The other part said stand my ground and find out what was going on. Another small part of me wanted to hurl peaches at his head until my basket was empty and then fill it back up with flowers torn out of the centerpieces. And then throw those at his head. "Cherry, what are you doing here?" Anthony asked. He was talking in a low, whispered hiss as if that was going to do a damn bit of good with threequarters of the town's society page staring at us. "What am I doing here?" I asked. "What do you mean what am I doing here? What is she doing here? In fact, who is she?" I pointed at the blonde I could only assume was

Michelle as she made her way toward us. Anthony glanced behind his shoulder toward her and then looked back at me. All the color drained from his face and I realized that it wasn't until that moment that what was happening really sunk in for him. "Can we talk?" he asked, lowering his voice again. "I'm not sure," I said. "It seems to me like not talking might be what brought us to this moment. So, I think that the question is...can you talk?" I was making a scene. I knew it. Jess knew it. Smyth knew it. Michelle knew it. The governor, who I was fairly certain I was watching scarf down cocktail shrimp like it was a new tenet of his office, knew it. But I didn't care. If there ever was a moment in my life that warranted a scene, this was it. I, like every other good Southern woman before me, had been training my whole life to throw the perfect hissy fit, and I was about to give them one

hell of a show. "Cherry, please. Let's go somewhere and I can explain." He was looking at me with a desperate expression in his eyes and a small feeling of compassion came over me. I gritted my teeth and nodded. "Fine," I said. "Thank you." Anthony gestured toward the walkway and we turned around, feeling like we were being ushered out of the party. My party. My stupid get-to-knowyou engagement tea. As the voices rose up behind me again, though, I knew that wasn't what it was. It had never been. We reached the front of the house where the sounds of the party were mercifully muted. I turned around and felt my jaw set when I saw that

Michelle had decided to come right along with us. Anthony must have seen me doing my best to bore holes in her stupid couture with my eyes because he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She nodded solemnly and planted a small kiss on his cheek before turning away and heading back down the path. Bastards. I felt Jess's hand grab onto my arm before I could start to take a step toward them. She knew me so well. I withdraw any feelings of impending hatred of her. Anthony turned back to me and I realized that he wasn't leading us into the house. He expected us to stand there, in the middle of the walkway, and hash this thing out. I didn't know exactly how many levels of offended that made me feel, but it was a lot. Apparently, I was good enough to be engaged to, but not to step inside the house while my ‘fiancé’ explains to me why there was a haughty,

skeletal woman taking on my role at my engagement tea. It reminded me of the casting on one of those true crime dramas where they do reenactments of grisly murders. The more horrible the thing that happened to the person, the more flattering the casting of their reenacted selves tended to be. "Anthony," I said, wanting to get in the first words. "What in the hell is going on?" "Cherry, I can explain." "Can you? Who is that woman? And who are all these people? I thought that this was supposed to be a quiet tea where I could get to know your parents and they could meet Jess and the wedding planner." "Smyth." Smyth the Wedding Planner stepped forward, offering his hand to Anthony delicately, as if it being kissed right now is the appropriate solution

for this situation. "Seriously?" Anthony asked. "Yes," Smyth said. "Do you have a problem with it?" I reached out and pushed Anthony on his chest, attempting to pull him back into the conversation. "Look," Anthony said. "I am so sorry that this happened this way and that Jess and Smitty were here to see it." "Smyth." "Yes. Smyth. I don't know what to tell you." "The truth. Tell me the truth." "Michelle is an old friend…" "The truth, Anthony," Smyth snapped. "I can handle this myself, Skippy." "Smyth," I said through gritted teeth. "And I'm

not really so sure that you can. Why don't you start again?” Anthony sighed. "Michelle is my fiancée," he said. "That's funny," I said. "I thought that I was your fiancée." At least he had the dignity to have a few tears in his eyes. "Both of you are. Were. I don't know. I've been with Michelle for a while. We had started to drift apart after we got engaged and she left on a threemonth vacation in Europe with her family. That's when I met you. You were so different, Cherry. You caught my attention from the first moment I saw you, and I just couldn't get you out of my mind." "So, I conveniently fit in there right next to Michelle?"

"It wasn't like that," he said. "Really? Because that's exactly what it seems like. Your fiancée was away, and you were bored. So, you needed someone to keep you amused until she came back." Anthony gave me a quizzical look. "Keep me amused?" he asked. "What kind of amusement would that be, exactly? You wouldn't even have sex with me." "That's just unnecessary,” Smyth said. "Don't talk to her like that." Maybe he is not quite as awful as I thought he was. Anthony turned to him sharply, pointing one finger directly at his chest. The tears were gone from his eyes now and his face was red with color. "Look here, John Jacob Jingle Heimer Shut the

Fuck Up, I've heard enough from you. This is between Cherry and me." "And these lovely people who I'm going to guess are your parents," Jess said, looking over at the two extravagantly dressed people rushing toward us. "Oooo. They look mad." She and Smyth stepped slightly further away from us as Anthony straightened and dropped his hand. "Anthony?" A woman with severe makeup and expertly coiffed silver hair called as she approached. "What's going on here?" "Who is this woman?" The tall, dignified man beside her asked. "She has disrupted the entire party." I gave them a saccharine smile. "Hello," I said, stepping toward them with my hand extended. "You must be Angela Freedlander,

Anthony's mother. I'm Cherry. Anthony's fiancée." Her face fell. Angela’s hand gripped mine limply, controlled by the force of a lifetime of social polishing and etiquette. I shook it enthusiastically before offering my hand to the man. "And Sterling, is it? Mr. Freedlander, it is lovely to meet you." I was struggling to maintain control and look like I was still put together even though inside I felt like I was falling apart. The two older Freedlanders were looking at each other and then their son, then back at each other. Neither would face me. I got the feeling they had the attitude that if they didn't acknowledge the problem, aka me, I would just disappear. "Cherry, please," Anthony said again. "Let's try to be dignified about this." I felt my cheeks burning. My heart was

pounding erratically in my chest and my hand tightened around the handle of the basket I was still holding until the wicker pierced my skin. I can't believe I picked peaches for these assholes. "Dignified?" I asked incredulously. "You want me to be dignified? I just walked up to a house where I thought I was supposed to be having a tea to meet my future-in-laws and found it swarming with people. I'm sorry if my first thought was that I was woefully underdressed and not that I just crashed an engagement party other than my own!" "How did this happen?" Jess asked. "Did you double book just in case one of the women didn't show up?" "No," Anthony said. "I didn't plan this. This was never my intention. I swear. I mentioned the tea to my mother a couple of weeks ago when we first planned it. When she told me that she had made a

few more plans for today, the date was familiar, but honestly, I had completely forgotten about the tea." "That might be the first bit of honesty I have ever heard from you," I muttered bitterly. "When I got here today, my mother had put together this beautiful engagement party and Michelle was here...I got completely wrapped up in everything…" "And just conveniently forgot that you were celebrating your engagement to the wrong woman?" I asked. Anthony glanced at the muffled sound of the party and I saw his shoulders drop as he sighed. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I was celebrating my engagement to the right woman." Things got a little blurry after that.

I heard a knock on my door two weeks later, but couldn't answer around the spoon that was in my mouth. Instead, I made a sound that was somewhere between a cordial invitation to enter my home and a primal grunt. Fortunately, Jess is fluent in Cherry-speak and let herself in. She gave me a scolding look as she closed the door behind herself and turned the deadbolt. "You really should keep your door locked when you're home alone." I managed to pull the spoon out of my mouth. "I'm always home alone." "You're not right now." "Because I didn't have my door locked." "You're a young, beautiful, single woman. The perfect target for a predator." I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Did you just TV Guide description me? Are you watching Law and Order again?" "It's educational. Which reminds me...you really should keep your doors locked." I sighed. "Why? What's the point?" "Alright. That's enough," Jess said, coming across my apartment and trying to physically pull me out of my chair. In her efforts, she knocked over the basket that had once been filled with peaches. "I can't believe you brought those things home with you." "I had to. I needed to make a peach crumble. If I didn’t have the peaches it would have just been crumble." She walked past me into the kitchen and out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was staring down into the glass baking dish on the top of the

stove. "There sure are a lot of peaches in here. What are you eating." I hesitated for a beat. "Crumble." Jess sighed and came back into the living room. "Come on. Get up." "What?" She reached for the spoon and pulled it out of my hand before I could get the next bite into my mouth. "Up. Come on. It's time to get back to the world of the living." "I don't want to." "We agreed that you would have one week to be miserable about Anthony, and then you were going

to snap out of it. And honestly, I'm still in the camp that he didn't even deserve that much." "Yes," I said, "but then I lost my job." "Yes. And I even agreed that was pretty horrible timing on behalf of the universe and sucked a lot, which is why I gave you an extra week to get your shit together. But that's over now. It's time for you to start living again. You need to get up and get in the shower because I think you were wearing these clothes when I came to visit you three days ago. After that, we will figure out what to do next." I stood up reluctantly and glared at my best friend. I was doing my best to look angry and indignant but in reality, I felt fragile. I hated that. "You can be really mean, you know," I said. Jess reached forward and brushed a piece of my greasy hair away from my forehead. "I know," she said. "But it’s only because I love

you." I nodded through the tears that were, once again, threatening to push past my eyelids. My eyeballs were red and stinging from crying so much over the last two weeks. Everything that had happened with Anthony was heartbreaking but also really humiliating. All those people saw me standing there. All of them saw him whisk me away after my sad attempt at a temper tantrum. Worse, they were probably judging my dress as much or even more harshly than they were me. That just felt like adding insult to injury. Losing the job that I had been at for almost five years felt like one kick in the teeth too many. They said that the company was downsizing and that my position had been eliminated in favor of streamlining. It didn't matter how they put it, really. I had gotten my ass fired a week after finding out that my fiancé was actually somebody else's fiancé and that she was the one that got to be the bride and have the happy ever

after, not me. It seemed like the whole world is falling down around me and I’m paralyzed. I didn’t know what to do. I felt just about ready to give up. But Jess was right. I needed to keep going. It wasn't just about me. I still needed to take care of my mother. She had been getting sicker in the last few months and I was all she had. She relied almost completely on me. The pension check she got every month was barely enough to pay for groceries, much less to put a dent in her medical expenses. I knew that my father would be devastated if he knew how much she was struggling. He had worked so hard when he was alive, pouring himself into the company that he had been a part of since it first started. We had never been wealthy, but we were comfortable enough. He thought that the pension that he would get would keep the woman he loved comfortable for the rest of her life. His sudden death, however, had made it necessary for her to start relying on

that money earlier than expected. The collapse of the company a few years ago had significantly cut into the amount that she received each month and there was always the looming threat that the checks would simply stop coming. I had done everything I could to make the situation better. I pursued legal action. I tried to figure out how this could have happened in the first place. In the end, I discovered there was nothing I could do. It was up to me now to make sure that she had the care that she needed, meaning that I didn't get to sit around and pity myself anymore. By the time that I got out of the shower, I almost felt human again. Washing away the grime and putting on fresh clothes, ones that weren’t stained by tears and an embarrassing level of melted ice cream, seemed to cut through the fog and bring me some level of focus. I walked back into the living room and found Jess sitting on the floor beside the coffee table. What looked like the classified

sections of at least three different newspapers were spread out in front of her. Beside her was a bottle of bright red, sparkly nail polish. I finished drying my hair before dropping the towel into the hamper I kept next to the sliding glass doors to my back patio. It was mortifying to my mother that I would literally have my dirty laundry out for people to see but considering that I was the only one other than Jess who ever came into the apartment in the first place, it didn’t really matter. And since I was certainly the only one who had to haul the hamper to the laundry room, my linens-related interior design choices were up to me. It was easiest to get to the laundry room by going out the back door and passing between the two buildings behind me, so keeping the hamper there rather than in my bedroom or bathroom saved me the struggle of lugging the damp, heavy wicker. "What are you doing?" I asked.

Jess took the brush from the bottle of nail polish and with a dramatic swooping motion, circled one of the listings on the newspaper directly in front of her. An instant later her arm shot out again and she circled another listing on the paper to the side. I was getting shades of her great aunt Lula Mae – who scandalized the local senior community by taking over an entire table with Bingo boards during the Senior Fall Bonanza one year. The uproar that had ensued meant the end of the Bonanza all together and ushered in the era of the spring garden tour. Allergies and the occasional bee sting aside, at least the event came without such an ill-advised name. "I'm going to help you find a job,” Jess said. She circled another listing enthusiastically. "I love a good Dolly Parton reenactment as much as anyone," I said, dropping down to sit on the couch behind her. “But as much as I appreciate

the Straight Talk situation you have going here; most people actually do this type of thing online now.” "I don't have my computer with me," she explained, "and I'm in between cell phones at the moment." "What did you do to your phone?" I asked. "There was an unfortunate washing machine incident." "Ah," I said. I reached over to the end table where my phone was charging. "Well, it just so happens that I haven't laundered my phone recently." Jess signed and abandoned the newspapers and got up onto the couch with me, turning the attention of the nail polish brush to her fingernails instead. "You just got me thinking," she said.

"That you might want a change of careers, too?" I asked, scrolling through listings on the job site I joined earlier in the year during a short-lived, fantasy mutiny against my boss that only ever existed in my head. "That we need to have a movie marathon soon. It's been ages since we've watched all those old movies." I resisted pointing out to her that devoting an entire evening to marathoning Dolly Parton movies wasn't exactly the same thing as appreciating the classics. But, it didn't seem like I was in the position at that moment to be the voice of reason. "This might be something," I said. I turned the phone toward Jess and she leaned forward slightly to look at the screen. "Elevator operator in the home of an elderly eccentric billionaire?" she asked. "I don't think you

would look very good in the little hat you would wear." "Ha-ha. Not that one," I said. "The one under it." "Secretary?" she asked, with much of the same incredulity. "Yeah," I said. "Why not?" "You have absolutely no experience at being a secretary," she said. "So?" "The listing specifically says they are looking for a highly experienced executive assistant." "It pays better than my old job and it comes with much better benefits. The least I can do is try," I said. I stood up and headed for the kitchen. "At this point, getting rejected would kind of be par for the course. Besides, if it is, I can always grab a $20

bill and try to throw myself off the nearest bridge." "That might not be my favorite movie reference," Jess called after me. "I can't promise I'll be able to save you." I laughed, feeling like that might be the first time I had done so since the day I walked up that long winding sidewalk to Anthony's parent's house. I knew that the position wasn't exactly in my wheelhouse. Other than the spattering of restaurant jobs I had as a teenager and bartending when I was in college, the only real job I ever had was with the courier company. Answering phones and assisting with deliveries didn't exactly align with what I imagined an executive assistant did, but it couldn't be that much different. After all, there was some overlap. They both involved phones. Right? Even though I didn’t have the experience or expertise that they wanted, I hoped there was a chance I could get the job. The pay, while not

astronomical, was an upgrade, and the benefits were definitely better. Besides, it would be a fresh start and that was exactly what I needed.

Chapter Two

Gabriel

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right." "Yes, you did, Gabriel." I looked across the polished mahogany desk that I had found outlandish from the time I was old enough to visit my father at work. My plan had always been that as soon as I took over the corporate empire my father had built, and this became my office, that desk would be the first thing to go. Maybe I would take a sledgehammer to it and use the pieces to construct a dog house. I didn't have a dog, but from an early age, my father had instilled in me the importance of planning for the future.

Now it seemed that he had done some planning of his own that involved taking a fairly slash-andburn approach to my future. "I've expected to inherit this business my entire life," I pointed out. "Exactly," he said. "You've expected it. You felt entitled to it." "I'm your only child." "So, you think that you deserve to live off all of the hard work that I did and my father before me and his father before him and his father before him." "Yes, I know, and Benjamin begat Bale and they were your next-door neighbors." "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Gabriel." My father's hands were tightly clenched on top of his desk and he was glaring at me, anger in his

eyes, across the gaudy, shining surface. "It was a joke," I said. "That's what you always do. You joke. You don't take anything seriously, including this company. You've always just assumed that it was going to be waiting for you, so you went about living whatever kind of life you wanted. I'm sick and tired of it. I don't approve of the behavior you've shown, especially in the last couple of years. I've told you time and time again to stop and reflect on your actions, and how they represent this company, but it hasn't seemed to sink in. Instead, you grow wilder and wilder. You have been completely irresponsible and haven't shown any interest in this company as anything more than a meal ticket. What’s worse is that you expect me to turn a blind eye to it. But I'm not going to any longer. Your behavior has been an insult to me and an embarrassment to this business. I can't, at least, not in good conscience, leave my

life’s work, my legacy, to you." "So that's it?" I asked. "I'm supposed to just accept that you want me to be unemployed? Destitute?" "Don't be so dramatic. You're far from poor and you're not going to be unemployed. You have plenty money of your own and you will maintain your positions with headquarters and keep the offices you are responsible for. You will have a title and will be salaried at a level that is appropriate for your position." "Salaried at a level that is appropriate for the position?" I repeated incredulously. The words were almost as much of an insult as his decision to cut me out of my inheritance and the family business. He wasn't only denying me my birthright. He was relegating me to nothing more than a name on the company payroll. "What are you going to do with the company now? You are long past the age when

you should have retired. Is your plan to just continue working into eternity?" "When and whether I retire is no concern of yours," my father snapped. "Besides, I have been planning for and making provisions for my eventual separation with the company for years. As you so delicately pointed out, I am getting on in age and there is no denying the health issues that run in the men of our family." "Your father died at ninety-eight-years-old because he decided to go ‘reconnect’ to his childhood and stay in his family's lakeside log cabin in the middle of the winter and his space heater malfunctioned. After he went swimming in the halffrozen pond." I had always felt a strong camaraderie with my grandfather. Despite my father's waxing poetic about the long line of men who had worked so hard to build this business, my grandfather's hard work

had been well-tempered with eccentricity. The fact that he and my grandmother may or may not have been married when my father came along, was a well-kept family secret, and slight scandal back in the day. There's just that right amount of fuzziness around my dad’s birth and school records that make them slightly suspicious. It doesn’t help that the Justice of the Peace went to school with my grandfather. "Be that as it may, Gabriel, I have always been very aware of my mortality and the fact that I have to make the decisions that are right for this business moving forward. It is that awareness and sense of responsibility that has brought me to the conclusion that what is right for this business is not having you at the helm. I have made arrangements to have control of the company divided up and evenly distributed among members of a committee made up of senior executives. They will be instructed to operate as a single entity and run the company in

the way they know I would." "You're going to divide up power? Leave it to random executives?" I asked, getting angrier by the moment. "You have always lectured me about how this company has never been run by anyone but members of our family. No shareholders. Sole proprietorship. And now you want to end all of that? You might not like the choices that I've made, but that shouldn't stop you from letting me maintain the family legacy." "The family legacy?" my father said. Something had changed in his voice. He leaned back in his chair, his hands coming to rest over his stomach, his elbows propped on the arms beside him. The expression on his face had changed in an instant and now he was looking at me in the way I had seen countless times before. It was the expression he wore every time he had just discovered a bargaining chip and negotiations were

about to shift in his favor. "Yes," I said. "If you don't leave the company to me, the legacy will be over." "You know, Gabriel, I think you're right. I'll reconsider my decision to not pass the company on to you." I smiled. "I think you're making the right decision. I –" "When you have a child." I could feel every muscle in my face fall in disappointment. "Excuse me?" "The family line ends with you. There doesn't seem much logic in continuing a legacy that has a dead end. I want to know that the company will continue on. When you have a family to pass the legacy along to, I will consider retiring and leaving

you in control." I blinked a few times. "You want me to have a baby?" "Yes," he said, standing and walking over to the bar he always kept fully stocked. "With the exception of the first Reed who established this company, every man who has come into power has done so after he already had his heir, his successor. Let's keep up with that tradition, shall we? For now, I won't say anything about my plans to the board. Things will continue on exactly as they have been. For one year. If you are on your way to a family by then, I'll reconsider." "One year?" I asked in disbelief. "Yes, Gabriel. One year. You are thirty years old now. Surely, you've met women who might be relationship worthy in all this time. At the very least, you should know how to make these

connections by now." I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of having a baby just so that I could inherit what was rightfully mine to begin with. I thought about what my father had said about the women I knew, and my mind went immediately to the pair of panties I found in my car a few days earlier. Bright purple mesh with black cheetah print and tiny purple bows on the hips, the panties had been balled up and shoved down into the passenger seat. They weren't leftovers from any recent dalliance that might have happened in the car itself. Instead, they were from my most recent fling wriggling out of them when I wasn't paying attention and shoving them there like she was marking her territory. It had made me angry when I first found them, but after thinking about it, I realized just how pathetic it really was. I pitied her for being desperate enough to think that she had some kind of hold over me. In truth, however, that one ridiculous move had been the

closest to being tied down by any woman that I had ever been before. I didn't do relationships. I never had. A woman might keep my bed warm for a few hours, but that was it. If she was really entertaining, I might even go for a second helping. I had a reliable selection of women from good families who I could bring as a date to galas and other events, but I was careful to keep them at a certain distance. Each group of women fulfilled a specific need that I had, and that system had always worked out for me nicely. I knew that my choices weren't necessarily considered seemly for a man of my family's wealth and prominence. Honestly, I didn’t care much about what society thought of me or my choice of dates. Nine years ago, I watched my best friend die and the impact had thrown my life into chaos. I have never been the same. Now my father wanted me to give him a

grandchild to prove that I had put that unseemly life behind me and was serious about taking over and making the company my number one priority. As he stood there pouring bourbon from his brilliant crystal decanter into his tumbler, I knew the conversation was over. I had lost. I didn't have any other choice but to accept this as my reality and decide on my next move.

Chapter Three

Cherry

"So, I won't be interviewing with my actual boss?" I didn't mean for it to sound quite as suspicious as it had come out. I intended to sound curious and engaged but had managed to sound as though I thought this was a cover for an underground fighting ring, and she was preparing to shanghai me. The woman who had greeted and escorted me back to the small office where we were now sitting, paused and narrowed her eyes at me. "No," she said. "He's too busy to handle something like this. I've been working with the company since before he was born. I was his dad’s

secretary when they still called us secretaries. Now I'm an executive assistant. Same job but better title, more pay, and I get to wear pantsuits. I'm not sure if that really has anything to do with it, but I will take the little things where I can get them. And once I fill this position, I'm going to be nothing but a retired grandmother of twelve.” "Wow," I said. I found myself leaning slightly closer to Miss Edna, Chief Executive Assistant. She hadn't introduced herself that way, but she was just the type of woman that warranted the title. The rich tone of her skin reminded me of Jess. Edna wore the vibrant jewel-colored tones that I always tried to pull off but ended up looking like a reject Faberge egg. She seemed to fill the room with a sense of quiet dignity and strength but looked like she gave the best hugs in the world. Can I be her when I grow up?

"So, what are your qualifications for this position?" Miss Edna asked. She took her place in the seat across the desk from me while I tried to come up with something clever to say in response. "I don't have any," I said. Well done, Cherry. "You don't have any?" she asked slowly as if she was making sure she had heard correctly. "You did read the listing, right? It specifically mentioned that I am looking for an experienced executive assistant to fill the position. The responsibilities of this position must be taken very seriously and there isn't the time to train someone on every little thing." I sighed in defeat and nodded. "I was pretty much expecting that," I said. "It kind of fits with the month I've been having."

"Well what qualifications do you have?" she asked. "I've answered phones a lot," I said. "Both professionally and personally. And I know how to get an badly packaged holiday gift on a front porch and past two dogs without breaking its contents." I tried to sell myself optimistically, but she was looking at me as if she was about as convinced as I would be in her shoes. "That will be right helpful come White Elephant time," she replied dryly. "I worked for a courier company," I explained. Miss Edna nodded with understanding. "And when did you leave your last position?" She picked up my resume and glanced it over before setting it back down. "A week ago," I admitted.

I was beginning to feel crushed again. I had used up all my optimism putting together this flimsy resume and trying to find an outfit that would make me look like I even somewhat fit in at the tall, mirrored office building where I now sat. Yeah, I was back to feeling like I should be sitting on my living room couch eating sad peach crumble. "What made you leave?" she asked. "The company downsized," I said. "They said my position was no longer needed." "You don't sound like you're completely convinced about that." "I think it might have more had to do with them not appreciating me crying my way through three straight shifts and trying to peek into a wedding present before we delivered it." Her eyes widened slightly. "Why would you do that?" she asked.

"Which one? The crying or the attempted peeking?" "Both," she said. "Oh, okay. Well, conveniently they both have the same explanation. I never got a chance to have a wedding or open any wedding presents. Michelle's going to, though. She’s going to get everything." Miss Edna's head tilted to the side. "Who's Michelle?" "My fiancé's fiancée. Well, my ex-fiancé's fiancée." I had really intended to be professional throughout this interview, but Miss Edna made me feel like I didn't need to put on a perfect front. I didn't know if she meant to inspire this reaction or not, but I suddenly found myself pouring out the entire story about Anthony and Smyth the Wedding

Planner and the floral centerpiece and the whole disaster to her. "Then I peached him." "You peached him? Is that some sort of slang I don’t know?" "You'd hope, but no. I threw a peach at his head." I sighed and let my hands drop back to the desk in front of me, looking at her with defeat. "It was very nice of him to not press charges." "Girl, you've really been through it all, haven't you?" "And then a week after that, I lost my job." "Well, honey, you just found yourself a new one." I perked up a little. "I have?"

She nodded. "I figure that if you can deal with all of that and still get yourself out of bed and get presentable so that you can provide for your mama, you can figure out how to be a secretary." "Executive assistant, you mean?" "Not yet. You'll get there. Maybe. For now, I'd stick to skirts." I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but I decided now was not the time to be offended. She had just offered me a job and I really couldn't let this opportunity slip through my fingers. Miss Edna stood up and I scrambled to follow her as she left the office and started down the hallway. "When do I start?" I asked. "Monday," she said. She turned a corner and we ended up an airy atrium that I hadn't even realized was in the building. As we passed by, she gestured

at another desk. "That's where you will sit. That fancy office was just for interviewing purposes." I nodded. "Alright." We walked a few more feet before she stopped in front of a pair of large arched doors. She knocked, and we waited a few seconds, but there was no answer. She knocked again and sighed when there was still no answer. "He must not have ever come back from lunch with his father. I have told that man a thousand times that he needs to let me know when he's going to just disappear from the office. How does he expect me to keep his schedule when he won't even tell me where he's going to be?" Edna sighed loudly. "Well, I suppose that’s your problem now, isn’t it? You'll learn pretty quickly that Mr. Reed isn't like the other executives."

"Mr. Reed?" I asked, the name striking more fear in me than her somewhat ominous warning. "Monroe Reed?" "His son, Gabriel. He runs this office. Now, I've known him since he was born, and I love that man like he was one of my own, but I will be first to tell you, he's a handful. He likes to get himself into trouble and sometimes he'll ask you to do some fancy footwork to get him out of it. Not lie, per se, but maybe you won’t let a certain lady who snuck by security know that he's hold himself up in his office and won't come out until after she is escorted out. Like I said – he’s a handful. There’s just something about him that women find irresistible." I nodded. She had no idea that I knew Gabriel Reed all too well.

"I need you to come over." "Oh, no. Is this another intervention moment? Are you calling your own interventions now?" Jess quipped. "Just get your butt over here." I ended the call and curled up on my couch, only to stand up and stalk into my bedroom. I changed into my favorite pair of leggings, thick socks, and a sweatshirt that had been worn so thin it was basically a T-shirt. Twisting my hair up onto my head, I clipped it in place, trying to find something to pass the time until Jess arrived. Fortunately, she only lived a few blocks over, which meant I only managed to build a four-level square domino tower on my coffee table by the time she knocked on the door. "Come in," I called. "For the love of all that is holy, woman, lock

your damn door." Jess shut the door and slammed the deadbolt into place as if to make a point. "I knew you were coming." "Doesn't matter. But it does bring me to...what happened?" "It's about the job." She got a sympathetic look on her face and rushed to the couch to wrap her arms tightly around me. "Oh, Cherry. I'm so sorry." "Why are you sorry?" "You didn't get the job." "I did get the job." She pushed me away and glared at me. "Then why am I here comforting you?"

"I don't know if I should take it." "Why?" I took a deep breath. "You know how we couldn't really figure out what that company was until we looked it up?" "Yeah?" "And then the unnamed owner who was only described as a powerhouse in the industry, continuing a generations-old tradition of business, blah blah blah?" "Yeah?" "It’s Monroe Reed." "Monroe Reed," she muttered under her breath, trying to figure out how she knew that name. She drew in a breath and her eyes widened. "Gabriel's father?"

"That's the one. Apparently, it's one of his many subsidiaries." "So, you would be working for Monroe Reed?" "Nope. Not Monroe." Jess looked at me quizzically for a few beats before her mouth fell open. "Gabriel?" "And we've made it back to why I don't think I should take the job." Jess knew the history that I shared with Gabriel. Or maybe the lack of history. I wasn't entirely sure which. "Does he know?" "No. I interviewed with his executive assistant and he wasn't there. Thank God." She let out a breath.

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" "I haven't seen him since he left home. I didn't even realize that he was back in town." "He didn't stay in touch with your mom?" I felt an unexpected rush of emotion go through me as I shook my head. "No. Well, I don't know, really. He might have. She never mentioned it to me if he did." I understood why she asked the question. Gabriel and my brother Brent had been inseparable from the time they first met in preschool. The Reed family was modestly wealthy then, but not so wealthy that they belonged to the social bubble that would prevent their friendship. Gabriel's grandfather was running the family's first business and starting plans to expand by the time that I was old enough to notice Gabriel. "It would be a good job for me," I said, trying to

push the memories from my mind. "It would be stable. It would look good on my resume for future jobs." "Would you be able to do it, though?" "Be a secretary?" "Be his secretary. Gabriel's secretary. Would you be able to see him every day?" Gabriel was the first boy I ever had a crush on and that crush kept getting stronger over the years. But he was older and one of the cool kids – which I most certainly wasn't. There had never really been a possibility of anything more. But that didn’t stop me from throwing myself at him the night before he left town. I had been absolutely shameless. But then he completely turned me down. Then there was a whole lot of shame. That was the last time I had seen Gabriel.

"That was a long time ago," I said, trying to sound dismissive of her concerns. "What’s it been now? Nine years? We’re probably being silly. He probably doesn't even remember what happened." I remembered. That night was burned into my memory so vividly that I knew it was one of the most crucial, formative moments of my life. The whole idea of saving myself for marriage started that very night. Now that so many years separated me from the humiliation of being rejected and standing there alone in my pink lingerie, it didn't make as much sense anymore. "You're probably right," Jess said. She hesitated for a few seconds. "How's Mom?" I drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "She was better for a little while. Then a lot worse. The doctors aren't sure what to do next. Whatever it is, though, it's going to cost money."

I barely slept from then until Monday morning. I tossed and turned and agonized over what I should do. But, by the time I was walking through the empty office building an hour earlier than required, I had convinced myself that this was the right thing to do. The thought of working for Gabriel still made my stomach flip, but after hours of repeating to myself that it might be nice to see him again after all these years, I had finally stopped shaking. "It looks like there is finally another member of the Early Bird Club." The voice behind me made me jump and I turned around suddenly. A sandy-haired man in a sharply tailored, navy-blue suit held up his hands and smiled at me as he approached. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just used to being the only one here at this hour."

"Oh. It's my first day. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't late." "Welcome aboard," he said. "I'm Blake. Blake Sheridan." He extended his hand and I took it. "Hello, Blake, Blake Sheridan," I said. "Cherry Spencer." "It's very nice to meet you, Cherry. Can I help you get settled?" He was eyeing the cardboard box that I had precariously balanced on my hip when I accepted his handshake. "I think I'll be alright," I said. "Thank you, though." "Sure. Where are you working?" "I'm the new secretary for Ga— Mr. Reed."

Blake nodded. "I heard that Miss Edna was finally retiring. Good for her." "She said that she had been here a long time?" I stated with a smile. "That she has," he replied. I adjusted the box in my hands and flashed Blake another smile before heading to my new desk. "Have a good day," I called over my shoulder. "You, too." I learned that when you are new to a company, there is absolutely nothing for you to do before the work day begins, which makes for a long, awkward stretch of silence. Fortunately, I had only arranged the pictures, plant, and paperweight Jess had given me as a good luck gift three times before other

people started filtering into the building. Soon I had met a few of my new coworkers and was feeling more at ease with the whole situation. Almost enough so that I didn't notice time was quickly passing by and Gabriel still hadn't come in yet. The greetings had slowed down, and I was reading through the thick stack of instructions Miss Edna had left me for the second time when the shadow of someone standing over my desk made me look up. I was both disappointed and relieved that it wasn't Gabriel standing there. Instead, it was Blake from earlier. "How’s it going so far?" he asked. "Well, I've been officially working here for almost a whole hour now and there have been no disasters, so I'll count that as a victory." "Good," he replied with a smile. "I just came by to see how you were getting on – and ask if I can help welcome you to the company by taking you

out for lunch this afternoon?" I was surprised by the offer and momentarily struck mute. I hadn't expected to be asked out anytime soon, especially by someone in the office. I didn't know if I was ready to even think about dating someone else. At the same time, Blake was attractive and sweet, and I had committed to a fresh start. It was just lunch. Maybe this was just what I needed. "I'd like that," I said. "Thank you." "Perfect. I'll swing by to get you around 12:30." "I'll see you then." Blake walked away and a woman I had met briefly earlier stopped by to drop off a folder at my desk. I smiled to myself as I picked it up and leafed through the contents. I made it to work on time. My coworkers seemed nice. I had actual work to do. And a man wanted to go out on a lunch date with

me. I considered that a pretty good start to my day.

Chapter Four

Gabriel

One of the perks of being the boss is that you can show up three hours late and don't have to answer or make excuses to anyone. As I stepped out of my private elevator at the end of the hallway, I realized that being late to work probably wasn’t the best way to show that I was serious about the company, but my mind was somewhere else this morning. Specifically, the maternity ward of the nearest hospital. I was in shock by my father's demands and still trying to get myself mentally to a place where I could see myself fulfilling his requirements. I have never seen myself as a family man. That was never something that I saw in my future. Despite what I had said to my father, I had

never really put much thought into the idea of carrying on the family legacy. I had been lectured about fulfilling my obligations to the family my whole life, but it had never been something I concerned myself with or actually thought about doing. I always took it for granted that the company would come to me when my father retired, and that I would have plenty of time to figure out what to do with it by the end of my career. That, of course, was no longer an option. Because of my father’s demands, I was stuck at a fork in the road. I had less than a year to decide if I was going to continue with the lifestyle I currently led and not bother to produce an heir, meaning that I would give up my rights to the company, or if I was going to fall into line, produce a child, and take what is rightfully mine. In the two days since I had talked to my father, I tried to brainstorm every possible solution and go

through a mental checklist of the women I knew. Maybe I had already met a woman who I could envision as the mother of my child. I thought of those who I had spent a night or two in bed with, as well as those I maintained as my go-to dates. I thought of the girls I barely knew and those few who were friends and even eligible childhood friends. After a while, they all blended together into an endless stream of women. By Sunday night, I had started to question if they were all the same woman, cleverly disguised. I was losing it. I finally made it to my office door and was inputting my security code into the keypad when I noticed someone in the corner of my eye. She was sitting at my executive assistant's desk, but it definitely wasn't Edna. I was confused momentarily, but then remembered that Friday had been Edna's last day. I hated to see her go. She was like a member of my family. She had been with the company since before I even was born. But I was

happy for her. If there was ever anyone who deserved to enjoy retirement, it was her. She had always gone above and beyond, even when that meant reigning me and my antics in, and I hoped that she was going to have plenty of rest and relaxation ahead of her. The bonus I gave her should certainly help. No one knew how to fulfill the responsibilities of being my assistant the way that Edna did. Honestly, I don’t even know what exactly she did for me, and the company, on a daily basis. That was why I asked her to find her own replacement. I figured that the chances of finding someone who would actually be able to fill her role were slim, but that Edna was the best bet to find the person who would come the closest. I looked at the new executive assistant for a second, admiring the curves of her body and the way her hair framed her face as she arranged the items on her desk, briefly considered them, and then rearranged them again.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and I felt my breath catch in my throat. That wasn't just a beautiful woman. It was Cherry Spencer. It had been years since I had seen her, and every one of them had done her well. She was beautiful the last time we saw each other, but now she was absolutely gorgeous. The years had only improved her delicate features and luscious body. I felt my body responding to her instantly. I chastised myself for it. I shouldn't be looking at her that way. I remember the last time that I saw her, I gazed at her with the same hunger. I can still picture her standing there in my bedroom in baby pink lingerie, offering herself to me. She had wanted me that night, and I desired her just as badly. Maybe even more. I had wanted Cherry since I first noticed that she wasn't the same little kid running around in the yard anymore. But I didn’t let myself act on my urges then. I could still see the remnants of the tears on her cheeks and

knew that she wasn't completely there. It had only been three weeks since her brother, my best friend, had died. I was scheduled to leave town the next morning. I didn't know when, or even if, I was ever going to come back home. I couldn't do that to her. It took everything in me to turn and walk away from her that night, but I somehow managed to do it. Now she was right here in front of me – all grown up. Working for me. I don’t know if my thoughts were so loud that she could actually hear them, or if she could just feel me staring, but Cherry turned around and we made eye contact. Her eyes widened, and I saw a pen slip from her fingers and fall to the desk in front of her. The sound of it hitting the wood seemed to bring her out of her stunned reaction to seeing me and she jumped slightly. Reaching out and grabbing the pen off the desk, she gave me a

shy, flustered smile. I smiled back and walked over to her desk. "Cherry Spencer," I said. "Gabriel Reed," she said. I chuckled and couldn't help my eyes from briefly tracing up and down her body. Her black pencil skirt hugged her hips while the red sweater she wore tucked into it accentuated the tight nip of her waist. "What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?" I asked. She giggled, and I felt the sound trickle down my spine before tightening in my belly. "It seems that I'm going to be working here," she said. "Oh, really? And how did you manage something like that?"

She pressed her palms to the top of the desk and leaned toward me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a trade secret," she murmured. I leaned in a little closer as if to let her whisper in my ear. "I interviewed for the position." I grinned as I straightened up, trying to not openly stare at the swell of her cleavage peeking over the curved neckline of her sweater. "I promise I won't tell anyone," I said. Cherry was smiling on the outside, but I couldn’t help but notice that she kept looking down at her hands on the table. She was also softly shifting back and forth as if she couldn't get comfortable. It made it hard to tell if she was actually happy to see me or not. I wondered if her mind was racing with the same images as mine or if she had been able to forget about that night completely. Her big green eyes rose to meet mine

and she briefly ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. Oh, yes. She remembered. I took a step closer to the desk and looked down into her eyes. "Why don't we have lunch together?" I asked. "Didn't you just get in?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, yeah. But I still have to eat—" "Hi, Cherry." I turned toward the male voice that had interrupted me. I vaguely recognized the slender man briskly approaching the desk as one of the many drones working in the extensive honeycomb of offices and cubicles on the floors below. "Hi, Blake," Cherry said

He looked at me with a hint of surprise on his face. "Hello, Mr. Reed," he said. "Blake Sheridan." "Hello, Mr. Sheridan," I said flatly. He held out his hand, but quickly let it drop to the side when he realized that I wasn't going to take it. "I've been doing my part for office morale by helping your new secretary get settled in and feel welcome." "Executive assistant," I corrected. "Actually, Blake," Cherry said, then turned to look at me. "I was about to tell Mr. Reed that you’ve invited me to lunch today." "Isn't that thoughtful of Blake. Dinner, then. We can catch up a bit." I felt a need to claim Cherry. To make it evident

to Blake and his stupid puppy dog eyes that were staring at Cherry, that I was there first. Cherry’s cheeks flushed scarlet and I wondered if she could sense the tension I felt. "Sure," she finally replied. "That would be really nice." "Good. I'll pick you up at eight." "Do you think we could make it seven?" she asked. "I have this new job and my boss is kind of a stickler. He likes me to come in really early." I smiled. "Alright. Seven it is. I wouldn't want to get you in any trouble at your new job." I took a few steps away and then turned back to her. "Do you still live with your mom?" I knew that she didn't, but I wanted one to make one last parting jab at Blake. Just so he knew that Cherry and I had history. It was the definition of

petty, sure, but something about being around Cherry made me act like this. "No," she said. "I moved to the Grizzly River Apartments a few years back." I nodded. "I'll look up the address in your file then," I said. "Have a good lunch." I winced slightly as I made my way back toward my office. Now I was petty and kind of creepy. What a fantastic start to a reunion.

Cherry

"It seems like you and the boss are pretty friendly already," Blake said as I walked around my desk to join him.

I shook my head. "It's not like that," I assured him. "He and I have known each other for years. My entire life, really." One of Blake's eyebrows cocked at me and I felt the urge to retreat from its arch of judgment. "Oh?" "He was my brother's best friend," I explained, not sure why I felt the compulsion to justify our relationship to a person I didn't even know. "I didn't know that he was the boss here until I interviewed for the position. We haven't seen each other years. Not since…" I hesitated for a second, collecting myself, and then continuing, "...the last time we saw each other." The end of my explanation fell flat, and Blake looked at me for a few more seconds like he was evaluating me. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned away so that he could press the

button on the elevator. As we stepped inside the car, I let out a small sigh of relief. Was our history really that innocent? It didn't feel that way.

I was grateful that Blake had figured transit time into our one-hour lunch and had chosen a restaurant only ten minutes from the office. I didn't know if I would be able to focus for any longer than that. I was way too distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gabriel and what it was like to be around him again. I felt bad every time that Blake had to say my name to get my attention or stared at me across the table, obviously waiting for a response to something he had said, but I didn’t hear. He was pleasant and funny enough, but my mind was filled with thoughts of Gabriel. And by the time that we were splitting the check, I was confident that neither Blake or I would consider

this a date. But what about dinner with Gabriel? Was that a date? Were we really just two old friends catching up over dinner and talking about our new, professional relationship?

Had I known the answer to that question it would have been much easier for me to choose an outfit to wear that night. I had gone through everything in my closet at least twice and had even worked my way through some of the clothes that Jess had left over at my place over the years. I was also strongly questioning my decision to accept Gabriel's invitation in the first place. I didn't know if this was the right thing to do. Just looking into his eyes again had stirred up an uncomfortable mix of emotions in my belly. And honestly, I didn't know how I would handle those feelings when we were alone and away from the many pairs of scrutinizing

eyes at the office. At the same time, I don’t really feel like I had much of a choice. Not only was Gabriel someone who had known me my entire life, now he was my boss. I really couldn't think of a graceful way to decline his invitation. I heard a knock at my door just as I was applying the last swipe of mascara on my lashes. After taking one last look in the mirror, I rushed over to answer it. Gabriel had changed out of the suit from earlier and was now in an immaculately tailored suit that I’m sure was exorbitantly priced, but somehow managed to come across as casual and elegant, not stuck-up or stuffy. I still remembered what he looked like covered in mud from playing football in the yard after the rain or splattered with fake blood for Halloween. Even then I found him enticing, but fully-grown adult Gabriel was a vast improvement. He exuded an air of total confidence and looked sleek and sexy as he flashed me the same bright smile I’ve always

known. "You look fantastic," he said. His suit made me glad that I had chosen to wear a simple black dress with a full skirt that just skimmed my mid-thigh. I would have felt even more out of place beside him if I had gone with the slacks and cardigan combo that had been an early contender. "So do you," I said. He peered over my shoulder and I got the feeling that he was curious and wanted to see my apartment, but I quickly shut the door behind me. Hearing Jess scold me in the back of my mind, I locked the door and made sure it was bolted shut before turning back to him. "Ready?" I nodded, and he held out his hand to motion for me to me walk in front of him. I took a few steps

before he fell into step beside me and we made our way down the breezeway in silence. I had expected him to escort me to some kind of flashy sports car, but instead, we walked up to a long black limo. "Really?" I asked without meaning to actually say it out loud. "I thought it would be nice to not have to drive so that we could get a chance to talk," he said. His tone was completely casual, as if everyone in my concrete jungle of one- and two-bedroom apartments, got picked up in limos for weeknight dinners. I nodded as the chauffeur stepped out the car and walked around to open the back door for us. I dipped inside and scooted as gracefully as I possibly could along the leather seat. "Thank you, Harlan," Gabriel said as he ducked inside to join me.

The conversation felt tense as we drove to the restaurant. I was very aware of his presence in the small, private space of the backseat and tried to keep my mind focused on making small talk. How was your first day of work? Do you like the building? It's funny seeing you again this way. The weather is really nice tonight. Summer is definitely coming. We were making our way through the third round of various iterations of the same questions and answers when I felt the car come to a stop. A few minutes later, we were escorted through the back entrance of a historic hotel and up a narrow staircase to a door that had "Tip Top" enscribed on it in gold-plated scroll. "What's this?" I asked.

"Just something I've arranged," Gabriel said. The man who had brought us up the stairs took an elaborate, old-fashioned key out of his pocket and used it to unlock the door. He stepped inside and then out of our way. I felt Gabriel's hand rest lightly on the small of my back. His touch sent a shiver down my spine as I let him guide me through the door. I gasped when I saw the restaurant stretched out in front of me. It looked like a photograph from the 1930s. It was so pristine and perfectly preserved that it was like stepping out of one era and into another. "This is incredible," I whispered to Gabriel. "Not many people know this is here," he said. "It was the hottest restaurant in town when the hotel was first in business. It became a speakeasy during Prohibition and wealthy and influential people from all over the world would buy in so that they could be members and party up here. It closed

to the public just a few years after the Prohibition ended. Now you have to go through private channels to have access to it." He gestured in front of us and we walked across the room. The entirety of the restaurant was contained within a glass dome that had a slight discoloration that told of its years. We stepped up to the glass and looked out over the city. "But it's worth the effort." I couldn't imagine the effort that he had gone through to get the restaurant opened just for us and I felt a distinct flutter in my chest as he led me to a table, already set with formal tableware and crystal glasses. "You really didn't have to do all of this," I said as I sat down. "I never have the opportunity to do this," he said. "I've been wanting to come up here for a while. Seeing you again was just a good excuse." "Well, thank you."

It was hard to imagine just how much I had changed since the last time we saw each other. The years had obviously been good to him and his family. While they were on the brink of tremendous success then, they were indescribably wealthy and powerful now. I had done some research after work earlier and found that the company's holdings were quite extensive, but it seemed like Gabriel was only responsible for a small segment of the operation. I wondered if that was because he only wanted a certain level of involvement, or if there something more to it. "I can't believe it's been so long," Gabriel said. I nodded. "Not since right after Brent..." My voice trailed off and I was thankful when a waiter suddenly appeared at the side of the table and poured water into our glasses. We both murmured thank you to him and Gabriel mentioned

that we were ready whenever the chef was. When the waiter walked away, we both attempted to reset the conversation. "How's Kathy doing? It's been probably a year since I've talked to her. I keep meaning to give her a call or stop by, but…" I didn't ask him to finish the sentence. I knew. There were times that it was still hard for me to walk into that house. "Mom never mentioned to me that she was still in touch with you," I said. "I didn't even know that you were back in town." "I’ve been back about three years now," he said. "But I'll be sure to mention to my father that you didn't know. He seems to be convinced that the entire world is familiar with all my exploits. I think that he'll be glad to hear that I've managed to maintain some level of anonymity."

"Exploits?" Gabriel looked vaguely uncomfortable and took a long sip of his water, ignoring my question. The waiter came to the rescue again, setting a plate of tiny appetizers in front of each of us. I wondered if he was conveniently positioned so that he could swoop in at Gabriel's signal. "So, how is Kathy?" he repeated. The conversation had been reset once again. "To be honest, Mom’s not doing very well," I said. "She's been sick for a while now and things were looking up for a little bit, but she's recently taken a turn for the worse." "I'm so sorry to hear that," he said. "Do the doctors know anything?" "She did some tests a few weeks back and we're still waiting to hear about those. Hopefully they'll be able to figure out what's been going on with her

cancer and get her on some new therapies, but honestly, we're running out of options... and money. That's actually what brought me to work in your fine establishment. I really needed a job." "Not because you wanted to work for me?" He said it playfully, trying to put me more at ease. "As much as I would love to say that I was so overwhelmed by the impressive work your company has been doing that I couldn't bear the thought of spending another moment working for someone else… no. Sorry. I lost my job. And even before that, I wasn't making enough to take care of mom." "What happened to your job?" "Well, that particular point is a bit up for debate. We'll just settle on the fact that they no longer saw themselves as a good employment opportunity for

me. It was kind of a culmination of a lot of bad things." "What happened?" I took a bite of one of the phyllo-enrobed morsels on my plate and nearly groaned at the delicious flavor that filled my mouth. I was so distracted by it that I temporarily lost control of the conversation. "A week before I lost my job, I also managed to lose my fiancé. I also lost my mind and might have thrown a peach or two at him, but I am fairly confident that my sanity has been somewhat restored." "What happened with you and your fiancé?" Gabriel asked. I wished I could shove all the elegant, bite-sized appetizers into my mouth so that I had an excuse to not answer him, but I got myself into this mess and

knew that I couldn't stop now. I spilled the entire embarrassing story to Gabriel, finding it strangely cathartic even with the lingering sting of humiliation. "I was really thinking about just becoming a hermit and giving up on society for the rest of my life," I told him. "But Mom needs me, so I don’t really have a choice. And that was what brought me to your office, even though I didn't know it was your office at the time, for an interview." "Why didn't you tell me?". I looked at him strangely. “I told you. I didn't know it was your office," I said. "The name of the company didn't sound familiar to me at all. It was just an open position that I thought that I could make the most of, that is, if I could convince someone to hire me." "No," he said. "Why didn't you tell me before?

Why didn't you let me know what was going on with your mom so that I could help you out or at least get you a job?" The humor drained from me and I shook my head, turning my attention to the next course that the waiter was bringing over. He really did have good timing. "I couldn't do that," I said. "Why not? I know you said that you didn't know I was back in town, but you could have found a way to get in touch with me. You could have reached out to my father. You should have known he would be able to find me." "No," I said. "I couldn't ask you for help." "Why?" "I would never be that presumptuous," I said. "At that point, we hadn’t talked in years, Gabriel. None of this is your problem anyways, so you

shouldn't feel responsible to fix it." "I don't feel like I have to," he said. "But it wouldn't be presumptuous. Your family treated me like one of their own for most of my life. I would do anything to help you, Cherry... To help you and Kathy. You know I love her like she was my own mother. Just say the word." "I know she would appreciate that," I said. "But I need to do this on my own. It's just the two of us now, and she needs to know that she can rely on me." "Alright," he said. The evening didn't really have a chance to rebound after that. We fell into a conversation that was almost as generic as the one we had in the car earlier. We filled each other in on what we had been doing the last few years without getting too personal or detailed. Neither one of us brought up Brent again. I could tell that Gabriel was thinking

about my brother, but I wasn't going to talk about it. Brent’s death must have been as hard on Gabriel as it was on me, but he didn’t have a chance to work through the grief with a support system like I did. He suffered with his own demons from that night and refused to talk about what happened with anyone. He completely closed himself off from the world. When Brent died, it was like a part of Gabriel did too. Even now, I could tell that Gabriel has never recovered, at least not fully. Although I could see that same, familiar look of mischief sparkling in Gabriel’s eyes, it was dull and muted compared to what I was used to. When we finished eating, he escorted me back down the stairs and into the waiting limo. I was glad that the evening was winding down, but at the same time, I didn't want it to be over. Not yet. It felt so good to be with Gabriel again, even if my stomach felt tight all evening and my heart had been pounding non-stop since I first opened my door and

saw him there, waiting for me. I couldn’t help but think about the night he had turned me down. I felt like there was still a part of me that was that insecure, fragile girl. Part of me was still standing in that bedroom, in the lingerie that didn't feel like me, silently crying out to be comforted, to be reassured, to be loved. I was in so much pain and I was spiraling out of control. I thought that I would find what I needed to feel better in Gabriel's arms, but all he did was cause me even more pain that night. Even though years had passed, and the sting of his rejection had lessened, I often wondered what went through his mind when he saw me there, and what he was thinking when he walked away. Gabriel walked me up to the door when we got back to my apartment. I felt breathless when I turned around after unlocking the door. He was standing so close that I could feel the heat of his body. I had been wondering about this moment from the second he picked me up. This moment

would define the evening, and I still wasn’t sure what would happen here. He stared down at me for several long seconds and the unfathomable expression in his eyes made me feel like he was searching to find the right words to say to me, but failing. Finally, he reached up and ran his fingertips along the curve of my cheek and my jaw. He tucked his fingers beneath my chin and tilted my face up as if he was trying to burn it into his memory. Then he smiled at me softly, bid me goodnight, and walked away into the night.

Chapter Five

Gabriel

I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling. I hadn't been able to fall asleep since I got in bed that night. I had no idea how long I had been laying there, or how many hours were left until I needed to get up and get ready for work. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get my brain to quiet down enough to go to sleep. Cherry filled my head. Her sweet voice reverberated in my ears. Her beautiful face, gorgeous green eyes, and sexy body were all that I could see. I thought that having dinner would be a fun way to reconnect with her, and maybe even give me an opportunity to see that she had done well for herself. Maybe if I knew that life had worked out

for Cherry, it would give me some sort of reassurance – a sense of repentance. It hadn't done that. At all. Although she had gone to college, just like she had always planned, which undoubtedly would have made her father and brother very proud, it seemed like Cherry had experienced some stumbles in her adult life. Things hadn't worked out for her how she must have envisioned. From what she told me about her ex-fiancé, it was obvious that she thought she would live out a fairy tale. That was typical Cherry. I could still remember her dressed up in princess gowns as a little girl, a plastic tiara settled in her nest of dark hair while she teetered precariously on toy high heels. The age difference between us seemed more exaggerated to me then and I looked at her as a cute child, completely lost in her imagination, telling herself the story of her future happily ever after. For her sixteenth birthday, I gave Cherry a silver tiara encrusted with crystals.

That was the summer that I really began to notice her, and the last summer that I would spend with her. She wasn't that little girl anymore. Now, the three years between us didn't matter. Cherry had grown up to be beautiful and sultry. I couldn’t imagine her wearing blue or pink fake satin with plastic embellishments now. She deserved to be wrapped in velvet and lace. My mouth watered as my mind filled with images of what she might have had on under that little black dress tonight. An acute, painful feeling of guilt suddenly gripped my chest. So many lives were changed the night that Brent died. Cherry was only eighteen when it happened. Shit. We were only twenty-one. Babies. Nothing would ever be the same for any of us. But that didn't stop me from remembering the promise that I had made to him. I didn't know if he could see that I was beginning to notice his sister,

or if he was just being an overprotective big brother, but Brent had been deadly serious when he insisted I kept my hands off her. He had made me promise that I would protect her, but also that I would know and respect my boundaries. I had already failed my promise to protect her. I had walked away from Cherry and forced myself to never look back. Now that I knew how much she had struggled and the difficulties her mother had faced, a woman I love and think of as my own mother, I felt like I had let Brent down even more. I should have been there for both of them. I should have been able to help. Suddenly, I sat up straight in bed. My brain felt like it was exploding with the brilliance of the thought I just had. Cherry. She would be perfect. She was the best possible choice to give me the heir and family that I needed for my father’s approval. She possessed every quality I desired in the mother of my child. I was obviously attracted to her, but it

went beyond that. I knew her and her family. They were people who meant a lot to me and who I knew I could trust. Any child would be lucky to grow up like Cherry and Brent did. But having a baby with Cherry wouldn't just benefit me. Sure, it would mean that I’d inherit the company from my father, but it would also give me a way to help her and her mother. Tit for tat. Just as she would give me what I needed, I would make sure that she was taken care of as well. I rested my head back on my pillows, finally feeling as though I might be able to fall asleep. All I had to do now was convince Cherry that this was the best solution for both of us. The next day I went straight to her desk before stepping into my office. "Good morning, Mr. Reed," she said. "You don't need to call me Mr. Reed," I said.

Cherry shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "I kind of like it." She looked down at the papers in front of her and then back up at me. "I wanted to say thank you again for last night, and that I'm sorry about the whole ‘Lifestyle of the Bitching Shameless’ rant that happened. That was kind of a downer." I shook my head. "Don't be so hard on yourself," I replied. "I actually wanted to ask if you had any plans for tonight. There's something that I need to talk to you about." Cherry looked even more startled at this request than when I had asked her yesterday. She blinked a few times and made a few stuttering noises before finally nodding in agreement.

"Sure," she said, repeating her response from the day before. "Good," I said. "I'll meet you here after work." Before she could say anything else or question what I needed to talk to her about, I turned and walked into my office. I felt more productive and driven than I had in weeks and by the time the day had ended, I had burned through a huge amount of the work that had piled up. I hoped that was a good sign and that I would be able to keep the positivity of the day rolling. I grabbed my things and made my way towards Cherry's desk. Some of my good mood faded slightly when I noticed Blake standing beside her. The two of them were laughing and they didn't notice me at all until I cleared my throat. "I guess this means that both of you had a productive day," I finally said. Cherry and Blake looked at me, their laughs trickling off.

"It wasn't bad," she replied. "Good to hear. Are you ready to go?" "Um, yeah. Just let me get my purse and everything together." "You can meet me at the private elevator," I said. I was pleased when it only took her a few minutes to catch up with me. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "Did you have lunch with him again?" I asked. She narrowed her eyes at me. "No," she said. "Not that I can imagine what that has to do with you." I could tell that she was getting defensive and I shook it off. "I was curious," I said.

"Okay. Where are we going?" "I thought we could grab some take-out and bring it back to my house." "Your house?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "What I need to talk to you about is confidential. I don't want to risk anyone overhearing us." Cherry looked suspicious and I avoided making eye contact with her. I needed to wait until we were completely alone to talk about the baby. Almost an hour later I was carrying a large bag of Chinese food into my apartment. I noticed that she was looking around as I set it on the table. "This is where you live?" she asked. "Not exactly," I said. "Well, not all the time." She looked at me.

"What does that mean?" she asked. "You're not living all the time that you're here?" "No," I said with a smile. "This is my apartment. My house is further out in the suburbs and sometimes I don't want to leave the city. So, I maintain this apartment." "That explains it," she said. "Explains what?" I asked. "It doesn't feel real. It’s too sterile. It doesn't feel like someone actually lives here. Like it's a set." "Um...Thank you?" I replied. "You're welcome." I shook my head slightly as I walked over to the couch and sat down. This girl knew how to keep me on my toes. I had never met anyone else quite like Cherry. I was intrigued by her. It seemed like that

attraction would make the arrangement even better. I couldn't imagine having a baby or raising a child with a woman I couldn’t stand for more than a few hours at a time. I enjoyed being around Cherry. Hopefully, this worked out and I could enjoy being around her while fulfilling a need for both of us. "I appreciate you coming over tonight," I said. "What did you want to talk about?" "I've been thinking a lot about what you told me last night," I said. "About Anthony?" she asked. She sounded uncomfortable with the prospect and even though I could assure her that wasn't the case, I’m pretty sure being uncomfortable was in the cards for the next few minutes. "No," I said. "About your mom and you needing money."

"But I got a job," she said, twisting her chopsticks in the container of lo mein in front of her. "I know," I said. "But I have a proposal for you." She paused, then slowly withdrew the sticks from between her lips. "A proposal?" I drew in a breath. There was no sugarcoating this. There was no way that I was going to be able to sneak my way around this one. I needed to forge ahead. So that's what I did. I don't think that I breathed from the moment that I opened my mouth until I finished explaining the situation. When I was finished, I inhaled deeply, let out a long sigh and hesitantly looked over at Cherry. She stared back at me. A mushroom fell from the ends of her

chopsticks. "What?" I got up from the couch where I sat and walked over to sit beside her. "I know, it sounds like a lot, but think about it. I can offer you an extremely lucrative contract. I'll make sure that your mother has the very best care for the rest of her life, including equipment, medication, 24-hour care from nurses, anything that she needs. I'll move the two of you into a larger, newer house and ensure that you will be more than comfortable. For the rest of your life. All you have to do is have a baby with me." Pause. "What?" "Let's be honest here. I don't have any prospects for having a family on my own. And to be honest, the more I think about it, the more what my father

said makes sense. There has always been another generation to prepare as the future successor, and the more that we grow, the more important it will be to look into the future and know who is going to lead next. I want to be able to inherit the company and keep it in my family, but I don't want to leave it up to the chance of finding some random woman, getting married, and having a child. You want to make sure that Kathy has the care she needs and not have to worry about money as much. It works out perfectly for both of us, really." "And all I have to do is…have a baby?" she asked. Her voice was dry and cutting, but I ignored it. "Yes. We will establish a very clear-cut contract from the beginning so there aren't any questions, and everyone will know the expectations and requirements of the agreement." "What happens after the baby is born?" she

asked. "Would I be involved with it?" "If you want to be," I said. "That's up to you. We can include things like visitation or coparenting in the contract." I eased closer to her on the couch and reached out for her hand, taking it in both of mine. "We've been friends for a long time, Cherry. I'd like it to stay that way. If you agree, I think that having two involved parents is what would be best for a baby." I didn't want to mention that the thought of actually raising a child scared the hell out of me and that it was comforting to think that she would be going through the trenches with me. It might not be so bad if Cherry was my partner in this mess. "I don't really know what to say," she finally replied. "Can I think about it for a couple of days?" "Of course," I said. "Whenever you're ready to talk about it in more detail, just let me know." I met her eyes and felt the tightening in my lower belly

again. I shoved those thoughts out of my mind and focused instead on the feasibility of what I had proposed. "I think that this could be really great for both of us.

Cherry

What in the hell just happened? One minute I was trying to find a tasteful and even possibly sexy way to eat lo mein – which, spoiler alert, doesn’t exist – and the next Gabriel asked me to have his baby. Not just have his baby but enter into a contract to have his baby. He wanted me to be an incubator. Maybe that's why he fed me so much the last two days. He was making sure I had enough fat to nourish a baby.

I sat in the bathtub and stared at my upsidedown reflection in the gold-plated faucet. This oversized, ancient, claw-footed tub was my favorite feature of the apartment and the main reason that I rented here in the first place, even though the buildings were older, the square footage was nonexistent, and I had to put on clothes and leave the comfort of my apartment to wash my dirty underwear and bras. Not that I would do laundry naked that frequently, even if given the chance, but it sure would be nice to have that option sometimes. Instead, I have to walk across my back patio, through a courtyard, and in between two buildings to get to the washing machines. The bathtub was a throwback to the early days of the building. I knew from spending time over at Jess's place that not all the buildings had them and I felt fortunate that I got to live in one of the handful that survived the modernization process. The water and bubbles covered me up to my

chin. I had splurged by using one of the bath bombs I had gotten for my birthday earlier in the year. I basically felt like I was floating on top of a foamy lemon meringue pie. It was my own version of a sensory deprivation tank and I hoped that it would help me focus on the decision in front of me. This was by far the most difficult decision that I had ever made. This would change my life forever. I thought of all the potential challenges this situation presented to me. The physical challenges of being pregnant and giving birth. The cold, legal logistics of the contract. The emotional weight of carrying Gabriel's child and being linked to him for the rest of my life. But at the same time, I knew that he was right when he said that this could be great for both of us. I knew what he would get out of it. Having a child with me meant that his father would accept Gabriel

had grown up and was committed to the business and continuing the family legacy. Gabriel would be able to inherit and wield total control of the massive corporate empire his family had built. For me, the benefits were less straightforward but more varied. With my mother's health getting more complicated and her condition worsening, the cost of tests, hospital visits, medications, treatments, and everything else that came along with it, was astronomical. The insurance covered some of it, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before they stopped covering things. Dad's pension only made a dent in the expenses. With Gabriel's help, I know that my mother would have the very best care, as well as a chance at more expensive, aggressive treatments and medications. A new house would give her more space and allow her to escape from some of the bad memories that surrounded her every day.

If I did this, I wouldn't have to worry so much. I wouldn't have to overthink every single thing and plan with a constant feeling of anxiety – that something was going to happen to make everything topple down. I would be able to relax and maybe even focus on the passions that I had set aside so that I could focus on my responsibilities. I could start painting again. I could enjoy being creative again, something that hadn’t been tapped into for so long. My mind eventually went to Brent. When our father died, he promised me that he was going to take his place and care for mom and me. He was going to be the man of the house and make sure that we were provided for and protected. I trusted him so much. I looked up to him with everything that I had in me. His death felt like I had lost my father all over again. Thinking about my brother made me realize how

important this decision really was. Doing this could help me fulfill the promise that he made to our mother. I knew that both my father and my brother would want me to take care of her and to give her the best life possible. This was a way that I could do that. I also knew that Brent loved and trusted Gabriel like he had been born into our family. I climbed out of the bath and dried my hand before picking up my phone and calling Gabriel. He picked it up almost instantly as if he had been waiting for my call. "Can we get together and talk?" I asked. "Absolutely," he said. "Where?" "You can come over to my apartment," I said. "Alright. When?" "An hour?" "I'll see you then."

I put my phone down and wrapped a towel around myself. I hadn't intended on letting Gabriel ever see where I lived. But, as I was about to agree to carry his baby inside of my body, I might as well let him inside my apartment.

Jess would have been so proud. My door was actually locked when Gabriel got there. I unlocked it and invited him in before padding back to the couch in my favorite thick socks. Summer was definitely on its way, but one last rush of cold night air was giving me a reprieve before the scorching heat, and I intended to take full advantage of it with snug toes and an oversized comfy sweatshirt. In honor of Gabriel being there, I chose one that still had the majority of its manufacturer intended thickness. "Did you need to talk about this more? "he asked. "Do you have any more questions or

anything?" "No," I said. "I've actually made my decision." "Really?" he asked. "Is something wrong?" "No, I'm just surprised that you made a decision so fast. I thought that it would take you longer." I suddenly felt less confident. "Do you want me to think about it more?" I asked, filled with uncertainty. "No," he said. "At least, I don't think I want you to think about it more. I guess that really depends on what decision you made." "Yes," I said. I had meant to have some sort of build up or to at least start talking about the specifics before I revealed my decision, but it sort of just burst out of

me. Gabriel stared at me and for a second, I wondered if I had actually said it or if I had just imagined the word flying out of my mouth. Finally, I saw him smile. "Yes?" he asked. I nodded. "Yes." "You'll do it?" he asked. "I'll do it," I said. "Whenever you're ready with the contract, let me know and we can go over it." Gabriel jumped to his feet and reached down to me. I put my hands in his and he pulled me up into a tight hug. I felt my body curl up against him, threatening to melt in the heat of his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. I had hugged him plenty of times, but it had never felt like this before. I wanted to rest my head on his chest and breathe him in, but instead, I took a step back.

"This is amazing," he said. "When can we get started?" "I suppose whenever you want," I said. "There's really no reason to wait." "I'll have to get in touch with the doctors and talk to them about it and get some things into place," he said. I nodded and then chuckled. "I bet it will surprise the IVF doctor to work with a virgin." I saw Gabriel's face drop. "Are you serious?" he asked. Damn. "Um. Yes." "But you were engaged." "I'm aware."

"So, you and your ex never…" "No," I said. "Being sexual just wasn't part of our relationship. I made the decision a long time ago to save myself. I told him when we first got together, and he seemed perfectly fine with it. He even acted like he thought it was something admirable and that it made me the type of girl he wanted to bring home to his mother." "This came from the man who was engaged to two women at the same time?" "That's the one. Well, as it turns out, he was less than honest with me about several things. I'm pretty sure that us not having sex contributed to him choosing Michelle. I feel completely stupid for not noticing that it was bothering him, and even more so for not anticipating that something like that could happen." "You shouldn't feel stupid," Gabriel said. "He should never have told you that he was fine with it

if he wasn’t. Even if he had said that it wasn't fine with him, you shouldn't have changed anything." I was surprised to hear that coming from Gabriel. From what Miss Edna had told me, it didn't seem that he had very much experience with women telling him no. "I wouldn't have," I said. "Is that still your plan?" he asked. The question struck a chord with me. He was preparing to essentially sign a lease on a large portion of my body, so it was only natural that he would have a particular interest in the adjacent real estate. I considered what he asked for a few seconds and then shrugged. "I don't think so," I said. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to become one of those women who auctions off their virginity online, but being married first isn't necessarily the end-all, be-all anymore, either. I just

want to make sure that it's with the right person." "I think that sounds like a good plan." I looked at him for a few seconds. "What?" he asked when he noticed I was still staring. "Do you really hide in your office when there are women you don’t want to talk to?" "Did Edna tell you that?" "After the interview." He sighed. "That woman has a mouth on her." For a second, Gabriel looked like he was trying to come up with the perfect excuse for his behavior. I wondered if it had anything to do with the recent revelation of my virginity. "Okay. Here's the story. I had been courting a young lady overnight and found it necessary to leave her at home while she was still sleeping."

Yep. Censorship at its finest. "So…you fucked and ducked." Gabriel gave a choking laugh but nodded. "You surprise me, Cherry Spencer." I smiled at him and he continued on. "So, I had ducked out of there so fast that I'm not even sure my fly was up. In retrospect – not the most chivalrous behavior. But honestly, I didn't care. We were both adults. We knew what we were doing. I never implied that I was going to be around longer than that night, and I never went out of my way to tell her anything about me that might make her feel attached to me. You know...my address, where I work, my last name. Yet by lunch the next day, there she was, coming down the hall like she was storming a castle. I happened to have bent down to pick up a pen that had rolled off my desk when she turned the corner, so I just made like the pen and rolled under it. I stayed there while Edna did some

masterful circular talking and finally confused that woman right out of the building." I was laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. When I stopped, I felt calm. I filled the plastic tumblers I had set out on the table with my favorite glass-bottled root beer, a childhood treat I never quite grew out of, and held one up. "To our future baby," I said. Gabriel grinned and picked up the other cup. "To our future baby." We touched the rims of our cups and took long swigs, our eyes never leaving each other. When we had finished our drinks, I stood and made my way over to the patio door. Gabriel watched me and when I turned to look at him over my shoulder, he still hadn't moved from his spot. "If we're going to be embarking on this grand

adventure together it only seems fair that we get to know each other a little more, and what's a better way to do that than dirty laundry?" "Dirty laundry?" he asked. I picked up my hamper and held it up to show him. "Literally. I need to bring a couple of loads to the laundry room. You can come along with me. I'll give you the exclusive tour of the back of the apartment complex." He got up and followed me out the sliding glass door. I closed it behind us and started walking away from the building. "Aren't you going to lock that?" he asked. I sighed and turned back to the door, using the set of emergency keys that I kept attached with a carabiner clip to the side of the hamper to lock the door.

"I need to introduce you to Jess. You two would get along really well." "Who is Jess?" he asked as we continued our way across the courtyard. He reached out to take the hamper that I was locked in a death struggle with and carried it like it contained little more than a single pair of panties and a dryer sheet. "She's my best friend," I said. "She, too, is extremely concerned about whether or not my doors are locked." "Sounds about right." I looked ahead of us and caught sight of Jess standing at the bank of mailboxes positioned at regular intervals around the center curve of the complex. "And I promise I didn’t arrange this beforehand, but there she is now."

I called out to Jess and she looked up with her best imitation of a prairie dog popping out of its hole. She finally noticed me and waved enthusiastically. We made our way toward each other and hugged before Jess seemed to notice Gabriel. "Who's this?" she asked. "He's sexy." Ever the subtle and sophisticated lady. "This is my boss, Gabriel Reed." She didn't miss a beat. "Hello, boss Gabriel Reed. I'm assuming this is also Gabriel Reed of yore." "Yore?" Gabriel asked. "From the past," I explained to him. He nodded. "Then yes," he said. "I am both."

"I'm going to toss in a couple of loads of laundry," I told her. "Want to come along?" I felt ridiculous being so casual, acting like absolutely nothing had changed, and this was just like any other evening where Jess and I run into each other. Everything had changed. My life was completely different now and no matter how this worked out, it was never going to be the same as before. But I kept my calm and didn't say anything to Jess about the situation. There would be a time and a place to let her know what was happening, but for now, it needed to stay between Gabriel and me. "I'm waiting for a pizza," she said. "I was going to text you and see if you wanted to come over." "You shouldn't be standing out here in the dark by yourself," Gabriel said to Jess, who looked instantly flattered. "Check out the chivalry."

"He also believes in locking doors," I said. "He made sure that my patio door was properly secured before we headed this way." "Smart man. You have to keep an eye on her with that. One of these days she's not going to lock the door and I'm going to have to hold a casting call to find out what member of our local community theater is going to play me in the true crime reenactment of me finding her corpse." I looked up at Gabriel. "Isn't she delightful?" I grabbed the hamper out of his hands. "Alright. Why don't you stick around here with Jess and make sure that the pizza guy doesn't kidnap her? I'll get this laundry going and we'll meet back up at her place." I started lugging the hamper toward the laundry room and could hear them starting to chat as I went. Part of me was a bit apprehensive about leaving the two of them together. These were two

of the people who had known me the longest and knew secrets that no one else knew. This might have unintended consequences and I really didn’t want to think about what those could possibly be.

Gabriel

The pizza arrived within seconds of Cherry disappearing into the laundry room. I suggested that we go inside, but Jess shook her head. "Nope," she said. "She said that we should meet back here. I don't know how well you know Cherry, but one thing I do know is that girl has absolutely no sense of direction. She could get lost in her own living room. Much like with locking up, you've got to keep an eye on her. If we aren't where we said we would be, she could start wandering around, looking for us, and we'll be searching for her, and

pretty soon everyone is lost and it's a huge mess. We should just stay exactly where we’re supposed to be." I pointed at the entrance to the laundry room, just a few yards away. "It's literally right there though," I said. "Stay put. You're going to have to trust me. I know Cherry. We have this system for a reason." I relented, and Jess propped the pizza box on top of the bank of mailboxes. She tossed open the box and pulled out a slice loaded with onions, peppers, mushrooms, and sausage. She made a sound like her taste buds were dancing just thinking about the promise of pizza and took a bite. By the middle of her third slice, I wondered how much of her story about Cherry getting lost was actually true, and if we really only stayed put because Jess wanted to eat the pizza and not have to wait until she got back to her apartment.

Suddenly a high-pitched scream broke through the quiet calm around us. Our eyes met and we both tossed our slices back into the box before sprinting toward the laundry room. There was another loud scream and I was suddenly aware of the strange, loud thudding sound coming from the room ahead of us. “What the hell is that?” I asked. “Oh, no,” Jess said. She pushed herself to go a little faster. “What?” I asked. She pulled out her keys and struggled to get it in the lock as we continued to listen to the screaming and thudding noises inside. I was worried about Cherry and what could be happening to her inside that building. "Come on, come on, come on," Jess chanted at the lock.

"What is going on?" I demanded. "The bad one," she said. Her fingers were greasy from her pizza binge and she couldn't seem to get a proper grip on the keys. "The bad one? Who's that?" The keys fell out of her hand for the third time and I finally ran out of patience. I kicked the door and it splintered from the impact. I kicked it again and it swung open. I ran inside and saw Cherry scrambling backwards, pressing herself against the wall while screaming. I took a step forward to ask her what was wrong but immediately knew. She was trying to escape the washing machine that had broken free of its platform and was now performing a jerky little dance across the floor toward her. "Not who," Jess said. "What." Bubbles and water poured out from the lid as

the machine bounced up and down. As the machine made its way forward, it resembled a jeering mouth about to open up to sing its gurgling, choking sound. “What is going on?” I yelled. The machine drew closer to Cherry and she pushed further into the corner she had somehow managed to back herself in. I faced off against the advancing machine like it was a bull and I was a Spanish matador. I crouched down, my hands in front of me, as I waited for the perfect moment to rush the machine. Jess no longer seemed as concerned now that she saw what was going on. This was obviously not the first time that she had witnessed the aged washing machine make a break for it. “The machine is off-balance,” Cherry said. “They can diagnose mental illness in a washing machine?” I asked.

I flung myself onto the washing machine. I landed on top of it and wrapped my arms and legs firmly around it. I wasn't sure that this was proper protocol to bring a washing machine under control when it had a temper tantrum, but it wasn't getting any closer to Cherry, and I was going to consider that a victory in itself. The hot water pouring out of the washing machine had soaked through my clothes and some of the bubbles seemed to be working their way up my nose, but I continued to hold on as tightly as I could. "It means that she didn't distribute the clothes evenly," Jess said. “I don't have any clothes in there,” Cherry said. “It’s my bedding. It's just a couple of sheets and some blankets. One pillow.” “You shoved all of that in the bad one?” Jess asked incredulously. "Why did you do that?" I tried to look at Cherry and gauge her reaction

as I continued to ride the machine around the increasingly sudsy room. The machine was fighting back with much more enthusiasm than I would have expected, and it was producing bubbles at breakneck speed, making it harder to maintain my grip successfully. "It was the only one that was empty!" Cherry snapped. “Those three are all mine!" Jess shouted back. “You could have just taken my stuff out and used one of the good ones." Cherry crossed her arms over her chest. “How was I supposed to know that?” “Jess, unplug it,” I said, noticing that she was standing near the main plug. Jess started to wade through the bubbles but slipped on the slick tile and tumbled to the floor.

“Son of a bitch!” she shouted. She scrambled to sit up and I saw that she was practically covered head-to-toe in bubbles. She tried to get to her feet and slipped again. “I'm coming for you!" Cherry yelled to Jess. She started across the floor toward Jess, but promptly slipped in basically the same place and fell forward. They both squealed as Jess reached out for her, landed on her back, and Cherry fell on top of her. I was holding on to the rogue machine as tightly as I could, but it was fighting back valiantly and I could feel myself starting to slide off. “Somebody fucking unplug it!” I shouted again. Jess shouted something back at me, but I didn't understand her. “What?” Jess disentangled herself from Cherry and

lunged at the washing machine. She slammed her fist onto the dial. The machine gave a cough and one last shake that was violent enough to cause me to tumble off and onto the floor. Jess slid down the side of the machine and landed in a sitting position in front of it. She looked up at me angrily. “Why...don't...you...just...stop...it," she said through ragged breaths, each word blowing a few little bubbles up into the air around her. “I didn’t think of that,” I said. The machine suddenly made a deep whining sound and shook, and the three of us frantically scrambled away from it. There was one final thud and the washing machine fell silent. None of us moved for a few seconds. We stood still as if we thought any sudden movement would wake it up and give it a second wind. “I think it’s dead,” Jess finally said.

Cherry tried to jump to her feet a little too quickly and had to grab the side of the machine to right herself as she slipped forward. I tried not to focus on the way her wet shirt clung to her body, accentuating her tight curves. “I hate this laundry room," she shouted. She flailed her way through the suds and out the door, leaving Jess and I sitting alone in the water and bubbles. Jess turned to look at me. "It was nice to meet you."

Chapter Six

Gabriel

Part of me was still processing everything that happened when I got home that night. How could Cherry possibly still be a virgin? She was gorgeous, incredibly sexy, and fun to be around. The incident in the laundry room alone proved that she was almost impossible to resist. If Jess wasn’t there, I would have been tempted to strip her wet clothes off and give her a ride of my own, bubbles be damned. She was even more adorable when she came stomping back to the laundry room carrying a mop and bucket, so she could clean a path to the other washer to finish her laundry. She was resilient and independent, but I

still found myself wanting to swoop in and take care of her. I imagined that she had her choice of men and could happily work her way through them like any other woman with her looks and personality would. I couldn't decide if her revelation that it was a conscious choice made it more or less surprising to me. The thought immediately reminded me of that night, all those years ago, once again. The image of her standing there in lingerie was one that I always carried with me. I often wondered what would have happened if I hadn't turned her away that night. If I had acted on the primal hunger that I had for her. I had been intensely attracted to her back then, and now that the age difference didn’t loom over us, it was harder to keep my mind off her. Brent had been fiercely protective of Cherry and he made it clear he wanted me nowhere near his baby sister, but it was even harder now to look at her and see her as anything young and innocent.

I forced myself to turn from my thoughts of desire back to her announcement that she would agree to the contract. I was genuinely surprised when she told me that she had already made a decision. It was a huge decision to make and I had expected her to have a long, complicated thought process. Since my father told me that I had a year to have a family or at least the prospect of one, I was willing to wait for her for a few months if that was what it took. But she had seemed completely confident in her decision, and I suddenly felt excited. I didn't want to waste any time. The next day I had my team of lawyers draw up the specifics of the contract. It felt stiff and awkward to put something with Cherry into such formal legal terms, but the businessman in me knew that it was a necessity. No matter how close I was to Cherry's family or how much I thought I knew her, I had to remind myself that this was a business transaction. I

needed to make sure that the two of us, and our baby, were guarded in all the possible problems and situations that my legal team and I could come up. It was sobering to think of everything that could go wrong and what would have to happen in each situation, and by the time the lawyers had outlined several contingency plans for what would happen if Cherry absconded with the newborn, I was feeling fairly deflated. I left the room, entrusting the rest of the contract to the lawyers. I had made it clear that Cherry was to be as involved with the baby as she wanted to be and would have as much freedom as possible in visitation. I would be responsible for making decisions and providing financial support for the baby, along with Cherry and her mother. The rest, to me, was unnecessary details. I went back to my office, glancing at Cherry’s desk as I went. She wasn’t there, and I checked my watch. I figured that she must be out at lunch and quickly sent her a text, telling her that I would

swing by her apartment later that night so that we could finalize the contracts. Having her sign the papers was important, but it was only one of the reasons I wanted to see her that night. There was something that I wanted to give her and was too impatient to wait. The bear that I bought for the baby the day that I asked her was waiting at my house. Even though she wasn't pregnant yet, I wanted to give it to her now. I felt that it could be an inspiration to her. That it could serve as a reminder of the choice that she had made, and why she had made it. Giving the stuffed animal to her now also carried another motive. In two days I was leaving the country for three weeks on business and wouldn't be able to see her. That bear would be a reminder to keep her focused until I got back. I had already reached out to the doctors and made an appointment a couple of days after I got home so that Cherry could get checked out. Hopefully, then

we would find out how and when we could start the IVF process. The IVF doctor had assured me that since there was only one donor involved, me, the entire process had the potential to go much faster and smoother than typically. It might only take a few months. It was hard to believe I was that close to being a father.

There was a light rain falling as I pulled into her building’s parking lot that night. I had driven one of my classic collectible cars and was thankful for deciding to keep the top up instead of lowering it to enjoy the night air like I usually did. The rain fell progressively harder as I looked around for a covered spot, but everything was out in the open. I grumbled to myself as I parked in the closest spot to Cherry's apartment, wishing that I had an umbrella so that she wouldn't have to walk in the rain. I finally resigned myself to the fact that

rummaging under the seats was in vain and rushed out of the car toward her door. She came out holding an umbrella and I grinned at her. "Good planning," I said. I took the umbrella from her and held it high enough that we could both get under it as we walked quickly to the car. "No limo today?" she teased. "Not today. I haven't had a chance to take this one out in a while." The rain increased even more in volume and she tucked closer to me. "I hope it's amphibious," she said. "We'll see." Unfortunately, that night I learned a very important lesson. Vintage cars have feelings and get offended when you make fun of them.

Things went smoothly enough for a few miles. After that, the car started to hiccup, shuddering and skipping as we continued on. Two miles later I was willing the car, silently at first and then out loud, to keep going. Another three more blocks and we were stopped on the side of the road and Cherry was laughing hysterically. "I don't see what's so funny about this," I said. "I'm sitting in an old broken-down car by the side of the road… with a freakin’ billionaire." She laughed even harder and I wondered if there was some backstory or inside joke that I didn’t understand. The sound of her laugh joined the rhythm of the raindrops on the oiled cloth of the roof and it filled me with a surge of emotion and need. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to pull her into my lap and lose myself in her. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my chauffeur. It was his night off, but I hoped that

he would answer. It went straight to voicemail and I couldn’t help but let out a groan. A few more calls produced nothing but confirmation that I needed to let my staff off in rotation rather than all at once. My last resort was roadside assistance, who reassured me that they would have their nearest tow truck to me in no more than two and a half hours. Apparently, nobody can fucking drive in the rain. "Alright," I said, turning to Cherry. "We have a decision to make." "Okay." "My house is less than half a mile from here. We can wait for the tow truck or we can make a run for it. It's up to you." "What kind of shoes are you wearing?" "Does that really matter?"

"I can't bear the thought of ruining a good pair of shoes." "I'm wearing Italian loafers." "Good loafers?" "I don't know, they're just one of the pair I wear when I'm not at the office." "I don't think it’s going to work." "Why?" "Because you can't run in fancy loafers." "Why not?" "It's right there in the name. They're made to loaf." "What does that even mean?" "You know… like loafing around the house." "I don't think I loaf."

"You should try it." "I tell you what. If we make it to my house, you can show me how to loaf." Without another word, Cherry opened the door and flung herself out into the rain. I grabbed her umbrella and jumped after her. She was jogging down the side of the street and I chased after her, trying and failing to convince her to get under the umbrella. She turned around to shake her head at me and her feet slipped in the mud that had formed on the shoulder of road. There was a moment when she seemed to pause, a kinetic sculpture of impending doom, and then she toppled. I rushed up to her, squinting against the rain that was now coming down in sheets. Cherry was trying to scramble to her feet as I reached for her, but her hand was slippery from the rain and the mud and she dropped back down to the ground. I plunged the tip of the umbrella into the dirt beside me to try

to anchor myself and reached for her again. This time she gave a tug, bringing me down into the mud with her. I shouted as I landed, but I could hear her laughing again and my own laugh bubbled out of my throat. I remembered when she was younger and would pester Brent and I until we would let her into our football games. Not wanting to hurt her, I would scoop her up against me and bring her down to the ground in a modified tackle. She would always squeal and wriggle to get away from me, but even as I released my grip she would stay still for a few more moments before scurrying away. I recreated that now, lunging toward her and wrapping my arms around her, causing us to land on our sides. Cherry let out a squeal and I expected her to try and escape my grip. Instead, she pushed her weight forward, catching me off guard so that I tumbled onto my back and she landed on top of me. I felt her body crush against mine and wrapped my arms around her waist, rolling her onto her back

again so that my body enveloped hers. I looked down into her face and felt the playful grin on mine disappear. Her expression softened, and I saw heat rise in her eyes just like the first time she saw me in the office. I lowered my mouth to hers, catching her lips in a kiss. It was a compulsion, a need I had to fill, and I pulled away with horror when I realized what I had done. Cherry was beginning to say something when headlights washed over us, temporarily blinding me. I squinted and lifted a hand to shield my eyes while trying to get off Cherry. The car slid to a stop beside us and I recognized it as my chauffeur’s personal car. The passenger-side window rolled down and the overhead light popped on. I could see Harlan, my chauffeur, another cherished member of my staff who had been with my family since before I was born, leaned across the center console toward us.

"What in the hell are you doing?" I got to my feet and reached down for Cherry. "We slipped in the mud," I said. She grasped my forearm this time and managed to get control of her feet beneath her. "Mm-hmm," Harlan said, clearly unconvinced. "I bet you did. Where is your car?" "A bit down the road," I said. "It’s not far from here. It broke down. You must have passed right by it." He shook his head. "I didn't see it," he said. "Tow truck must have gotten it." Two and a half hours my ass. "We didn't hear or see it," I argued. "Well, unless that car drove itself home or slid

down into the ditch and disappeared into the Earth, the tow truck got it." I couldn't believe that I had been so wrapped up in Cherry that I had managed to miss the lights and commotion of a tow truck a quarter-mile away. "The rain must have muffled everything," I said. "It does that. Well, come on now. Get in this car. I'll get you home." "Are you sure?" "I've been doing it every day for the last forty years save Sundays, holidays, and deaths in the family. I think I can manage." "But your car," I argued. Harlan gave an exasperated sigh. "Would you rather I go back to the house and get one of your cars?"

"No. I just don't want to get mud in your car." "In the time that you've been standing out there getting soaked to the bone and fussing, we could have gotten all the way back. So why don't you get in here and we'll deal with the mess later?" I reached for the door handle and opened it, ushering Cherry in first before tossing the umbrella in after her and joining her in the backseat. "Thank you, Harlan," I said. "I'll get it cleaned for you." "You bet you will."

It only took a few minutes to drive home and I was relieved to see my car sitting in the driveway. "Look at that," Harlan said. "It beat you home and is waiting for you." I was glad that the tow truck had managed to get

the car back to my house, even if they weren't capable of notifying me or noticing that we were on the side of the road and might need assistance. "I really appreciate this, Harlan," I said as Cherry and I climbed out of the car into a night that had suddenly become clear and still. He nodded. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked. "No," I said. "Thank you so much." "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Gabriel. Miss Cherry." "Goodnight, Harlan," she replied warmly. We watched as he drove away and then she turned to me. "I love that your staff isn't afraid of you." I looked at her quizzically. "Why would they be?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You're extremely wealthy and powerful. Around the office people talk about you in these hushed tones – even Blake almost hyperventilated after he spoke to you. Everyone is intimidated by you. But your staff seems to love you." "They're like my family," I said. "Edna worked in the office when my grandfather was a few years away from retiring and then was with my father all those years. Harlan was the driver for my parents and his wife, Emma, was my housekeeper growing up. She took care of me after school and was always there for me when my parents weren’t. Now Emma and her daughter run my house." "That's it? That's all the staff you have?" She seemed surprised that my house wasn't crawling with scores of servants. "It's all I need," I said.

"If they worked for your parents, why do they work for you now? I mean, your father still works and I'm sure that he needs staff at his house. Why are they with you?" "You know when people are making their will and they have their children go around their house with sticky notes to point out what they want? Well, that's what I did." Cherry's face dropped. "You did what?" "Yep. Blue sticky note. Right in the middle of Harlan's forehead." I gestured like I was putting the note into place. "Fortunately for me, Dad decided that I could go ahead and bring them with me." She continued to stare at me and finally I laughed. "I'm joking," I said. "What do you think happened? When I took over my first office, Edna

worked there with my father. Because she was already familiar with the work we did there, she stayed there with me while my father went to work in one of the new offices with new staff. Like I said, Emma has been with me my whole life, so when I came back into town and bought my house, I asked my father if it would be alright if I hired the pair of them to work with me. Of course, I would help him find a new staff for his house. Everyone agreed, and they came to work for me.” "So… you poached them." "It's better than labeling them with a sticky note, right?" "That's true." The moonlight was peeking through the clouds now and it illuminated Cherry's face. The kiss earlier hung in the air between us, but neither of us said anything about it. I gestured to the house.

"Do you want to come inside?" I asked. "The contracts are ready and there's something I want to give you." She eyed the door. "Your real house," she said, sounding impressed. "Should I be honored to be invited here?" "I'm not sure about honored, but I don't usually bring people here." I reached into my pocket and grimaced at the cold, squishy feeling of the rain and mud accumulated in there. I withdrew my now filthy keys and let us in the house. "Let me get us some towels. I’ll be right back." I rushed to the laundry room and brought back an armful of towels from the large cabinet where Emma kept the linens. I knew she wasn't going to be happy when she found the soppy, dirty mess the next day. Hopefully Harlan would give her a bit of

a heads-up tonight. When I came back to the foyer, Cherry was still standing exactly where I had left her, as if she was hesitant to head any further into the house. I offered her a few towels and we both tried to dry and wipe ourselves off as best we could. "I'm sorry about the whole rolling around in the mud thing," she said. I shook my head. "It was fun," I said. "Not as cleansing as the detergent bubbles the other day though. Maybe we should have coordinated those incidents in reverse order." We exchanged a smile and my body tightened, responding to her and to the memory of that brief kiss. She handed the towels back to me and I nodded toward the study, giving her directions to it and telling her that I would meet her there. I went and dropped the towels off in the laundry room and

returned to find her perched on the edge of one of the leather chairs in the study. "I don't want to get anything messy," she said. "It's fine," I said. "When we're all through with this, if you want to take a fast shower and rinse off, you can wear some of my sweats." She nodded, looking grateful. I sat in my chair and pulled the manila envelope containing the contract out of the drawer. I slid one copy toward her and Cherry picked it up, starting to scan it. We spent a few minutes going over it, each initialing and signing, going through every detail carefully until we reached the end. Both of us exhaled. "So, I guess that's done," Cherry said. "Do you feel good about it?" I asked. "Is there anything that you want to revise or add?" She shook her head.

"No," she said. "I think everything looks good." "Okay. Well, remember, there is a clause for renegotiations down the road. You will have the right to bring up issues that we might not have foreseen and have them put into the contract." Her expression darkened slightly. "I don't like to think about any issues that might come up that aren't already included in there," she said. "That was a pretty extensive extenuating circumstances section." "I know," I said. "The lawyers seemed to be very enthusiastic about that portion. I think it was some sort of game of make-believe for them." She still looked worried and I stood up. Now would be the perfect time to give her the baby gift. "I'll be right back." I got the bear from the living room and brought it, along with a small box, into the study. Cherry

looked up at me when I came back, and a soft smile formed on her lips. "What's that?" she asked. "I got this for the baby," I said, offering the bear to her. "I thought that since I'm going to be gone for a while and we're going to get started on the entire process when I get back, having it would help get you ready." "That’s so sweet," she said. "I also brought you this." She settled the bear into the chair beside her and reached for the box I held out to her. "What is it?" "Open it." She put the box on her lap, seeming to search for a few seconds to find a section of her pants that weren't muddy. She moved the tissue inside the box

aside and her eyes lifted up to me. "Another bear?" she asked. She looked down again at the smaller, worn bear settled in the box. "It was mine when I was little," I said. "It went everywhere with me. I remember the first time that Brent came over to my house to spend the night and the bear was sitting on the bookshelf in my room. I had taken it off my bed but didn't want to take it all the way out of my room because I was still really attached to it. I felt really stupid about it and was worried that he was going to make fun of me for having it, and that he wasn't going to want to be my friend anymore." "What did he do?" "He picked the bear up and brought it over to where we were playing superheroes. He grabbed a bandana and wrapped it around its neck to make a

cape and said that it was now Super Bear." Cherry laughed. "That's the best." "I packed it away when I got older but went looking for it when this all came up. I think that the baby should have it in their room." Cherry touched the top of the old bear's head and then set the box on the chair beside her. She stood up and stepped toward me, her eyes filled with emotion. Suddenly she wrapped her arms around me, tucking her head against my chest. "Thank you," she whispered. I held her close to me for a few moments and then she stepped back, her face tilting up to look at me. She looked so incredibly beautiful in that moment, so sweet and alluring. I couldn't resist her. I leaned down and touched my lips to hers again. She didn't pull back, but melted into me, bringing

her body even closer, deepening our kiss. I pressed my hands to the small of her back and pulled her closer, touching the tip of my tongue to her lips to gently coax them open. The touch seemed too much for her and Cherry stepped back, her cheeks red with color. "I think that I should go ahead and get that shower if it's still alright with you," she said. "Of course," I replied. I told her how to get to the guest bathroom, knowing there was fresh towels there, and told her I would bring a change of clothes. She nodded and walked out of the study, turning to glance back at me over her shoulder once more before disappearing down the hallway. I drew in a sharp breath. I heard her footsteps going up the stairs and I knew that it would only take her a few seconds to get to the bathroom. Images filled my mind of her closing the door and standing there uninhibited,

letting each article of wet, muddy clothing drop from her fingertips onto the tiled floor before stepping into the water and allowing it to stream down her sexy body. I could picture each individual droplet touching her skin, gliding over each one of her curves. I imagined Cherry tilting her head back to wash her hair as streams of water poured over her generous breasts and down her belly to her thighs. I forced myself to go to my bedroom and grab a pair of sweats and socks. They wouldn't fit her, but at least they would warm, and cover, her up. Finally I followed the sound of the water to the guest bathroom. The feelings inside me were threatening to boil over and I knew that those kisses weren't enough for me. She may have ended the kiss in the study, but before she stepped back, I could feel her desire for me. I knew that she was feeling the same yearning that I was. I needed her. I had to possess her. I got to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Cherry called out, her voice muffled by the water. "I have clothes for you," I said. My throat was tight with the desire that I felt for her and my voice came out low and mumbled. "I can't hear you, just come in," she called back. I reached for the glass doorknob and slowly opened the door. Steam had already filled the room and it enveloped me in warmth and the fresh smell of soap. I walked into the room and set the clothes down on the vanity. My eyes were locked on the frosted glass of the shower door. I could only see a hazy outline of her body as she bathed, and I was instantly grew hard knowing that she was naked only a few feet away from me. Even if I had the conviction to resist her before, I didn’t now. I didn't want to resist her. I wanted to take her into my arms and do what I should have so many years ago.

"Gabriel? Are you there?" she asked. The shower door slid open a few inches as she peered out, keeping her body concealed behind the glass. It only intensified how sexy she was, as if she was waiting for me to find her, to discover the treasure waiting for me. Without bothering to respond, I crossed the bathroom and stepped up to the side of the shower. I tucked my finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to mine, capturing her mouth in another kiss. She didn't pull away this time. Instead, her lips parted softly, and I was able to sweep the tip of my tongue across the inside of her tender mouth. I kissed her for a few moments before stepping back. Not taking my eyes away from her, I grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it off. It fell to the floor to join her pile of clothes and I heard Cherry draw in a breath. She didn't retreat into the shower, but I saw her fingers tighten around the side of the door as she continued to stare at me. I released the button at the front of my

pants and lowered the zipper. Soon they too had been cast aside. I didn't want to move too fast. I didn't want to scare her or make her feel like I wasn't distinctly aware of what was about to happen. When she didn't move and didn't ask me to stop, I peeled away my underwear and kicked them out of the way. She kept her eyes focused on my chest and then stepped back into the water. It didn't seem like she was afraid or that she was trying to hide from me, so I approached the edge of the tub. I ran my fingertips along the glass, tracing the curve of her silhouette. A moment later her fingertip touched the glass and she repeated what I had done, tracing what she saw of me through the frosted door. Her hand flattened, her fingers stretching to spread across the glass, and I reciprocated. The size of my hand engulfed her tiny one. Finally, her hand left the glass and came around to the side of the door, taking hold of it so that she could push it slightly

out of the way. I rested my hand on hers and pressed the door open enough so that I could step into the tub with her. Neither of us said anything. We didn't need to. No words could define this, and we certainly needed no introduction. I stepped into the water and finally let my eyes take her in. All of her. Seeing her naked in front of me allowed me to fully appreciate every sweet curve and arch of her delicious body. It was sexier now than I could have ever imagined and knowing that no one else had touched her, no one had appreciated that body the way it was meant to be, made my fingertips tingle and my cock twitch. She deserved to be worshipped. I combed my fingers through her wet hair and let them trail along the curve of her neck and onto her shoulder. She let out a breath as my fingertips brushed against her collarbone and then up the

front of her throat and onto her lips. I felt Cherry kiss my fingertips, briefly opening her lips just enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath on them. I stepped closer and rested my other hand on the swell of her hip. I filled the space in front of her, silently begging her to touch me. Finally, she lifted her hand and ran it down my chest before resting both palms on it. Her hands trailed lightly down my chest and past my stomach, her fingertips tracing the ridges of the muscles as if she was attempting to memorize them. The touch of her skin against mine sent a shock through me and I bit my bottom lip, closing my eyes for a moment to bring myself back under control. This wasn't the time to rush. I had no reason to hurry. As much as I wanted her, I refused to waste even a second now that I had her in my arms. I had thought about this so many times and I was going to explore her in every way possible.

I craved the touch of her skin. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to coax new sounds out of her. I wanted to discover what drove her wild. I wanted to lose myself in her. With any other woman it would have been easy to just act on my primitive urges and then be done. Not with her. Not with Cherry. She was finally standing in front of me, vulnerable and exposed, and I wasn't going to miss anything. I traced the curve of her jaw and then across her closed eyes, feeling the fluttering of her eyelashes on the pad of my thumb. She opened them and gazed at me, welcoming my touch, silently offering herself to me like she had all those years ago. I bent down and closed the drain, so the tub would fill with the water still streaming from the dual showerheads positioned on opposite walls. It was like we were standing in the rain again as I brushed my lips across hers. They were slightly swollen from our earlier kissing and it made them even more

intoxicating. Cherry tilted her head to press her mouth further into mine, seeking more of my touch. I happily obliged, crushing my mouth against hers while her lips parted beneath mine, finally letting me taste her mouth with my tongue. We stepped closer to one another, shattering the thin barrier that had existed been between us. Neither of us was questioning this anymore. We weren't thinking. We were acting on pure instinct. I loved what I was experiencing and knew that I needed more. Cherry arched her back slightly and I felt her body brush against mine, her breasts pressing into my chest and the apex of her thighs resting against my leg. I was already hard when I stepped into the shower with her, but I was aching with need now, my erection straining toward her. I took another step closer and felt my hard length nestle against her skin, pressing into her belly. Cherry gasped in surprise, and I met the sound with a deeper kiss. I tightened my hips to nudge harder

against her, willing her into the euphoria that I was beginning to feel, urging her to give herself fully to me. Cherry's mouth opened slightly, and I plunged in my tongue to tangle with hers. She ran her hands back up my stomach and onto my shoulders before wrapping them tightly around my neck. The weight of her body pulled on me and I swept one arm around her waist to hold her, stabilizing her, letting her know that she was safe. Cherry stepped away from me and I saw her reach for a bottle of body wash sitting on the ledge. She filled her palm with the translucent gel and rubbed her palms together to coax it into a thick lather before bringing her hands to my chest again. She ran them along my body, tenderly washing me while exploring. I felt like she was nurturing me, showing me in her own way that I was safe and cherished. When she finished, I rinsed away the

suds and kissed her again. I lowered myself down into the water that had begun to collect in the tub, guiding her down with me with the pressure of my kiss and the touch of my hands on hers. I sat down and turned her just as she was sitting down into the water. Positioning her sitting between my legs, I guided Cherry back to lie on my chest. The position allowed the water from both of the showerheads to continue to stream down on us while keeping our heads out of it. She rested her head back against my shoulder and I kissed her cheek, then her cheekbone, then her temple. Her hands came to my thighs on either side of her and she ran them down to my knees and then back up toward my hips. Part of me was surprised by her forwardness and her apparent desire for more than just feeling my skin. But I reminded myself that these feelings were not new for her. She had been thinking of me just as I had been thinking of her. I ran my hands up her back before gripping

her shoulders. Cherry arched her back, allowing my hands to slip slightly further so that they just brushed the swells of her breasts. I wanted more. My palms cupped over both breasts and kneaded into her soft flesh. I could feel her tight, hard nipples pressing into the center of each hand and I groaned at the way her body responded to me. Cherry rose up slightly and turned her head so that she could kiss me on the side of my neck. I felt the tip of her tongue split between her lips and run across my skin experimentally. There was an openness to everything that she was doing, but also a sense of shyness. I knew that she was unsure of what she was doing, and I wanted to carry her through it, be her guide and reassure her. I wanted her to follow her instincts and allow her body to take over, so we could follow through on what we both had been waiting so long to do. I massaged her breasts for a few more moments

before letting my hands glide further down her body. Her skin was wet and hot, seeming to hint at the blissful indulgence that was waiting for me. I brought my hands down to her hips and rested them there for a moment. I could feel her body shiver as I ran my fingertips from side to side. I knew that I was close to her in a way that no one else had ever been and I wanted to give her a chance to get accustomed to the feeling, but I also didn't want to hesitate too long. I wanted her to be caught up in the ecstasy of what I could offer her, and to discover all that she was capable of offering in return. I could feel her thighs pressed against mine on either side as her legs opened slightly. It was clear that her instincts were taking over. Her body was showing me what it wanted, like it had a mind of its own. I took the invitation eagerly, dipping my fingers lower so that they slipped across her tight pink bud. That first intimate touch drew a gasp

from Cherry and her fingers tightened around my thigh. I didn't stop. I brought my hand lower and touched her soft entrance. It was already open, wet and hot and ready for me. I turned my hand slightly so that I could brush my thumb over her clit again and felt another rush of silky wetness between her thighs. I gathered some of that silky wetness and brought it to her peak to allow my fingers to glide uninhibited. I traced my fingers around her clit in small circles, gently drawing it from beneath its hood until I could bring out its most sensitive reactions. Cherry clutched my arm, her gasps turning to whimpers as new feelings rushed through her body. I wondered if she had ever touched herself, if she experimented and explored her own body. Even if she had, it was obvious that the way that I was touching her was bringing her to a level of pleasure she had never experienced before. She was starting to let herself go, opening to the possibilities of what

we could do without hesitation. The way her body moved in response caused her to rub up against me, her soft skin rubbing against my cock, making it even harder to stay focused. My hand delved through her delicate folds, pushing her forward, when suddenly she tightened her grip harder on my arm and pulled my fingers away from her body. She looked at me with nervousness in her eyes. "Is something wrong?" I asked. "It's too intense," she said, sounding breathless. "I feel like I'm losing control of myself." I smiled and kissed her shoulder, then her lips, then the side of her neck. "Don't worry," I said softly, drawing my lips up the side of her neck to nibble lightly on her earlobe. "I've got you. Let go. Let it happen." She turned to look at me, her eyes briefly fluttering down and then coming back up to mine.

"I've been waiting for you for so many years," she said. "I want this to be exactly what I had always imagined. When I come, I want it to be with you inside of me." I moaned in response to her words that felt erotic as hell, yet so innocent. I wrapped my arms around her, letting her settle back against me so that we could lay in the water together. The water calmed and soothed our bodies, but my mind was still racing. Finally, Cherry turned off the showerheads and started to drain the tub. As the water slipped away, it revealed her body once more to me, making the anticipation I felt even stronger and more intense than before. Cherry had thrown away all her inhibitions in this moment with me and I was going to ensure that every single one of her dreams came true.

Chapter Seven

Cherry

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest when I stood and stepped out of the tub onto the soft teal bath mat, I worried I would never get it under control again. My hands trembled as I reached for the towel sitting on the bench beneath the window, brushing it across my skin to dry off the lingering droplets of water. I felt Gabriel step up behind me and reach around me to pick up his own towel. His body brushed against mine and my body pushed back, as if it was seeking him on its own. When I finished drying myself, I turned and took the towel out of Gabriel's hand, and gently patted him dry. I brought the towel across his shoulders and down his chest and belly. Then I dried each

arm. They were strong and muscular, but I had felt them around me and I knew they could also be tender and protective. His breathing was slow and deep as I pressed my hand against the center of his chest so that I could feel his heartbeat. It was fast, slamming against his rib cage just like my own. His long, thick erection was straining toward me and I finally allowed myself to look at it, to admire it. It seemed impossibly big, intimidating, even, and yet I couldn't wait to touch it. Instincts were driving me forward as an irresistible feeling of compulsion drove my desire to a level I have never experienced. I leaned forward and kissed the center of Gabriel's chest. I continued my kisses as I slowly lowered myself to my knees in front of him. I let out a breath as I nuzzled his belly and felt his cock jump in response. I had been longing for Gabriel for so many

years. The sting of him rejecting me in that room hadn't detracted from the desire that I still felt. Now that I had him here with me, I wanted to experience everything that had filled my mind during all those breathless, sleepless nights. The desire I had first experienced as I watched him from a distance, and when I ached for him when he was gone. I kissed Gabriel's belly and nuzzled into the coarse, thick hair that trailed down the apex of his thighs and the base of his delectable cock. His skin had the fresh, clean smell of the soap from the shower, but the huskiness of his smell remained. I knew the smell of him. I had drawn in that smell during every hug, during every opportunity that I had gotten to be close to him in the last few days. But this was different. The smell was stronger now, deeper, as if it was luring me in. I felt Gabriel's hand rest on top of mine on his thigh before guiding it to his shaft. I wrapped the other hand around the back of his leg and

positioned my palm against his erection. He closed my fingers, tightening my grip and starting to lead me in stroking him. Each stroke started at the base and went up over the shining head, spreading the slick fluid that had gathered at the tip. When he felt that he had sufficiently instructed me on how to touch him, he let his hand fall away, leaving me to stroke him on my own. I was drawn to the fluid and gathered more of it on my fingertips, massaging it into his skin the same way he had earlier when we were sitting in the tub. Reflecting on the sensations of pleasure that he created in me when he rubbed me earlier sent a thrill through my body that settled between my thighs. I needed more of him. Gabriel's groans at my touch only heightened my arousal and I felt my mouth water. Leaning forward, I brushed the tip of my tongue across the head. He drew in a breath and I felt his hand come to rest on the back of my head. It wasn't demanding or forceful. Instead, it was encouraging,

as if he was reassuring me that my instincts were correct. I drew a long lick up the underside of his shaft, tracing it around the head, before returning to the base. I glanced up at Gabriel. I expected to see him with his eyes closed from what he was feeling, but instead he was staring down at me. His eyes were locked on me as he intently focused on every movement of my mouth and tongue. I wasn't embarrassed. I didn't feel exposed or uncomfortable. Under his unwavering gaze, I felt beautiful and empowered. My confidence grew with each new discovery I made about my body and his. This wasn’t purely physical, but was also about deepening the connection between us, and what was forming in every moment we shared. I kept my eyes on his as I opened my mouth. He tucked his hips down just enough to slip between my lips and I took in as much of him as I could possibly hold in my mouth. My hand tightened around the base again and then I slowly, gradually,

withdrew my mouth so that my lips and tongue could feel every inch of his length. His hand continued to offer gentle support to my head and I felt him begin to guide me into a gradual rhythm. I let myself relax and felt him push deeper into my mouth, until the tip of his erection touched the entrance of my throat. He suddenly growled, and I stopped, completely removing his cock from my mouth. I was afraid I had done something wrong, but seeming to sense my worry, he shook his head. "I need a break," he said breathlessly. "It's not time for it to be over yet." He reached down and took hold of my upper arms so that he could help me back to my feet. I stayed as close to him as possible so that my body stroked his as I sat up. The tips of our noses touched, and he nuzzled my face, briefly resting our foreheads together. I ran my tongue across his lips

and kissed him. Our breath filled the air between us in meaningful silence. I lifted my eyes to look into his. I was waiting for the next step. Waiting for him to guide me. His hand brushed down my arm and our fingers intertwined so that he could lead me out of the bathroom and through the house into his bedroom. I knew that he had let his staff off for the night and that the house was completely empty, but I was still pleased when he closed the door shut behind us. I wanted to indulge in total privacy. I wanted to hide away from the rest of the world, to keep him totally and completely mine for as long as we were lost in each other. Gabriel stepped up behind me and I felt his body mold to mine. His touch warmed every inch of me and I felt fully and blissfully surrounded by him. He kissed the side of my neck and then across the back of my shoulders. His hands rested on my hips and his fingertips pressed firmly into my skin. I let the touch turn me so that I

was facing him and wrapped my arms around his neck again. Our mouths found each other, and we kissed with increasing passion as he led me backwards towards his bed. I felt the backs of my legs touch the edge of the mattress. I gasped when Gabriel broke the kiss and scooped me up in his arms, laying me gently on the center of the bed. I lay sideways, stretched across the bed rather than laying my head on the pillows. I waited for him to come down with me, but he didn't. Instead, he knelt by the side of the bed and a shiver in my belly told me that I was about to discover something incredible. His hand touched my chest and paused there as if mirroring the way that I had felt for his heartbeat. I knew that mine was fast and hard, racing like it never had before. Finally, his fingers began to move, and they made their way down my body as they had in the shower. He stopped when his hand was positioned on my belly between my hip bones

and he began to massage my hypersensitive peak with his thumb. The thrill of his touch was just as intense as the first time and I let my legs fall further apart so that he had more access to explore my wet, sensitive flesh. I cried out as waves of unfamiliar sensations washed over me, and I realized that he had taken his thumb away from my core and replaced it with his mouth. Without hesitation Gabriel plunged his tongue into me, sucking softly. I felt like I was falling, like I was leaving reality behind and being elevated to another plane of existence. Gabriel took his tongue out from my slit and began to trace my full lips, giving expert ministrations as he seemed determine to lick every accessible inch. I dug my fingers into his hair, trying to draw him closer so that I wouldn't lose even a single ounce of the delirious pleasure he was giving me. I resisted pulling him away so that I could escape the feeling of losing control and find relief from the burning

intensity what we were doing. My legs were shaking, and I drew them up, causing my thighs to fall further apart and my body to open even more to him. A deep pressure was building inside of me and I knew that I was reaching the very brink. I couldn't hold myself back any more. I cried out and arched toward him, and Gabriel seemed to sense my desperation. He got to his feet and I positioned myself on the bed so that I was laying with my head on the pillows. I opened my arms for him, not wanting to be without his touch for even a second longer than I had to. Gabriel climbed up on the bed with me and crawled over so that he was kneeling over me, staring deeply into my eyes. Finally, he rested down, stretching over me so that our bodies entangled, and our skin pressed together from our shoulders to our feet. He kissed me softly, balanced on his elbows so that he could occasionally lift his head away and look down at me. I moved my legs out from beneath his

and drew them up beside me again, allowing him to settle between my thighs and the tip of his erection to nudge at my opening. My breath caught in my throat and I lifted my hips, needing him. Gabriel moaned as the tip dipped inside me and I ran my hands along the muscles of his back, appreciating the tension in them as he held himself still over me. "Are you sure?" he whispered. "I always have been." He let out a long sigh and it seemed that the heat of his breath and the unspoken emotion it carried with it absorbed through my skin and into the very center of me. I was ignited with desire and had never felt more alive. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom wrapper, tearing it open, and slipping it over his length. He pressed forward slowly and slid further into me, stretching me open. I felt pain as my tight, inexperienced

walls pulsed around him, but it was a delicious, bittersweet pain and I lifted my hips a little further, relishing the feeling. Gabriel paused for only a second and then flexed his hips so that he could sink even deeper. I felt my eyes flutter closed and my mouth open at the sensation. I could feel my body growing accustomed to the feeling him filling me. It was a pure, visceral experience that went beyond pleasure, beyond sensation. I felt a sense of fulfillment as my body embraced him. It was overwhelming. My walls began to relax around him and Gabriel rolled his hips forward in response. Each long, slow, gentle stroke brought him deeper until I finally felt his hip bones rest against mine. My body opened to him, as new waves of hot, silky wetness allowed him to glide into me at an even faster pace. His thrusts became faster and harder, the movements dizzying as the powerful pleasure he had given me with his fingers and his tongue, peaked in our bodies

crashing together. I had been so close to the edge when Gabriel had taken his tongue off me that it didn't take long for me to feel my orgasm building again. I didn't want to stop it this time. I didn't want to ever break the luscious rhythms or the rich, velvety pleasure I was experiencing. The deep grunting sounds that poured from Gabriel told me that he was there with me, climbing alongside me. Spiraling out of control. I gripped Gabriel as hard as I could while the sensations grew impossibly intense and I shook and trembled around him until there was a final rush of pressure and then a cascade of release. I screamed while I rode the euphoric waves of contractions that exploded throughout my body. Gabriel rose up onto his hands and thrust into me harder, finally filling me as deeply as he could. He threw his head back and let out an animal-like roar as I felt his cock throb inside me. Hard pulses of his cock met

each of the tight spasms of my walls, drawing him further inside me, milking him as he spilled out into the condom inside me. We gasped for breath and clung to each other. After several long minutes, he pulled out of me, chucking the used condom in a nearby trashcan. Gabriel then dropped down onto me and I felt his weight push me down into the bed and surround me with the heady scent of our lovemaking. His mouth found mine and we kissed languidly, my eyes growing heavy with the satiated bliss of my body, and I let myself fall asleep in his arms.

This wasn't the way this was supposed to happen. Or maybe it was. I wasn't sure. It had felt so right. It was incredible and perfect in every way. Yet, as I slipped into my desk chair at

the office the next day, I felt like maybe I hadn't thought this all the way through. I had met with Gabriel to sign the contract, thinking that putting the details down on paper and reviewing them would clarify everything. It would make the entire situation clear and neither of us would have any questions. Now I found myself wondering how this situation was going to unfold. The hundreds of pages of formal, stilted contract had featured dramatic legalese that covered everything from me conceiving multiples, to what would happen if there was a sudden natural disaster that required evacuation, depending on which one of us was nearest to our child at the time. But it definitely hadn't mentioned what would happen if the two of us ended up in bed together. I looked up as Gabriel walked past me, but he didn't look my way at all. I would have expected a reaction like that would hurt, but somehow it put me more at ease. He didn't look angry and there

was no smug look on his face like there would have been if he had scored another conquest. Instead, he looked distracted by the tasks he had to wrap up in the last few hours he would be working in the office before leaving for his three-week business trip. This cemented our night together in my mind as an isolated, one-time experience. It was something that had been building between us for so long that it seemed almost inevitable. Now we can try to move beyond it and focus on the task at hand. Mid-morning, I got up from my desk and walked over to the elevator. I was on a mission. The entire time that I was riding and elevator and walking down the hallway, I was attempting to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. I could feel myself rediscovering how wrapped up in Gabriel I was when we were younger. Back then, thoughts of him had taken over my life and I hadn't been able to concentrate on anything else. I often wondered if

it was those feelings that kept me from dating much before Anthony. I knew that I couldn't let that happen again. I couldn't let myself fall for Gabriel. The agreement that we had come signed and sealed in a very detailed legal document was purely business. The fact that we had agreed that I would be very involved with raising the baby and have extensive visitation rights, including having it when he was traveling on business, didn't detract from the fact that what I was doing was a financial transaction. I ensured that he would have the baby he needed, and he made sure that my mother had the care she required. I needed to remind myself of that and not let myself start daydreaming about anything beyond it. That's why I needed to do this. I straightened my shoulders and marched directly over to Blake's desk. He looked slightly startled but pleased when he saw me walking

towards them. "Hi, Cherry. What a nice surprise." "Hi, Blake,” I said. "How is your day been going?" "It's fine," he said. "Nothing too exciting, really." "Do you want to join me for lunch? I can't promise how exciting it will be, but it can’t be that bad.” It might have been the worst attempt I had ever made at asking somebody out. And that included the time I decided I was going to be one of those brave, liberated college women and ask out my TA. Even standing up in the crowded lecture hall, and getting my backpack strap caught in the chair, flipping me on my ass in front of two hundred people, didn't feel quite as awkward as this did. But I kept a smile plastered on my face and did my best

to not let him know how uncomfortable I was. I told myself that I wouldn't always feel this way. I was only feeling like this because I had convinced myself that I wasn’t dateable, that I wasn't worthy of someone’s love and attention. I needed to prove to myself that I capable of dating. Spending time with Blake was exactly what I needed to keep me distanced from Gabriel and remind me that my life was going to go on after this was over. "That would be fantastic," Blake replied with a grin. "Great," I said. "Why don't we meet in the lobby at 12:30?" He nodded in agreement while I tried to ignore the group of men gathered around the cubicle across from Blake's, who were doing a horrible job of pretending that they were deeply engrossed in the file they were discussing rather than listening in on our conversation.

"That would be perfect," Blake said. I smiled, ignoring the men nudging each other suggestively, and walked away before anything could go horribly wrong.

Having lunch with Blake again wasn't as uncomfortable as I anticipated it would be. It wasn't thrilling, but he was pleasant, and it was nice to chat with him. I knew that I felt absolutely nothing for him, but I had at least taken a step in the right direction. Gabriel didn't seem quite as casual about it, however. When I walked out of the elevator, I saw him standing over my desk. He openly glared at me as I approached. I tilted my head at him defiantly. "Is there something wrong?" I asked. "Where were you?" he asked. "I was at lunch," I said. "Just like I am every

other day at this time." "Were you with someone?" I tucked my purse into the bottom drawer of the desk and sat down. "Yes," I said, not feeling as though I had any reason to hide it. "With that Blake guy again?" "Again, not that I think that it's any of your business, but yes. He and I went out for lunch." "I need you to come into my office and talk to me. Right now," he snapped. Gabriel turned on his heel and stomped into his office. I followed him, feeling somewhat like I was being called into the principal's office. He shut the door behind me and turned to face me before I was even able to get to one of the chairs by his desk. "You can't do that anymore," he said.

"What? Go to lunch?" I felt strangely defensive and didn’t quite understand why. "Go to lunch with him." "I don’t remember seeing anything in my employee handbook about not being permitted to date other people in the company, especially someone who works in a completely different department." I hated how it sounded like I had been on a date with Blake. It certainly didn’t feel like one. But it was obvious that was what Gabriel thought, so I carried on with it. "There isn't anything in company policy that forbids it, but you aren't just another employee. There are other things that you need to keep in mind when considering your behavior." "My behavior?" I asked. "What's that supposed

to mean?" Gabriel sighed and took a step toward me. "Look, Cherry," he said, his tone losing some of its angry edge. "I don't know what you're thinking or how you're feeling about this, but for now we need to put all of that aside. What you need to think about is our contract. I don't want you seeing anybody else. It's not about you, it's about the baby. You can't just be running around dating people while pregnant. It would be far too awkward when conversations about the baby and its paternity and raising it would eventually come up. And if you think that going to lunch with a co-worker is something completely casual, with no strings attached, I can tell you that I have seen too many messy relationships and eventual breakups happen because of lunch with a co-worker. You might not think that it's anything now, but by the time you realized that you were getting serious or that he

might have feelings for you, you could already be pregnant and that would complicate things too much. Besides, I need to know that you are healthy and doing what's best for the baby at all times. The contract made it clear that you weren't to engage in any potentially dangerous activities. No drinking. No smoking. No eating foods that could be dangerous. And nothing else that could impact your body or the baby's growth." As much as I hated to admit it, I completely understood what he was saying. He was right. Me trying to force myself into proving that I could have a normal relationship wasn't appropriate when I was possibly only weeks away from carrying his child. Until our baby was safely born, I wouldn’t have full control of my body. The baby did. And I needed to do what was right for it, even before it existed. "I understand," I said. "I won't see him again."

"Thank you," Gabriel said. "I only noticed that you were gone because I went to your desk to see if you’d like to have lunch with me. I wanted to go over a few more details before I leave on this trip. "I have all of the briefs and instructions in the files on my desk," I said. "I'll be able to handle it while you're gone. Don’t worry." "Not work details," he said. "I want to talk about how we're going to move forward after last night." I looked at him for a minute. We had already gone over this, but I assumed he was nervous because he was going away for three weeks. He wanted to make sure everything was set and arranged so he wouldn’t have to worry about it while he was gone. "Everything is still going exactly according to the plan," I reassured him. "When you get back we will go to the doctor and make sure that my body is

ready and talk about when we'll be able to start the IVF process." Gabriel didn't respond for several long, awkward seconds. His eyes searched my face and there seemed to be unspoken words in his gaze. Finally, he nodded. "Alright," he said. "Then, I guess everything is taken care of." I nodded. "Don't worry about it. Have a good trip and before you know it, things will be moving right along." I walked out of the office with my arms hugging my chest, trying to ease the need to throw myself into his arms. I hated the thought of him being away for so long. I hadn't seen him in years before starting to work at the office, but everything was different now. I dreaded seeing his empty office

and not hearing his voice. I was suddenly glad for the bear that was now sitting in my bedroom. It was meant for the baby, but I knew that it would be in my arms that night. I didn't regret the night before. He was always supposed to be my first. It was the way that I had always wanted it. But there was a part of me that was still worried that things had changed too much between us, too fast.

Chapter Eight

Gabriel

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to be feel about the situation. I had woken up that morning deliriously happy, but within a few minutes reality had settled in, and along with it came the guilt. I felt like I had betrayed Brent. Betrayed his memory. Even though I made that promise so many years before and he was no longer here, the weight of it still loomed over me. It was exactly what I had felt when Cherry told me her mother was ill and that they had been struggling to keep up with expenses. My sense of loyalty was immediately triggered, and I felt like it was my responsibility to help them. Now I felt that, in trying to help her, I put myself into a position where I could take

advantage of Cherry. But it didn't feel wrong. It felt like things had happened exactly like they were supposed to. Cherry didn't seem fazed by it. The truth was that I had already gotten in touch with my lawyers and planted the idea that there might need to be some major changes made to the contract. The guilt I was feeling battled against the incredible attraction I felt for Cherry and the truly mindblowing sex we had shared last night. I wanted to move forward, but I was ready to talk about going about it the old-fashioned way. Cherry seemed like she was still set on IVF. I felt tangled up in my own emotions. I supposed I should have been relieved that this was the way she reacted to what happened between us. There had been the possibility I’d show up for work the morning after and she would be hopelessly dreamyeyed, expecting me to rip up the contract and run

away and elope together. She could have thought that we had voided the agreement or that I had insulted her in some way. I should have been happy that she had gone the other direction and didn't seem at all concerned, and in fact, barely even aware, of what had happened between us. She had even gone to lunch with that annoying mouse of a man. That proved to be the limit for me. Cherry seemed insistent about doing IVF and I knew that I had to respect her and her wishes, but I couldn’t stand by and watch her date other people when she should concentrate on getting pregnant and delivering a healthy baby. Besides, she didn't need to. I was going to make sure she was well taken care of, and I hoped she would soon be far too busy to be thinking about anyone or anything else. I left for the airport an hour before I needed to, somehow convinced I would be able to will the

plane into arriving early. I was ready to get these three weeks of networking and negotiating over with so that I could get back here and move forward.

Cherry

"How much have you kept in contact with Gabriel Reed?" My mother looked over at me from her recliner. I had helped her out of bed earlier and tucked her into the recliner with one of my quilts on her lap. Even though warm weather had finally settled in, she always seemed cold and I worried that with every chill she got, her health would worsen. Sometimes when I was sitting in the room with her, I felt like I could feel the minutes passing us by, like some giant timer was counting down. I didn't want

to think that way. But when I looked at her and saw how extensively the illness had ravaged her, how much it had changed her, my heart ached. I never let her see how worried I was about her. I never wanted her to know how scared I was, or that I constantly questioned if everything was going to turn out all right. I needed to be strong for her. I sometimes felt like that was what she needed more than anything. She needed someone to be there and believe she was going to get through this. That she could beat whatever this was. My father had passed. My brother was gone. I was the only one she had left, which meant that I needed to be strong enough for the two of us. I needed to believe in her just as much as Brent and my dad would have. I was desperate to feel like we weren’t fighting a losing battle. "Gabriel?" She asked. "It's been a good while since I've talked to him. There was a bit of time

when we stayed in close contact, but he got busy with life and that big company and everything, and I guess time just got away from us. Why? What has you thinking about him?" "Actually," I said, putting down the quilt square I was working on and walking over to the table so that I could give her a glass of water. "I started working for him recently." "For Gabriel?" "Yes. You know I lost my courier job. Well, I couldn't just sit around forever and pretend that everything was going to work itself out for me. I had to go out and find it for myself. So, I interviewed for a position at his company and I got it." "You sound just like your father," she said. I could still hear the misty emotion in her voice. No matter how many years passed, it was

always obvious she still missed and longed for my father. They were each other's first and only love. When I was a child it was hard to imagine the two of them not being together. I didn't think that one would be able to exist without the other. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think Mom was going to make it when he passed. There were days when I felt like she was slipping away from me and I had started to mentally steel myself for life without both of my parents, but she pulled through. She always said that she had to, because of Brent and me. She couldn't bear to leave the two of us behind to fend for ourselves. Not yet. We were all that she lived for. Gradually she started to come out of the darkness and I could see little glimmers of her old self again. She was mostly better now, at least in that respect. But thoughts of my dad were never far from her mind or her heart. I knew she was right. I did sound just like him. He had taught me a lot about being an adult in the

brief time he was here, and one of those things was that you couldn’t just wait around. You couldn’t have a thought in your head and sit back, expecting it to happen for you just because you wanted it to. You had to go out and find a way to make your dreams happen because the longer you sat around and did nothing, the harder it was when you eventually realized life had passed you by and you never took part in it. I tried not to obsess over my mom’s condition. I tried not to think that she might be in pain or experiencing anything negative. I reminded myself that soon she would have everything that she could possibly ever need. Knowing that she could live the highest quality of life while receiving the best possible medical care was worth any trouble I had to go through. It really was. "I didn't actually know it was Gabriel's office when I applied for the position," I said.

"Well, that's a surprise." "What do you mean?" "I saw the way that you always looked at that boy, Cherry. Don't think that you were able to hide it from me. But he was too old for you then. I was glad he never chased after you. Then after your brother died, he just totally fell apart." It never ceased to amaze me how easily my mother was able to talk about Brent. I still felt my voice catch in my throat and my heart freeze whenever I thought about or said his name or talking about his death. But she was able to do it so smoothly, so effortlessly. "How do you talk about him like that?" I asked. I’ve never been able to bring myself to ask that question, but I suddenly felt like I needed to. It was a compulsive question, but now that it was out there, there was nothing I could do about it. "How do you talk about Brent so easily?"

"What do you mean?" "It's still hard for me. It still hurts. I don’t ever want to say his name or use the past tense when I talk about him. Or acknowledge that he isn't here anymore. But it doesn’t seem like it bothers you as much. It just comes so easily to you. You're able to just talk about him like it’s not a big deal." "It bothers me, Cherry. Don't you think for a second that my heart doesn't break every single time I think about your brother. He was my boy. My baby. I brought him into this world and I was sitting right there beside him, holding his hand when he left it. I can’t change that he isn’t here anymore, but I can sure as hell stop him from being forgotten. Everything is different now. Everything will always be different. I can't hold him. I can't give him a kiss or make him his favorite dinner. I can't give him a present for his birthday or even just sit with him. But I can say his name. I can remind

myself, and everyone around me, and the entire universe, that Brent was real. My son lived. He mattered. He might not be here with us anymore, but he didn’t just disappear from existence the day he died. I'm going to carry him with me every day until I'm with him again. Just like your daddy." I walked over to my mother and wrapped my arms around her. She felt frail in my arms, but I knew that she was far from fragile. I sat with her the rest of the afternoon and we talked about Gabriel. I didn't tell her about the contract or my feelings for him. But I listened. I listened to her tell me about struggles I didn't even know he had faced after Brent died. I knew it had been hard on him. They were extremely close, and the suddenness of my brother's death was a devastating blow. But I didn't realize how far it had spiraled out of control. I had been so deep in my own despair that I hadn't even noticed just how out

of touch Gabriel had become. After he left, I was so hurt and embarrassed that I avoided any reminder or mention of him. I didn't want to know what he was doing or where life had taken him. Now my mother filled me in on all his risky choices, the wild lifestyle he led, and seeming total lack of regard for life in general. It hurt me to hear about it and to think of everything that he had gone through. He had been trying to self-destruct just like I had. He was so worried about me when he found out about what I had gone through in recent years. He said he should have been there for me, that he should have helped me, as if he thought he was responsible for saving me. Yet, I had never thought about saving him. Mom had started to get drowsy, so I helped her back into the bedroom and tucked her into bed. I touched the quilt folded at the foot of the bed as I

walked by. My grandmother had made it during her engagement to my grandfather. It had been on their bed until the day my mother married my father. It was my grandmother who taught me how to quilt when I was still a little girl. It seemed like such an old-fashioned skill, but as an adult, I was glad that I had it. I didn't use all the same techniques as my grandmother did and my style was brighter and more vibrant, than the soft classics she had created, but I still felt connected to her every time I worked on piecing a square or stitching a final layout. I knew I was creating something beneficial and that I would someday be able to pass it down to my children. That thought lingered as I left her house and made my way back home. I contemplated the reality of having a baby and what it would be like. I still wasn’t sure how much my life would change after the baby came. It was something I hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about, even in the week

and a half since Gabriel had left on business. He had checked in a few times, but the conversations were brief and related to official business only. We hadn't thought about the reality of what our relationship would be like when I was pregnant, much less when the baby came. The contract was very dry and straightforward about the specifics of parenting itself. It delineated the specific choices and responsibilities that each of us had and outlined protocols for how to handle any confusion or disagreement. It even put into place preparations for where the baby would go to school and how its finances would be handled. Before now I didn't even realize that babies had finances. What we hadn't talked about, though, was actual life. It didn't tell me what I was supposed to feel or think. It also didn’t detail what life was going to be like when the baby was an actual little human rather than an abstract concept written out on paper. If I had learned anything in my life, it was

that nothing could ever really be expected. There was never a guarantee, no absolute promise that things were going to work out exactly the way you thought they were. Much less the way you wanted them to. I liked to think of the universe as a living, breathing entity, blissfully ignorant of our existence. This is why it dictated things how it wanted to, changing courses on a whim. Though we could do our best to be prepared, things changed, and you never actually knew what was going to happen or how you would respond, until you were there right there living it. Then you find your heart telling you what your mind could never have predicted. I glanced toward Jess's building as I entered the complex, checking to see if her car was parked in its usual spot. The buildings didn't have assigned parking spots for the tenants, but she somehow managed to always get the same prime spot right at the entrance to her building’s breezeway. I often wondered if she made herself a stencil and painted

"Reserved" across the spot in sidewalk chalk to keep it locked down when she wasn't there. The nose of her distinctive purple compact was visibly sitting just where I expected it to be. Her car – much like Jess – was just a little bit off normal. It was one of the things I loved about her. I reached for my phone, tempted to call her and see if I could stop by, but I hesitated. I hadn't talked about any of this with her yet. I knew I would need to soon. She was my confidante, the rock that kept me going when I struggled, even if she might not seem very strong to others. She was also my unexpected voice of reason and logic. Talking through things with her always helped me to see the situation in another perspective and come to the right conclusion. That was part of why I tucked my phone away and headed to my apartment. I didn't know what she was going to say about all this, and I felt like this time, I needed to do it on my own. Before she could tell me why I shouldn't.

The next week and a half seemed to drag by, but by the morning of my doctor's appointment, I wished I had some of that time back. I was starting to feel nervous and knowing that I was going to see Gabriel after so long didn't help. We never talked about our night together and I was wondering if the window for that conversation had passed us by and things would just be awkward between us now. I couldn't decide if that was the way that I wanted it to be, or if I actually wanted to talk about it. But if he did want to talk – what would I even say? I gripped the bar on the elevator wall and closed my eyes, taking a breath to settle the nervous churning in my stomach. "Are you okay?" Gabriel asked. I nodded.

"I'm fine. Just anxious. I don't like needles. Or doctors. Or doctor's offices, really." "You probably should have mentioned that at the beginning of all this, Cherry." "Would it have changed anything?" "No, but at least I could have prepared something to try and make you feel better." "Well, you know now. Make me feel better." Gabriel thought for a second before he started jumping up and down, shaking the elevator car. "Earthquake!" I gripped my stomach and held up my hand. "Stop!" The elevator stilled, and I felt relieved. "What the hell was that, Gabriel?" "An earthquake," he said. "Why would you do that?"

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. "It made you not think about the doctor for a minute, right?" "That was just so comforting. Thanks." We walked out of the elevator and toward the waiting room. "What's the plan if you ever need to make me feel better about an actual earthquake?" "Throw you in the shower and call it a hurricane?" Our eyes met, and my heart skipped a beat thinking about being in the shower with him. It certainly was as powerful as a hurricane. "Cherry Spencer?" I looked toward the door that led into the back of the office and saw a nurse waiting for me. I looked at Gabriel. "I didn't even check in."

"I called ahead," he said. "Does everyone, not only your staff, do exactly what you tell them to?" He leaned down over me and whispered in my ear. "You’re the only who dares to disobey me, Cherry Spencer.” I didn't know why, but that sent a tremble through me. The nurse ushered us into an examination room and gave me a gown to put on, instructing me to take everything else off. I thanked her, and she left the room to give me privacy. I waited for Gabriel to leave, but he didn't. He dropped down into one of the chairs at the side of the room and seemed to settle in for the experience. Even though Gabriel and I had seen each other very naked recently, I didn’t appreciate the thought of him watching me

take off my clothes and change into a sterile hospital gown in this unflattering fluorescent lighting. I glared at him and pulled the privacy screen out to separate us, making the awkward shift between my clothes and the less-than-elegant lavender and powder blue gown as quickly as humanly possible. Once my gown was on, I opened the screen, and got up on the table. The doctor came in and glanced over at Gabriel. I knew he had carefully chosen the medical team that would take care of me during the pregnancy. I wondered how much they all knew about the situation. Considering the extent of the arrangements he had already made, I assumed they were well-informed. She gave me a brief overview of what she would be examining today and had me lay back. Gabriel came to the side of the table as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and started asking questions. She chatted with him as she jotted down the results of each vitals tests

and I found myself increasingly uncomfortable with his presence in the room. I didn’t know he was going to be so involved. I knew that it was his baby and that he had the right to know what was happening at each stage of the process, but I felt removed from it all. Having him in the room was at once too personal and not personal enough. Gabriel had touched and awakened my body like no other man had, and yet in that moment, I felt like no more than an incubator to him. I felt like a piece of machinery that was being serviced before heading to work. It was a reality of the arrangement that I hadn't considered before, and I knew I would have to find some way to work through it. Finally, she had made her way through the basic tests. I even survived the nurse drawing what felt like an ungodly amount of blood. The doctor lowered the back of the table and asked me to put my legs up in the stirrups and I shot another glare in Gabriel's

direction. He stared back at me blankly as if he couldn't possibly understand that I wanted him to leave the room. The doctor finally seemed to catch on to my discomfort and looked his way. "Mr. Reed, why don't you go ahead and take a break and leave us girls for a little chat?" I would probably have put it somewhat differently, but Gabriel complied, and I felt myself relax. "Thank you," I said. "Not a problem," she said. "Now let's see what we can find out." I stared up at the ceiling during the examination, trying to not think about how awkward it was. It was taking much longer than I had anticipated and worry began to creep into my mind. It never occurred to me that the examination might uncover

anything problematic. I hadn't even thought about the fact that this might not work out before we even got started. "Is everything okay?" I finally asked. "When was your last period?" "Um. About three weeks ago? Two maybe." "You don't seem too confident about that, Miss Spencer." "I've never been that great at keeping track," I admitted. I never had to before three weeks ago. "I know my last one was pretty light though." "Lighter than usual?" "Yeah. It didn't last as long either." "I might have an explanation for that," she said. "Let me go grab something and I will be right back."

I was even more worried than before and starting to regret having Gabriel kicked out of the room. Even though I didn't necessarily want him to be witness to this, I also didn't want to be alone if I was going to get terrible news. A few minutes later, the doctor came back into the room with a small machine on a cart. She picked up a wand from the cart and I realized she had gone to find an ultrasound machine. "What's going on?" I asked. "Please relax," she said. "I just want to check on something." A few moments later she made a sound like she was affirming something to herself before turning the screen toward me. "That bleeding wasn't your period," she said. "That was implantation." "Implantation?" I asked. She pointed at the screen. I didn't see much but a dark circle and a little bright speck.

"You see that?" she asked. "I think so." "That's your baby. Congratulations. You're pregnant." I couldn't possibly have heard her right. I came in here expecting to be examined to make sure I was healthy enough to undergo the IVF process, not to find out I was already pregnant. My mind was spinning so quickly that I barely even noticed when the doctor stepped out of the room. She mentioned that the baby was measuring at five weeks, which meant that I conceived three weeks before. I thought back to the night in the rain and realized that the condom we used must have failed. He came into the room and walked up to the side of the bed. I didn't even care that my legs were still up on the stirrups. "Is everything okay?" he asked. "Dr. Larkin gave me a weird smile when she walked by but

didn't say anything. Did the examination go alright?" He sounded like he was starting to feel the same nervousness that I had, but I was still too shocked to say anything. I held out the photo printout the doctor had taken from the ultrasound machine and Gabriel took it. "What's this?" he asked. "What am I looking at?" "Our baby," I finally murmured. "Your baby."

Everything that happened after the appointment was a whirlwind. And two weeks later, as I stood in the middle of the living room in my apartment, watching an incredibly efficient moving crew whisk my belongings into the truck waiting outside, I still couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was pregnant.

"I can't believe you're leaving," Jess said as she came into the room from the kitchen, clutching an oven mitt to her chest. She had lit that same mitt on fire making brownies just a few months earlier. "What am I going to do with you so far away?" "It's not that far," I reassured her. "Mom needs me to be with her, and besides, it's a lot more space. You can come over and we can have sleepovers." "You know me, Cherry. I'm an adult," she said with a sniff. "I don't do sleepovers." "So, you'll bring the popcorn?" "Regular and kettle." She walked out of the apartment and I smiled wistfully. It was sad leaving my apartment, but I knew the house that was waiting for Mom and me was going to be vast improvement. Gabriel had purchased and furnished a new home for us just as he promised. In fact, we would be settled in by the

end of the day. Besides, I had more to think about than the nostalgia of leaving my home for the last few years. I still hadn't told Jess or my mother about the pregnancy and I was wondering when I would find the right moment. Gabriel and I had gone back to the doctor the day before and had another ultrasound done. I was astonished at how much the image had changed in such a short amount of time. In only two weeks, it had gone from a tiny bright speck, that I could barely differentiate from the rest of the blurred image, to something that resembled a happy little Tic-Tac. Gabriel held my hand tightly as we stared at the screen, taking it in, both of us completely amazed by the miracle that had happened. This morning he presented me with a modified contract, bringing me back down to Earth. I knew I needed to tell them. They were two of the most important people in my life and would be the ones I would turn to during this whole experience, but I still

hesitated. For now, Tic-Tac, Gabriel, and I were the only ones who knew, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. When I told the two of them, everything would be real. Not just the baby. Not just the pregnancy. But the transaction. I would have to justify it to them. I had no doubt what I was doing was the right thing. For both Gabriel and myself. Everything was going to work out. But I wasn't quite ready to hear how it was going to affect my loved ones around me.

Another month passed, and I was almost accustomed to the new house. I had managed to convince Mom that I had arranged with the Reed family to live in a property they managed. It was a lie. A complete and utter lie. Even though she was never particularly close to Gabriel's family, she knew them well enough and trusted them as much as anyone else. She was immensely grateful to

them, particularly when she learned she still owned the house where I had grown up. It had been difficult for her to live there in those aging surroundings with all the memories, but it wasn't something she was ready to let go of yet. The house itself was exquisite. It was more like two houses attached by a screened breezeway than one house. It featured everything I could have ever possibly imagined I would want in a home and more. I was overwhelmed with happiness when I saw I had my own laundry room. Not just a washer and dryer shoved into a closet, but an actual room devoted entirely to a sparkling new smart washer and matching dryer, a long counter for folding, and a bank of cabinets I would never be able to fill up for the rest of my life, no matter how hard I tried. The clawfoot tub Gabriel had installed in my master bedroom actually brought me to tears. I told myself it was my first rush of pregnancy hormones,

but I knew that it was actually because I had told him about the tub in my apartment only once and was sure he had forgotten. But not only had he remembered and put value in what I said, he made sure I had one in my new home. It meant more to me than I could have ever anticipated, and I was beyond thankful for it. I was even more grateful for the oversized tub during the cool baths that were the only way to battle the fierce nausea that took over right after midnight and faded by noon. This baby apparently took the idea of morning sickness very seriously. By the third month, I felt better and knew it was safe to start telling people I was expecting. I knew that Gabriel planned to tell his father as soon as we cleared the first trimester, so if I didn't want an official public announcement to be how my mother and Jess found out, I needed to go ahead and take the plunge. I went to work the morning I was officially twelve weeks along, feeling optimistic and

happy. I didn't realize I had been so worried or anxious during the beginning of my pregnancy but waking up and realizing Tic-Tac and I had gotten through the first three months safely brought a sense of relief and excitement. The milestone made the pregnancy and the baby that much more real. I knew that it would still be several weeks until I was able to feel the baby moving but knowing I had gotten to this point and carried it this long felt like a tiny victory in itself. I stopped by the coffee shop that had become my obsession in the last several weeks, buying my usual cinnamon roll and decaf peppermint tea. The thought of that flavor combination would have made my stomach turn if I wasn't pregnant, but now it was something I thought about all day. Sometimes I would even get out of bed super early in the morning just so that I had time to get it. That morning I grabbed an extra cinnamon bun and a cup of the plain black coffee that Gabriel loved. I

didn't know how I was going to justify this as part of the healthy lifestyle that he wanted me to maintain while I was pregnant, but I felt like we needed a celebration. The baby had been our secret for so long. It was something that was just ours and that only we knew about. Sometimes we would exchange glances during the day and I knew he was thinking about the precious little treasure growing within me. Our relationship was getting stronger and I felt myself beginning to rely on him more as we got closer. He would often come over and bring food and we'd spend the evening watching bad TV and talking about what we think the baby would be like. We went back and forth between thinking it was a boy and a girl. There were days when I was absolutely positive I was carrying our son and started envisioning tiny suits and the same little smile as his father. Other days my body autopiloted into the baby girls' section of the clothing store and

I would lose the afternoon cooing over little pink bows and sweet ruffled dresses. We had kept each other at a distance after we found out about I was pregnant. The closest that we got to each other was sitting on the couch and occasionally falling asleep against each other. I still wanted him. My body trembled when he was near me and even now, I craved the taste of his kiss. But it felt like we were where we needed to be, and I didn't want to do anything that might change it. That morning I walked into the office and grinned at the security guard like I did every morning. Her eyes went to the coffee shop bag in my hand and then to my midsection before waving at me. "Good morning," she said with a knowing smile. It was the first time that someone seemed to notice a change to my body. I walked directly from the elevator to the bathroom. Putting the bag and

cups on the vanity behind me, I stood in front of the huge mirror and turned to the side, pulling the blazer I wore back so that I could look at my profile. The black shirt I wore clung to my body and I noticed a slight swell. It wasn't much, just enough to make me look like I had gained a few pounds packing in the cinnamon buns, but I knew it was something else. I ran my hand down it, spending a few more seconds admiring the tiny bump before gathering the cups and bag and hurrying toward Gabriel's office. I knocked on the door, but he didn't answer. I held a cup in each hand, so I had to use my pinky to put in the code to open the door. When I did, however, I found the office empty. I walked out and headed toward the small lounge where Gabriel would sometimes go in the morning to grab a piece of fruit or second or third cup of coffee. A cluster of ladies who seemed to only exist in the lounge, were gathered around the coffee machine, sipping

at their cups like they contained their lifeblood. I heard them giggle conspiratorially as I walked in. "Looking for Mr. Reed?" one of them asked. "Um, yeah, actually." "I wouldn't expect him to be in any time soon," another added. "Why?" "The museum gala was last night," the first said. "That's always a long night for him." "What do you mean?" I asked. I hadn't even heard Gabriel talking about the gala. "What is his record?" one of the women asked the others. "Three in one night?" "Three women?" I asked. I was trying not to sound like it bothered me. I

didn't want them to know it meant anything to me, but I was starting to feel like I couldn't breathe. The ladies giggled again and sipped their coffee. "Don't worry," one of them said. "You'll get used to working for a playboy. At least none of them have wandered in here in the last few months." I managed a shaky smile and started back out of the lounge. "She really needs to get herself together," I heard one of the women mutter as I left. "Edna always knew what he was up to." What he was up to. Those words reverberated through my mind as I tossed the cinnamon rolls onto Gabriel's desk and left the coffee to get cold. Then I scribbled a note that I was taking a personal day, stuck it on my desk and rushed out of the office. And as I splashed cold water on my face and willed myself not to cry,

I chastised myself for the way I was feeling. Those words cut into me deeply and unexpectedly, but Gabriel had never made any promises to me. We never ever discussed his sex life. This was just a contract. Nothing else. And it controlled my body, not his. He could do anything he wanted. I was still struggling with the thought of Gabriel going to the gala without telling me and possibly bringing one or more women home with him when Jess came over that evening. Just as she had promised, she was carrying two large boxes of popcorn and had gotten a jumpstart on the sleepover by wearing her pajamas. "What's wrong?" she asked when she saw my glum expression. "Gabriel might have gone to the museum gala last night with another woman." "Another woman?"

"Or three." "A museum gala on a Thursday? Don't galas usually happen on the weekend?" "That is not what I meant for you to focus on in that story," I pointed out. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're upset that he didn't invite you?" I sighed and reached for a handful of popcorn as she poured it from the bag and into a bowl. "It's not just that," I said. The freshly popped corn was delicious and I grabbed the entire bowl. "You might want to slow down a bit," she said, her eyes tracing down to where my tight tank top accentuated the little bump that had given me such happiness earlier in the morning. "I didn't want to say anything but...bikini season is coming."

"So is my second trimester." She stared at me blankly. "What?" I sighed again, taking the bowl with me as I made my way on a walk into the living room that was considerably larger than my entire apartment had been. "I'm pregnant," I said. I was relieved the moment the words came out of my mouth, but I also felt a rush of emotion. "You're pregnant?" she asked. "How could you not tell me? Is Gabriel the father?" "Yes," I said. "But it's not what you think. Well, actually, it's exactly what you think. But it's not. Sit down. I have a story to tell you." Jess was still holding the same piece of popcorn when I finished. I couldn't tell by her expression

what she was feeling. "I can't believe you didn't tell me," she finally said. Her voice was even and calm, not the squeal I had expected. I realized in that moment how much I had hurt her. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know I shouldn't have waited this long." "You lied to me, Cherry. You've never lied to me before." "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I didn't know what you would think or say. I didn't want to change the way you look at me." "You're my best friend. I love you. Nothing would ever change the way that I look at you. But you should have trusted me. You can't go through this alone." She gathered me in her arms and I hugged her tightly, so thankful for her existence in

that moment. After a while, she eased me back and looked directly into my face. "And you're right. Don't get wrapped up in him, Cherry. A man like that isn't going to cause you anything but pain." "Maybe," I said. "No, not maybe. If he's still seeing other women and hasn't changed how he feels about you when you are carrying his child, it's a contract. That is it. It’s business. It doesn't mean you can't be friends and that you can’t raise an amazing child together. But you can't think about anything else. Don't give him more than he's willing to give you."

Chapter Nine

Gabriel

My father looked suspicious when he came into his office and I was sitting there waiting for him. It wasn't wholly unexpected. Monroe Reed wasn't known for being particularly flexible or immediately offering his trust to anyone. He was the poster child for the pendulum swinging in the opposite direction from one generation to the next. While my great-grandfather had been a hard worker, consumed by his career much like my father, my grandfather was adventurous and playful, and seen as outlandish in many ways. My father grew up seeing this, but even as a child, Monroe was known to be serious. Witnessing his father's antics had convinced him he didn't want to

be anything like him. "Hello, Gabriel," he said as he came into the office and immediately crossed to the bar. A rousing endorsement. "Dad. Good to see you." "Can I say the same about you? I hope you haven't come to talk about taking over the company again." "Actually, I have," I said. "Gabriel," he said with a long-suffering sigh. "I thought I made myself very clear about this situation. Until you are able to prove to me that you take your responsibilities seriously and have settled down, I can't, at least not in good conscience, give you control of the company. I'm not going to have this discussion again, and I'm not going to change my mind."

"I'm not here to try to change your mind," I said. "Oh, really?" he said. "Then can I assume you are here to admit that you aren't the right person for the position and throw in the towel?" "No," I said. I was trying not to let his attitude bother me and take away the excitement of the announcement that I was actually there to make. "I'm here to tell you that you can start planning your retirement party. But if possible, I would avoid late February and the beginning of March, because that's when the baby is due." It seemed to take a moment for what I had said to really sink in. Then the glass came away from his mouth and he looked at me, his expression changing. "The baby?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "I'm going to be a father." Suddenly, I got a glimpse of the father I

remembered from the summers of my childhood. Before the success had taken his seriousness to the extreme it reached later in life. I was reminded of the carefree days my family had spent together at our lake house. That place had always seemed magical to me. When we were there, it was like nothing else existed. Everything was always good there and nothing ever went wrong. My father was always the first one to jump into the water when we arrived. He would let out a laugh that seemed to come from the deepest part of him as he threw himself off the pier into the lake. I got to hear that laugh again now as he put down his glass and crossed the office to me. I stood up and he gathered me into a tight hug. "Congratulations! This is unbelievable. I'm so happy for you, son. How far along?" "Three months," I said. "We wanted to wait to tell anyone until this point."

"That's understandable. You know, back when I was born, sometimes people would just wait until the baby was born. The mother would start wearing baggier dresses and then stop having company, and then they announced the birth. I think it was harder on the lady that way. No support." His eyes widened. "Speaking of the lady...who is she? Do I know her?" I carefully considered my answer to that question. Part of me felt like it was too personal to talk about Cherry, especially given the circumstances. I could just create a relationship and then make up excuses as to why he never got to meet her. But that felt wrong. I couldn't disrespect her like that. My loyalty to her had only increased since finding out she was carrying my child and I didn't want to do anything that could hurt her, regardless of the actual nature of our relationship. "Yes, actually," I said. "It's Cherry. Cherry

Spencer. Brent's sister." I saw a flash of emotion in my father’s eyes and I knew he was going through many of the same feelings I had. By the time Brent died, my father and I had become distant and strained, but I knew it was hard for him to see how much pain I went through after he passed. But now there was something to be happy about. "That's amazing," he said. "It's like it was meant to be all along." He walked around the desk and settled into his chair. "So, tell me. When's the wedding?" I was thankfully sitting down again because I felt my knees buckle out from under me. I leaned back in the chair and cleared my throat. "What?" I asked. "When's the wedding?" he asked, pulling his planner toward him. Though I had an assistant who

kept track of everything for me, my father was insistent about keeping his calendar organized this way as well. It was the way he had always done it, and he wasn't about to stop. "I need to make sure I can get everything arranged in time. Unless, of course, her family wants to handle it." "The wedding?" I asked, still back at that. "Yes," he said, glancing at his planner again. "I assume we're going to be hosting it. I heard that her father died some time ago and it's just her mother now. I wouldn't want to put any pressure on her." "I don't understand," I said. My father looked at me quizzically. "I mean...you are getting married, aren't you? Gabriel, when I said I wanted to see that you had grown and matured and insisted you have a child, I meant a family. I expected you to get married and have a child. It's alright to get it a little backwards,

but that is what you're intending, right?" I suddenly felt panicked. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about this. He was staring at me with his pen poised over his calendar, and I did what any man would do. I backpedaled like hell. "Of course, we're getting married," I said. "I'm just not sure about the details yet." My father let out a relieved breath. "That's fine," he said. "These things can take some time. And with all the excitement you've already had, I'm sure it's been a bit harder to pull it together. But you'll want to hurry it along at least a little. Society will look away a little bit when a baby's birth shaves a few months from your first nine months of marriage, but we don't want your wedding pictures admired for how round the bride is."

I forced a chuckle and nodded. "I'm sure that's not what she would want." "Then leave the details to me. I'll make some calls. We'll have the best professionals put together something for next month." "Great," I said, standing up. "Well, I wanted to stop by and give you the news. I should probably go check on Cherry." "Give her my best," he said. "And let her know that I look forward to meeting her again." "I will." "Have a great day, Gabriel. And congratulations, again." "Thanks. You, too." The boost I had seen in my father had been exciting for a brief moment, but now I walked out of his office feeling like there was a heavy weight

in the pit of my stomach. I had come in here thinking I had everything figured out. I already convinced her to have my baby. Now I had to convince her to marry me, too. Somehow, I felt like that was going to be a harder task.

"You need me to what?" "It won't be a real marriage," I said. "Just one to convince my father we are a happy family and that everything will be good after the baby's born." "Well that makes me feel so much better about it," Cherry said. "Everything between us would stay the same as it is now. We will be married for an appropriate length of time, enough to satisfy my father, and then we will have an amicable divorce. A quiet and tasteful divorce looks much better than a bachelor in his late thirties and forties."

I wasn't entirely convinced of this myself, but I had to go with it. It really was my only option, especially now that she was already pregnant. Cherry looked at me as if she was stunned. Finally, she spoke again. “Anthony proposed to me by shaping sugar packets while we were eating breakfast in a nasty truck stop diner. He tried to convince me that he loved but I know now we were only at the farthest restaurant from humanity, so he could hide me from his real fiancée. I never would have thought that in my life I would be proposed to twice, and that the sugar packet ploy would be the better of them.” "It's not a proposal," I said. "Oh, good," she said. "I don't even get a proposal. I get a marriage command. Forget the story books, that's the real fairy tale." "That's not what I meant," I said. "Look, I know

that this is a lot…" "Isn't that exactly what you told me about having the baby?" she asked. "Didn't you tell me the baby was all you needed and that was the only major decision I was going to have to make?" "I didn't know he expected me to get married," I said. "And why does it matter even if he does? Why are you so scared of your father?" "I'm not scared of my father," I said. "Well, you're certainly desperate to please him. So what if he says he thinks you should be married? You're an adult. Don't you think you should be able to make your own damn decisions? Why do you need to fall all over yourself to make a life choice just so he'll approve of you?" "My family worked extremely hard to build that company," I said. "I don't want anyone else

controlling it. If that means that I must convince him I'm a good family man and that I'll be able to leave it as a legacy for my children, then that's what I'm going to do." "I feel like you're letting him push you around. Why don’t you stand up for yourself?" I was starting to feel angry, but I also understood the questions she was asking. I would have asked them of anyone else as well. "I did stand up for myself," I said. "I told him I was more than capable of taking over the company and that I expected to inherit it just as he had always intended. But he said that wanting to be able to control the company and make money wasn't enough, that I had embarrassed him, and the rest of the company and I needed to prove I was the type of person who deserved to be in that role." "Who is he to decide what type of person you are?"

"He's the head of company I want to control," I said. "He's also my father." I drew in a breath and tried to let it cool the flames of anger that had begun in me. "You should have seen him, Cherry. He looked so happy. I haven't seen him look that happy as long as I can remember. He smiled in a way I haven't seen since my mother was alive. This isn't just about the company. I know I said it is but ignore that. Just think about him and what it would mean to him. This is his one chance to have a grandchild."

Cherry

"This wasn't part of the arrangement, Gabriel." "I know. We can make changes to the contract

and I will make sure that the eventual divorce agreement is very favorable towards you." I felt tears burning in my eyes. "This isn't what I imagined when I thought about my happily ever after," I said. "I wanted to be swept off my feet the next time I got engaged, not used as a bargaining chip." "I know, Cherry. And you deserve that. Trust me, I believe that more than anyone. And someday you will have that. I just need you to do this for me now." He sounded almost desperate, the emotion that he was feeling evident in his voice. "And I'm going to be expected to just look the other way when you go out with other women?" He looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I haven't been

seeing anyone." "Don't lie to me, Gabriel. You can go ahead and lie to everyone else, but I'm the one whose life you're manipulating right now, so you need to be honest with me." "Cherry, I am being honest with you. I haven't been out with any other women since you started working at the office." "What about the museum gala?" "What about it?" "You didn't tell me you were going." "I didn't feel like I needed to. It's just a boring benefit I have to go to every year." "And all the women you sleep with while you're there?" "Who told you that? Women in the office?"

"Yes." "Those women don't know when to keep their damn mouths shut. They live off gossip. They are like the world's most miserable weeds. They thrive off gossip, sunlight, air, and coffee. And sometimes I think that air may even be optional." "I'm not sure I like you talking about women like that." "I'm not talking about women like that. I'm talking about those women like that. They love anything that sounds even the slightest bit salacious and they will spread it as fast as they can, embellishing as they go, if it will get them more attention." "If they bother you so much, why do you keep them at the office? You could just fire them and then you wouldn't have to deal with them or their gossip anymore."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your philosophical leanings, they are good at what they do. They can frustrate the living hell out of me when they get together in the lounge, but their job performance is impeccable. If they were to spread any serious gossip about one of their coworkers or caused any problems with morale, I would have to do something about it. If it's just about me, I can ignore it. Trying to come up with stories about how I live amuses them, so until it starts to impact their work, or they go to the extreme with it, I can ignore it." "So, you don't sleep with anonymous women when you go to the gala?" "Now, I didn't say that. If we are being honest, that party is usually a chance for me to pick someone up. But not this year." "Really?" "Really."

I let out a long breath. I thought about my last engagement and how spectacularly that had gone up in flames, then about this baby that I already loved so much. Then I thought about my mother and how much better she was doing. She was really thriving in the new house with all the care that was available to her. Having access to the best medical equipment and treatment was giving her so much more of a chance to fight and having a nurse with her all the time was improving her quality of life to a level I hadn't seen in years. I always wished there was more I could do for her, but I couldn’t be her full-time caregiver and support both of us. Now I saw just how much she benefitted from the continuous care and I knew she still needed it and would in the future. Then I thought about Brent and his promise to always take care of my mother and me. He hadn't been able to do it, but that didn't mean I couldn't. I had committed myself to doing anything I needed to do, and this was just another

step in fulfilling that promise. "I'm in," I said. I didn't want to say yes. That was a word I wanted to reserve just in case I ever had the opportunity to say it again. "Thank you," Gabriel said, gathering me into a hug. The smell of him was as intoxicating as ever and I wished I could stay there in his arms for the rest of the day. "We can just go to City Hall," I said when the hug ended. "City Hall?" "To get married," I said. "We can do that, and it'll be done fast and easily, and we won't have to bother anybody about it. My mom won’t even have to know."

Gabriel shook his head. "No, that won't work. That would never convince my father it was a real marriage. No, we need to have a real wedding. He's already started to contact people in the industry. We need to start planning as soon as possible. We can't wait for too long for obvious reasons." "So… what do we do first?"

Just as fast as Gabriel had moved my mother and I out of our houses and into our new home after finding out that I was pregnant, I suddenly found myself right in the thick of lavish wedding planning. It seemed that every minute during the day brought another decision I needed to make or a call from Monroe Reed telling us about the next over-the-top detail he had put into place for the ceremony or reception. I knew that both men were rushing the planning of the wedding to accommodate my pregnancy and growing baby

bump, but I still felt like we were on a runaway train, barreling dangerously fast down the track. I felt like I was constantly surrounded by wedding dress samples, photos of potential floral arrangements, cake tastings, and everything else wedding. It was exhausting. I told Jess about the engagement the day after agreeing to marry Gabriel but stopped short at telling her it part of another arrangement. I remembered what she had said about me lying to her before, but this time I felt like I really was doing something right for her. I knew there was a very good chance that she would be judgmental and scrutinizing if I gave her the true story, but beyond that, this was very much for her. She loved weddings and jumped at the chance to be involved in them. I didn't know if I would ever get legitimately engaged again, so this was her opportunity to have fun planning. She also got to fulfill the role of maid of honor that had been stolen from her during the whole Anthony debacle. At

least Smyth wasn’t in the picture this time. Jess was beyond thrilled when I carefully pieced together the announcement that not only had Gabriel not slept with three women on his visit to the museum Gala, but we were getting married. Her eyes immediately filled with stars and I quickly lost her to the fervor of planning. She was just as wrapped up in all the details as the professionals we hired to put everything in place for us. Watching her run around and taking care of everything on her to-do list left me feeling dizzy and exhausted, and it was clearer than ever why most people took nine months or longer to plan their wedding. Trying to shove all the planning and organizing it required into just a few weeks seemed impossible. Fortunately, there were occasional times when I found the chance to just sit in the quiet and breathe. Gabriel often joined me on those evenings. It was fun in a weird way. It felt like we were escaping our

responsibilities by hiding ourselves away so that we didn't have to decide which of the ridiculously large, over-the-top floral arrangements was just too ridiculous for us, or whether we wanted sweet pea pink, Halcyon pink, or tiny kitten nose pink napkins. We were getting closer again and my feelings for him were even stronger than before. It was one of those nights when I was just trying to breathe that I saw Gabriel in a way that I never had before. He came over after a particularly heated debate with people far more invested in the wedding than we were, over whether fondant was the appropriate icing for a wedding or if the couple should try something more interesting. After listening to them argue over the flavor of the cake versus the presentation of the cake, and the all-important plan to keep the top layer in our freezer until our first anniversary, both of us were completely exhausted. We curled up on the couch with the intention of

watching a movie, but I barely remember anything beyond the opening credits. I had fallen deeply asleep, but I was startled awake by Gabriel's voice calling out. "No! No! Don’t take him!" I was disoriented and for a moment, could not figure out where I was or what the heck was going on. Then I realized Gabriel and I had fallen asleep while curled up on the couch together, but it seemed like he was being tormented by a nightmare. I grabbed his shoulder and gave him a firm shake to bring him out of the dream. As soon as his eyes snapped open, he lowered himself to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. I scooted over so I could sit directly beside him and tightly wrapped my arms around him. I often thought of waking up beside Gabriel. Thoughts about the possibilities of the future had begun to dance at the edges of my mind when I looked at him lately.

Seeing him in such obvious devastation had taken any possible excitement out of waking up with him curled around me. "What happened?" I asked. "What were you dreaming about? " He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "I don't want to talk about it." "Gabriel, what's going on?" "I should have stopped him," he said. "I should have stopped him and kept him safe." "Who? Who should you have kept safe? Safe from what?" Gabriel finally lifted his head and looked at me with hollow eyes. "Brent," I said. "It's my fault that he's dead."

"What do you mean it's your fault?" "I should have stopped him from leaving. That party was at my house and I knew he must have had a couple of drinks. I should have kept his keys. I shouldn't have let him leave." "I know you took his keys from him," I said. "You hid them in your bedroom. You told him you didn't want him to drive. You begged him not to go. Plenty of people heard you. You did everything you could have in that situation." "Except stay awake." "How were you supposed to know he was going to find the keys while you were sleeping and leave anyway?" "But why did he have to leave? He could have stayed there for the rest of the night and left in the morning? He would have been safe." "It was the summer," I said. "He was

lifeguarding. You know how he was. Brent had to clock in at least an hour before any customers showed up to the waterpark. He didn't have any of his work stuff with him, so he probably figured he should get home so that he could have a good start to the next day. "If I hadn't fallen asleep, I could have stopped him." "Gabriel, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. And neither did Brent. The coroner's report said the alcohol had metabolized out before he even started driving. He wasn't impaired when he was driving. At all. It was the truck driver who drove out in front of him who shouldn't have been on the road. It was a bad decision that Brent made, sure. He should have just stayed with you, gotten some sleep and then left early so he could swing by the house and pick up his things. He also could have showed up just a

little late for work. But the fact that he didn't do any of those things doesn't mean what happened was your fault. " "I tried to save him," he said into his hands. "I pulled him out as fast as I could." "I know you did," I said. My heart felt like it was tearing in two. I pulled him closer to me, really noticing how large his chest was as I tried to hold him. I could hear the agony in his voice and wanted to do anything to make it go away. "As soon as I realized he was gone, I went after him. I got there just in time to see that truck smash into his car. I didn't even turn my car off. I slammed the emergency brake, hopped out, and ran to Brent's car and pulled him out of the wreckage. I got him as far away as I could before the engine exploded. When the paramedics got there, they said that if he was in the car when the gas ignited, he

would have died instantly. It gave me hope. I thought that sounded like they were optimistic about him. I thought maybe everything was going to be okay." He shook his head. "But it wasn't. It was never okay again." "Gabriel, look at me." He resisted so I jostled his shoulders. "Look at me." He finally complied, and I looked directly into his eyes. "You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty. Brent's death was an accident. A horrible accident caused by the stupidity of one drunk, stupid man who got behind the wheel of his truck and drove, not thinking he’d encounter anyone else on the road. You didn't do anything. Brent loved you. He wouldn't want you to waste your life feeling guilty about how his ended. He would want you to live it." Gabriel tucked an arm around me and lowered

us down to lay on the floor together. He rested his hand on my belly and softly stroked it with his thumb, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep. I cradled him for hours without falling back to sleep. I felt like I was on guard. To see Gabriel, the strong and powerful man he is, so hurt, it shook me to my core. At the same time, I felt the emotions and feelings I had coursing through me, grow even stronger.

Chapter Ten

Cherry

We convinced Gabriel's father to stretch the engagement to six weeks rather than a month, which gave us two extra weeks to bring it all together. Time was flying by, however, and I knew that I needed to tell my mother. She had taken the news of my pregnancy well, even though I told her I wasn't ready to reveal the identity of the father just yet. Having Jess there to play the exuberant auntie-to-be seemed to go a long way in making my mother more accepting, even excited, about her grandchild. Telling her I was getting married seemed like something else altogether. It would mean revealing Gabriel was the father of the baby and invite a host of uncomfortable questions about

our relationship. I could only hope the thought of me actually making it down the aisle this time would be enough to temper any negativity she might feel. I coached myself through what I was going to say to her as I made my way down the breezeway between our houses. Jess wasn't with me this time. She had been extremely helpful when I told my mother about my pregnancy, but I felt like I needed to do this on my own. I braced myself for my mother's reaction before I even stepped through the door. Mom was sitting in her chair by the window, recreating her favorite spot from the old house, in a way. She looked at me and I noticed how much more color she seemed to have in her cheeks, and how much more energetic she looked. Her eyes were even sparkling. "Hi, Cherry," she said, sounding almost chipper for the first time in years. "What brings you all the

way over here for a visit?" "I need to talk to you about something," I said. "It's really important." Her expression became concerned. "Did something happen?" she asked. " Is something wrong with the baby?" "No," I said, instinctively cupping a protective hand around my belly. "Nothing's wrong with the baby. The baby looks fantastic, according to the doctor. If I want to, I can find out if it's a boy or girl in just a few weeks." My bump had become distinctly larger in the last few weeks, but it was still not quite at the point where people would know I was pregnant as opposed to assuming I might have just eaten a very large lunch. "Thank goodness," she said. "Well, what is it then?"

"I'm getting married,” I said. "Married?" my mother asked, her eyes widening. I nodded. "I'm actually marrying Gabriel," I told her. "He's the father of the baby. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before, things were a little bit complicated and I didn't want…" I stopped when I saw tears were starting to slip down my mother's cheeks. "I'm so happy for you," she said. "Your heart was so broken, and I know that he is exactly the one to fix it for you. He's been the one all along. I could see it in your eyes when you were younger, even though you deny it. And I could see it when you told me you started working for him. It's easy for you to tell a lie with your mouth, but you give it away with your facial expressions. I was worried

when I found out about the baby. I know you're going to be an absolutely incredible mother, but when you wouldn't tell me who the father was, I thought you had made some sort of terrible mistake." "You did?" "Yes. I was afraid you had gotten overwhelmed or were just tired of looking for that perfect someone and had just hopped into bed with the first man who paid attention to you. I should have known better. I should have known you better. That's not the type of person you are. You're like me in so many ways, Cherry. You believe in true love. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that you’re going to have a chance at the type of life I had with your father. There's nothing like that type of love." I didn’t think my mother would respond like this. She had been excited for me when I had gotten

engaged to Anthony, but in the reserved way I expected she would be when her only daughter announces she's marrying a man she's only known a few months. When she had warned me about Gabriel, she seemed cautious and even upset at the idea of the two of us being together in a romantic way, yet now she was thrilled. Guilt started to creep into my mind and tighten in my chest. The weight of the lies I was telling crushed down on me even more intensely than it had before. I thought about my brother and how he would feel if he knew this was happening. Tears danced in my eyes as I realized just how far we had taken things. I couldn't stand the thought of causing any damage or hurting anyone because of the choices I'd made. When this all began, I only saw what was right ahead of me. I didn't think about the impact it would have on anyone else, including myself. I only focused on how much it would benefit my mother. Now I felt like everything was spiraling toward disaster and

there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tried to not feel that way. There was just a short amount of time left before the wedding and I felt like if I could just push my way through it, maybe I could find some way to minimize the pain that was going to ensue. Two days later I met with Jess at the bridal shop. We had been making so many decisions and putting so many details into place that I hadn't been able to settle on my dress. It was the one thing was completely escaping me. I had seen and tried on countless designs. I had people sketch new options and tell me how they could tailor existing dresses, but I hadn't been able to choose one. Now I was out of time and had to choose. I had gone through what felt like most of the store’s inventory when the clerk zipped, tied, and buttoned me into an elaborate creation that seemed to have taken most of the signature details from

every other dress I had tried on and put them together. The strapless boned bodice was covered in stones and sequins and crushed tightly around my wrist, enough that I worried about it squeezing the baby. The skirt cascaded around me with countless layers of netting and petticoats beneath it, before stretching out behind me in a glittering train. I felt like I was going to suffocate before I even stepped out of the dressing room, but the way the clerk looked at me made me feel like maybe this was one I should consider. I walked out and climbed up on the little platform in front of a bank of curved mirrors and stared into the reflection of Jess behind me. She held a glass of champagne and when she looked at me, her mouth opened, and color sprang to her cheeks. "This one is incredible," she said. "You really look like a princess. Why don't you look happy?" The clerk gave a deep sigh.

"Maybe this isn't the one," the sales associate said. "I always tell a bride the decision about her dress is made the second she sees herself in the mirror. She should look at herself as a bride, not just somebody standing in a wedding dress. She should be able to envision herself standing at the altar with the man she loves, ready to start a new life with him. When she sees herself in the right dress, it should feel as good as when she sees her future husband. That should be what you want to look and feel like when standing in front of your friends and family to celebrate how you brought them all together in this precious way." Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. The dress was suffocating me even more than before and the air around me was hot and thick. Spots danced in front of my eyes and my hands felt cold, my fingertips numb. I reached down and grabbed the dress, pulling the skirt up so that my feet wouldn't tangle in it. The clerk made a comment about heading

back to the dressing room to try on something else, but my eyes focused on the door. I ran. I ran straight to the door and down the sidewalk, ignoring the screams of the boutique staff and Jess behind me. I threw myself into the car Gabriel had arranged to bring me and Jess around and told Harlan to bring me to Gabriel. He stared at me in the rearview mirror as I tried to manage the massive puff of skirt that had enveloped me when I sat down, and I gestured sharply at him. "Drive, Harlan!" Gabriel's expression was one of shock when I stomped into his study. "We need to talk," I said. "I didn't think I was supposed to see you in your dress before the wedding," he said with a chuckle. "There isn't going to be a wedding," I said. "What?"

I shook my head. "There can't be. I can't do this anymore. I can't marry you." "What are you talking about, Cherry? The wedding is in less than three weeks." "I know, and I'm sorry, but I can't do it. Do you know what we're doing? Do you know what we're putting people through?" "A wedding?" "No, Gabriel. I need you to be serious. I need you to really think about this. We aren't just throwing a party. We're not even just bringing a life into the world. The baby is something that both families will treasure no matter, what because it's a new life, a new being. This wedding is completely different." "How?"

"Because it's creating something fake, a mirage, that we're going to take away from them. When this baby is born, our parents will be grandparents. That won't ever change. They will always be the baby's grandparents. Even if we never spoke to each other again, you will always be the baby's father and your father will always be its grandfather, just like I will always be its mother and my mother will always be its grandmother. Nothing can make that any different. If we were to get married, Monroe will be my father-in-law and my mother will be your mother-in-law. They would each have a new child. They would look at us and see their marriages – ones that lasted for decades. Then we would rip that all away from them. Suddenly they wouldn't have a new daughter or son. They would have an ex-child-in-law. They would look at us and see misery and disappointment. Rather than being reminded of all the wonderful things about their own marriages, they would be constantly reminded

of how painful it is to not be with them. I can't do that, Gabriel. I never wanted to hurt anyone, and now I feel like I'm hurting everyone I love." "Cherry," he said, taking hold of both of my shoulders. "Calm down and listen to me. You're right. This baby changes everything and it’s something that can't be undone. That's what makes it so beautiful. This baby will make us parents and that will define us for the rest of our lives. We will have created and raised a person who will go out into the world and impact other people and other things. Our parents want to know that their children are loved and that we will carry on, even after they're gone. That's really what any parent wants. For their children to be happy, to find love, and to live the best life they can." "When our parents think of us getting married, that's what we're fulfilling for them. Do you want them or our child to think we don't care about each

other? Do you want them to look at us and not see love and a happy future, but a mistake? Because that's what it will look like to them. Getting married will give our parents validation that they have shown us how to love, and that they gave us good examples of healthy, happy relationships. It’s going to bring our families together even more than a baby being born. Even when it ends, at least they'll believe that we tried. I would rather have them think that we found love and gave it our all, but weren't able to make it work, than acting like you got knocked up and now we have to deal with it. And the baby. Do you want it to grow up thinking that its parents never loved each other? How would that make you feel?" His hands slid down my arms before intertwining with my fingers. "I don't know," I said. "Cherry, please. I know when this all started it

was all about the company. I wanted to make a point to my father and prove to him that he was wrong about me. It is so much more than that now. There are a lot of things I have done wrong in my life. I’ve made decisions I'm not proud of. I've acted in ways I never should have. I've hurt a lot of people. I don't want anyone to ever think our child is another one of those bad decisions, or that I'm not capable or that I don’t care. Most people probably think I can’t handle family life. I honestly don’t know if I deserve that type of life, that kind of happiness. But if there was ever anyone who made me feel like it was possible, it’s you, Cherry. Our families need this bit of hope." "I need to think," I said. "I can't make this decision right now." "That's fine," he said. "Take your time. I’ll have Harlan bring you home." I knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear, but I

couldn't bring myself to make a decision right then and there. I needed to think about everything he had just said to me and everything I was feeling. Before I walked out of the room, Gabriel pulled me into a hug and touched a brief kiss to my forehead. I didn't say anything else to him and stayed silent until I got back to the house and walked into the pristine, luxurious home that Gabriel had bought and furnished for me. I didn't realize I wasn't alone until I heard Jess's voice call out from the sunroom. "You know, if you decided to embark on a life of crime, I don't think that stealing a wedding gown that cost more than a year of rent was really the best place to start. There's not a whole lot of turnaround for wedding gowns and they're pretty distinctive. You're lucky you are marrying a man who has more wealth than several small countries and who filed a credit card with the bridal shop to pay for anything you wanted. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten away with that."

"I lied to you, Jess. I'm sorry." I turned and walked through the house and into my bedroom where I sat on the end of my bed and contemplated what I should do next. "What do you mean you lied to me?" Jess asked, coming into the room. "You don't like this dress? Well, I guess that wouldn't be a lie. You love this dress?" "I lied to you about the engagement," I said. "I'm so sorry, Jess. You don't deserve what I've done to you. You've always been there for me and loved me just how I am. I should have told you everything from the beginning, and I didn't. I got so tangled up in it all that I didn't know what to do." I could feel the sobs shaking my shoulders and did nothing to try to stop them. "What's going on, Cherry?" She came into the room and sat beside me,

wrapping one arm around me. I turned so that I could face her and started talking. I didn't stop until I had spilled the entire story with every detail. I expected her to be horrified, to tell me how stupid I was being and then provide an outline of all the ways I was going to ruin the lives of the people I cared about the most. I expected her to walk away and leave me completely alone. But she didn't. Instead, Jess remained completely calm. She looked into my eyes and reaffirmed everything Gabriel said to me in the study. Then she asked me the one question I hadn’t been expecting. "Do you care about Gabriel?" "What do you mean?" "You know exactly what I mean. Do you care about him? Still, after all these years, after everything you’ve gone through with and without him. Do you care about him?"

I could feel my heart tightening and knew that it was undeniable. The feelings I had for Gabriel had only gotten stronger, more focused when we found each other again. "Yes," I said. "Do this for him. Do this for you. We're not talking about a Real Housewives of Beverly Hillsstyle divorce, Cherry. You’re not going to scream and throw things at each other. You two aren't going to automatically hate each other when you decide you've been married long enough. Marrying him will give you the life you deserve. You will be treated like a princess and taken care of the rest of your life. It's more than most people could ever want or ask for." She took the veil I didn’t realize was still gripped in my hand, and settled it on my head, tucking the pearl-covered comb into my hair before turning me to look at myself in the mirror. "It's a fairytale, with just a little sprinkle of reality.

Just think of it this way... Even Sleeping Beauty had an arranged marriage so that the prince could inherit the Kingdom when he grew up.” "Do you really believe that?" "I do. And don't worry. Someday your prince will come." "That's Snow White." "Don't be fussy about your princess references. Now you're all dressed up. Let's get your ass to the ball." I laughed and wiped away the tears that were threatening to leak from my eyes. I didn't know what I did to deserve a best friend like Jess, but whatever it was, I was forever grateful for it. I appreciated her now more than I ever had, and I hoped that one day I would be able to give her the same friendship, acceptance, and love that she had shown me.

I took what she and Gabriel said to heart and realized I had come this far. There was really no choice but to move forward. Maybe I couldn't dream of a marriage like my mother and father shared, but I was lucky to have someone I genuinely cared for, and who would take care of me and my mother, even after the divorce, at least as long as my mother lived. Besides, plenty of people are stuck in arranged marriages. I knew I could figure it out.

"I thought we weren't going on a honeymoon," I said. "It's a gift from my father," Gabriel said. "He said every newlywed couple should take a trip together. He says we deserve to spend some time alone together before the baby comes." I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel about

that. Gabriel and I had decided we weren't going to put out a major announcement about our wedding or go on a honeymoon afterwards. The wedding itself was enough. It hadn’t been as bad as I thought it was going to be, but that was only because Gabriel was right there beside me. I had gotten dizzy standing at the end of the very long aisle that had been created in a massive ballroom in the most expensive hotel in our area. The aisle was lined with a custom aisle runner that featured scrollwork and our initials in silver against a dazzling white background. On either side of the aisle was a sea of chairs. Unfamiliar faces stared at me as I made my way down the aisle, escorted by Gabriel's uncle. I didn't know him, but without my father to walk me, the tradition was meaningless. It was another gesture I hoped would mean something to them. I felt like it was getting harder to breathe as I walked down the aisle. It seemed like every step I

took only added distance to the impossibly long path in front of me. This didn't feel like my wedding. It wasn't me. This wasn’t right. This was a sham, carefully constructed to impress the right people and fill a certain set of expectations. I had known this. This was the plan. But now that it was here it was even starker than I had anticipated. I felt like I had been picked up and dropped down into the middle of someone else's wedding. I almost convinced myself that any second now, the doors to the ballroom were going to burst open, and an angry bride was going to run down the aisle and snatch back her bouquet and her special day. When I reached Gabriel, he took my hands and I felt some of my anxiety fade. He smiled at me and my heart fluttered, but it also relaxed me, reminding me this was exactly what it was supposed to be. We were giving them the wedding they wanted, and Gabriel and I were in it together. I tried to tell myself the vows we said really did have

meaning. It was just a different meaning then they might carry for other couples, but it still applied to us. Some of the words felt uncomfortable and hollow coming out of my mouth, so I tried to concentrate on the feeling of his hands holding mine when I said them. In my heart, I wished this could be true. But the kiss. The kiss was real. The passion of that kiss was still resonating through me when we got into the limo after the reception. Harlan whisked us away, but not to the house or even a hotel, but to the airport where a private plane would bring us to the nearest port city a couple of hours away. One of the Reed's luxury yachts would be waiting to bring us to an exclusive resort for two weeks. "Why don't we just agree to relax and enjoy this? I feel like we both deserve some fun." I agreed, and we spent the next day cruising

along calm water as we made our way toward the resort. I watched the sunset from the deck with Gabriel's arms wrapped around me and fell asleep to the gentle rocking of the water. Maybe this was a taste of the life that was in store for me and for my child. I asked Gabriel if he wanted to explore the island with me when we arrived, but he said I should go ahead alone because he needed to take care of a few things. The dismissal brought me down a few pegs, but I spent the afternoon walking along the beach and lush gardens that surrounded the resort. Jess had given me new paints and a set of small canvases as a wedding gift and snuck them into the car when she found out about the surprise honeymoon trip. As I pulled them out of the bag I carried with me and sat at the foot of a waterfall, painting, I was so happy that she did. It felt like so long since I had painted anything, but as soon as the tip of the brush touched the canvas, I lost myself in it. I felt like me when I painted. It was

different than when I quilted, like I wasn't carrying on the legacy of someone else but creating my own. I was eager to show off the painting to Gabriel as I headed back to our bungalow. As I approached, I noticed soft classical music coming from our open door. I followed a path illuminated by candles floating in glass votives with pink Lotus blossoms into the house. The trail of flowers and candles wove back into the expansive bathroom that took up most of the back section of the building and featured floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a private section of lush tropical landscape. When I got there, I found Gabriel standing next to a freestanding, oversized tub that had been surrounded by candles and flower petals and filled to the brim with bubbles. "What is all this?" I asked. "It's for you," Gabriel said. "I wanted to show my new wife just how much I appreciate her."

A smile came to my lips but then faltered slightly when a thought crossed my mind. "I'm not supposed to soak in a hot bath while I'm pregnant," I told him. I felt bad for ruining the surprise he had obviously thought so much about. But he grinned and for a brief moment, it was the grin of his old boyish self, pure and delighted. "That's why there's the water is warm, not hot.” he said. "Warm?" He shook his head. "It’s right at ninety degrees. I called your doctor and she said that as long as the temperature doesn’t exceed ninety-eight degrees, it is perfectly safe. The bubbles are hypoallergenic and made for washing children and people with sensitive skin, not laundry like last time.”

I laughed, remembering the bubbles that covered his entire body the night he came to my apartment and went to battle with that washing machine for me. Anyone else would have been so embarrassed by the memory they would never have wanted to bring it up again. Only Gabriel would want to create something special for me by making me a romantic, beautiful bubble bath, but also link it back to such an important night of our lives. It was also incredibly thoughtful of him to make sure it was safe for me and the baby. "You did all of this for me?" "Of course, I did. That's what I was doing all day. I'm actually glad you stayed out longer than I expected. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be to heat the water to the perfect temperature. I had to run around the resort to find a thermometer.” I laughed. Gabriel stepped forward. He took the canvas from my hand and the bag off my shoulder.

Moving slowly, reverently, he undressed me. I could see his eyes sweeping over my body, taking it in with the same velvety admiration as he had the first night we spent together. There was something different in his gaze now, an even deeper respect, and I had never felt more beautiful than when he took my hand and helped me into the bubbles. The foam smelled like peaches and cream and burst as I moved around. It was everywhere. It was at once hilarious and the most romantic thing I had ever experienced. When I was finished, I rinsed off in the shower. Gabriel joined me and stood under the water and held me in his arms. Our skin against each other reassured me and I felt like we were at the beginning of something amazing. The next morning, I reciprocated the surprise by waking up early and filling the table on the lanai with every pink flower I could find. I had discovered a light pink shell during my walk along

the beach the day before and I set that in the middle of the table. When Gabriel walked out onto the lanai to have coffee, his eyes locked on the table. "What's this?" he asked, repeating the same question I had asked the evening before. "You surprised me last night," I said. "I wanted to do the same for you today. Sit down." He complied even though he looked confused. He touched a few of the flowers and then eyed the shell. I pulled my phone out and scrolled through the images, finally finding what I had been holding on to since before the wedding. I put the phone down next to the shell and waited while he stared at it. "Is that an ultrasound?" he asked. "It is," I said. "The doctor called me a couple of days before the wedding and told me she needed to

reschedule my upcoming ultrasound. I'm guessing Monroe told her about this little trip he had planned and asked if we could do my appointment at another time. She had a slot in an hour, so I took it. I called you, but you were in a meeting, so I just went. I've been waiting until the right time to show this to you." "That's our baby?" he asked, staring in awe at the image. Our happy Tic-Tac actually looked like a baby now and it was incredible to see. But it wasn't just the picture I wanted to surprise Gabriel with. "That's our daughter," I said. He looked up and his eyes widened with shock before filling with an expression of wonder. "Our daughter?" he asked. I nodded.

He got up and swept me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my lips before stepping back and touching my belly. "We're having a girl," he whispered, kissing me again. It was the perfect beginning to two weeks of blissfully romantic time alone, hidden away from the realities of life back home. At least it was supposed to be.

Chapter Eleven

Gabriel

When Cherry and I got home from the party, she walked directly to her bedroom, flinging off her shoes as she went. She had barely said a word to me the entire evening. She had smiled and said all the right things to everyone around us, holding onto my arm and pretending to be the perfect newlywed wife. But when it was just the two of us, she seemed distant. This is how it had been since a few days before our honeymoon ended. I didn’t know what had happened or why she was acting like this. I had asked her countless times if she was okay or if she wanted to talk about something, but she always said she was fine. But I knew that wasn't true. She had closed herself off from me and I had

no idea why. When we were away from the house we now shared, she was the image of the perfect wife, charming everyone she met at the various functions and social events we had to go to. When we invited people to the house to entertain, she was a gracious and welcoming hostess. But as soon as it was just the two of us, she shut down again. I couldn’t understand what was wrong or what she was going through. I tried to tell myself that it was pregnancy-related, but it seemed like something much more. It was frustrating, but it also hurt me to see her this way. I was watching her body change, her belly became rounder and more distinct as our daughter grew, but I felt like I was experiencing it from the outside instead of with her. She was distant, like she was in another place mentally, and even when we went to her check-ups, I barely felt like we were in the same room together. I wished I could understand what was going on. I wanted to know what had changed.

I knew that something had changed for me. The feelings I had for her were so much stronger now that I couldn't imagine a day without her. Even when I felt like she looked right through me, and she went to her own bedroom at night rather than sharing a bed with me, I wanted to keep trying. I wanted to reach out to her and find a solution to whatever she was facing. Because she was right there. I was looking right at her. And yet she was somewhere else. It happened in what felt like an instant. Our honeymoon was more than I could have ever wished for and I had started to think that marrying her was the best decision I had ever made. We had spent long hours wrapped in each other's arms, talking about ourselves, our hopes, and dreams. I felt like I learned more about her in those few, short days than I had in the decades I had known her. She looked happy and relaxed, as glad to be there with me as I was with her. Then it was over.

The second to last day of our honeymoon, something changed. All the happiness seemed to drain from her and I felt like she had put up an invisible wall between us, preventing me from even getting close to her, much less touching her. We had started that morning in each other's arms, enjoying the feeling of ocean air coming through the open windows, seeming to reassure us that everything was right with the world. We ended our honeymoon with Cherry sleeping on the sofa in the living room of our bungalow, not even allowing me to sleep on the sofa and give her the bed. She wouldn't explain to me what had happened to cause this sudden shift in her mood. All she would say was she needed time to herself. She did say one thing to me that lingered in my mind well after we got off the plane and came back home. "You don't have to stick around here with me all day, Gabriel. It's not like this is actually our honeymoon. It's not real, remember?"

We had been back from our trip for two months when I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn't handle any more of the cold indifference that Cherry was showing me. This wasn't how things were supposed to be and I couldn't stand the thought of facing even one more of these long, miserable days of not knowing what was different between us. Emma had made dinner for us before leaving for her night off and Cherry grabbed her plate, heading for the parlor where she now ate her meals while reading rather than with me. This time I didn't let her go without a fight. I stepped in front of the door, blocking her path. "What are you doing?" she asked, sounding slightly startled, as if she had forgot I even existed and was shocked by my sudden appearance in front of her. "I can ask you the same question."

She looked at me impatiently. "I'm going to eat my dinner," she said. "Then you should come sit at the table with me." "Why would I do that?" I let out an exasperated sigh. "Is it so crazy to imagine that a wife would want to eat dinner with her husband?" "Suddenly you're my husband?" Pain gripped my chest. "Of course, I'm your husband. I have been for a couple of months now. What's in the hell is going on with you?" Cherry shook her head and tried to walk around me, but I stepped to the side to block her again. "Get out of my way, Gabriel," she said through

gritted teeth. "I don't want to be in here with you anymore." I stepped out of her way to let her pass, but I turned around and fell into step right behind her, following her into the parlor. A Christmas tree sparkled in the corner where Emma and Harlan had set it up, just like every year. The feeling in the room, though, was far from festive. Cherry wouldn't even look at me as she placed her plate on the coffee table and curled into a corner of the couch, wrapping a quilt around herself and picking up the book that she had left perched on the arm. She stared at the page in front of her, but I noticed her eyes weren’t actually moving. "Cherry, look at me." She didn't move so I took a step closer to her. "Look at me." She dropped the book to her lap and glared. "What, Gabriel? What do you want?"

"I want to know what's wrong with you. I want to know what happened." "What do you mean what happened?" "Everything was so great when we were at the resort. Then you shut down. You won't hug me, you won't kiss me. You'll barely even talk to me. Most of the time you don't want to be in the same room as me." "It's just too hard, Gabriel," she finally replied. "What's too hard?" I sat down on the other end of the couch and looked at her imploringly. "I let you be as involved with the pregnancy as you want to be, don't I?" "Yes." "And I'm a good wife when we're in public? I'm sufficiently doting, and I get you the attention that

you want?" "Yes, but…" "So, I'm exactly what you want me to be. I'm carrying your child and giving you the image of the perfect family man. That was the agreement. That's what you wanted. I can't give you any more." "What do you mean?" "Every time that you look at me, every time you hug me, every time you try to kiss me, it just makes it harder." "I don't understand." "I can't let myself feel close to you, Gabriel. I can't pretend that this is real. I need to focus on getting through this obligation I have to you, deliver this baby, and then move on with my life. I need to be able to heal." "What do you mean?"

"I promised myself from the beginning that I wasn't going to let myself have feelings for you. I was never going to admit I fell in love with you when I was ten years old and have never stopped loving you. It was my fault that I let my emotions get the best of me. I started to feel like there might be something real between us, but I realized nothing had changed on our honeymoon." "I thought that our honeymoon was amazing." "It thought so, too," she said. "Until I saw you on the boat with those women." "What women?" "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about." "I really don't know what you're talking about." "I had slept in because I was exhausted. When I woke up I was planning on requesting a picnic from the kitchen, so we could bring it to the waterfall I

had painted a few days earlier. I wanted to show it to you and finish the painting. But you weren't in the bungalow. I went looking for you and when I got outside I saw you out on the water with four beautiful women in skimpy bikinis on the boat with you." She gave a mirthless laugh. "I guess I should be impressed. Up until then, I thought your record was three." I thought about what she said, trying to remember what she could be talking about. Suddenly it occurred to me. "The Thompsons." "Who?" "The Thompsons. They're sisters. They're the daughters of one of our best clients. I’ve known them since we were teenagers." "Isn't that cozy." "Cherry, nothing happened. I didn't do anything

with them. Any of them. I haven't even looked at another women since you came back into my life, and I won't. I am committed to you and want to be a good husband to you." I meant it with full sincerity, but Cherry didn't seem to care. She barely seemed to hear me. "I know the type of man you are, Gabriel. You said it yourself. You aren't a family man. You never wanted a wife. I just need to keep that in mind so that I don't get hurt. At least any more than I already have." "Yes. I told you I never thought of myself as having that kind of life, but if there was ever going to be a woman who could convince me I should, it was you. And I meant that." "How romantic. If you’re forced to deal with something you never wanted, at least you might be able to tolerate it with me. I'm so touched."

"That's not what I meant, Cherry." "I know what you meant. Just be honest with yourself, Gabriel. This all started because you needed an heir to take over the company. If we hadn’t happened to reconnect, you would have found someone else. You always do. You're not known for being discreet. We just need to accept this for what it really is and move on. You can live the life that you want to. That's fine. I'm not going to worry about it anymore." "What's that supposed to mean?" "I think it's time for me to move back in with my mom." I felt my heart sink. "What? Why?" "There's really no point in me being around here and I know that she would appreciate having me around, especially with the holidays coming up. I

don't want her to be alone. This is her first grandchild too. Let's face it, this will probably be her only grandchild. She wants to be more involved with the pregnancy and help me prepare for our daughter to be born. I can still come with you to parties and be here if you are entertaining anyone, but I don't feel like anything more than is actually necessary. Besides, with as much as you're going out of town on business the next two months, it wouldn't seem strange at all for a first-time expecting mother to want to be with her own mother rather than in a big house all alone. You can have your space and do whatever you want in it, and I can have mine. I think that it would be best for everyone." "I don't want space from you," I insisted. "I don't want to be away from you." "I'm sorry, Gabriel. I can't do this anymore. Maybe it won't be so hard on me after the baby's

born…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, standing up. She put the book back on the arm of the couch and walked out of the room, leaving her dinner untouched on the table.

I wanted to tell myself that it was going to get easier after Cherry moved out. I tried to convince myself that although it would take some getting used to after she left, I would eventually get accustomed to being alone again. That didn't happen. The truth was that it got harder every single day to wake up and even make it out of bed. And honestly, that wasn't even the half of it. To go to bed and not be able to tell her goodnight killed me. I hated how everything had happened between us. Everything had all gone so well at the beginning and I had truly convinced myself that it would turn out differently. And now I found myself feeling like

everything – my marriage, my family, my future, my entire fucking life – was falling apart around me. I couldn't bear the thought that I had ruined everything with Cherry. I didn't want to think that I could cause her any more pain than she had already gone through. I knew she didn't trust men. Her heart had been so broken that she just didn't believe in love anymore. And even in those moments when she did believe it existed, she questioned whether she was worthy or if she had even found it. I knew the answer to that. She was more than worthy of love and she had already found it. With me. But I felt like I had confirmed everything that she had ever thought about the men in her life. She believed that her father and Brent were the only truly good men she had ever known. That she will never find a man she could trust and who would love her like she deserves. As much as I knew that wasn't true, I didn't know if I would ever be able to get her to trust me again.

After Cherry moved out, I didn’t hear from her for nearly two weeks. When she finally messaged me, it felt like it had been so much longer. I had texted her over the holidays, but she hadn’t replied. Gifts for her still waited in the Parlor. I still hadn’t taken the tree down yet. I didn't want our first Christmas together to be over without ever actually happening. It was a few days after the new year when I received a message from her. It only read "two months to go." Attached to it was a picture of her most recent ultrasound. It frustrated me to miss one of the final appointments, but it was scheduled during a planned business trip. I looked at the picture and felt my heart ache. Nothing had improved since she had left. She was still cool with me, still keeping her distance. Seeing the image of our baby girl, so close to coming into this world, really hit me. Reality set in and I couldn't deny it anymore. This marriage wasn't going to work.

Three days later I stalked into my father's office and stood in front of his desk. He gestured at the seat that I usually took, but I shook my head. "There's something I need to tell you," I said. "Alright," he said. His voice sounded cautious, as if he already anticipated that whatever was coming couldn't possibly be good. "What is it, son?" "My marriage to Cherry, the wedding, everything, is a ruse," I said. "A ruse?" he asked. "What do you mean?" "I mean it wasn't real. We didn't get married because we actually wanted to. We got married because you wanted us to. I did it because you said I needed to have a wife and a child before I was good enough to take over the company. And I was stupid enough to go along with it. But I'm not going to do it anymore." "But the baby…"

"The baby is real," I assured him. "She'll be here in less than two months and I can't let her come into the world with the entire family convinced of a lie. I can't fake my life anymore, Dad. I shouldn't have done it to begin with. You should have trusted me with the company regardless of the way I lived my life. My choices don't have anything to do with how well I know the business or how hard I work. You should have accepted me for who I am and trusted that I would live the life that was best for me without fixating on the company. But I never should have let you manipulate me like that, either. So, we're both to blame. But it's over now. I love my daughter and I'm going to be the absolute best father for her that I can possibly be. But I'm not going to disrespect Cherry anymore by carrying on with this fake relationship. She deserves so much more than that. I don't care about inheriting the company anymore. I wanted to carry on the family legacy, but if you have such a huge a problem with

me and how you think that I make you look, then I don't want it. " I waited for his reaction. I waited for him to explode and lash out at me. But he remained completely calm. Finally, he spoke. "I'm so proud of you" he said. "What?" "I'm proud of you," he repeated. "You're a good man, Gabriel. I was wrong, but you were strong, and you stood up for yourself, and you want to do the right thing." "Not soon enough, though." "It's never too late to do the right thing, son. It's harder to have to face the fact that you made a mistake and admit it, than actually fixing it. I didn't mean to manipulate you. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t love you or I didn’t think that you're good enough. I know that what happened when you

were younger was hard on you and led you to make some bad decisions. I should have been there to help you find your way back. But I wasn't. It shouldn't matter if you’re married or not. It shouldn't matter to me whether you want to have a child or not. You're right about that. You are driven and talented, and extremely good at what you do. Most of all, you're my only son. That should have been all I took into consideration. I'm sorry that it wasn't." "Thank you, Dad. That means a lot to me." "Now, I can't say that I'm thrilled with the idea of your marriage to Cherry being fake. I really like her, and I think she is a wonderful match for you. But I'll support you in anything that you think is right. Just let me know what I can do to help you." I nodded, drawing a breath. I felt a tremendous sense of relief, but there was also a pit of anxiety in my stomach as I thought about what I had to do

next. "I would appreciate it if you could get me in touch with your lawyers."

Chapter Twelve

Cherry

"Alright, Georgia, time to go for a little walk. We're going to waddle all the way down to the mailbox today. " I rubbed my belly, amazed at how big I had gotten just in the last couple of weeks. It seemed that my body was changing every day and I was becoming increasingly aware of how close I was to delivering my daughter. She made it known that she was beginning to anticipate her arrival as well. It seemed that she rarely slept, spending all day and most of the night rolling and flipping around, kicking me in the ribs over and over again. It felt like she was stretching her little arms and legs as far as she possibly could, just to see how much more

space she could find inside of me. I didn't know how much longer I would be able to accommodate such an active tenant. But at the same time, I wasn’t ready for my pregnancy to be over. Not yet. I loved the way it felt to carry her. I loved knowing she was safe inside me and that everywhere I went, we were together. All too soon it was going to be over, so I made sure to cherish every minute I had left. I made my way down the long driveway that lead to the gate in front of our house. The mailbox was attached to a narrow stone column that anchored the gate but was positioned so that I didn't actually have to leave the property in order to get my mail. I wasn't really expecting anything. I had opted out of every magazine and mailer that I possibly could. All the bills for the house went directly to Gabriel so I didn't even get those. Often the mailbox was completely empty. Sometimes Jess would send me a postcard or a letter just so that I

didn't feel left out from those who still routinely received snail mail. My favorites were the ones that she created and printed herself. One of those was waiting for me in the mailbox that day and I stopped to read it. The front was a picture she had taken of the laundry room at my old apartment complex. 'Wish you were here' was written across it. I laughed as I flipped it over and read the short paragraph in Jess’s tiny, perfect handwriting. It always amused me to see her handwriting. It didn’t fit her personality at all. In fact, one day during college she revealed that during high school she hated her natural, messy scrawl and had spent months teaching herself to write in this perfect typewriter style. That story made every postcard that much better. "Cherry Reed?" The voice startled me, and I jumped slightly before looking out the gate. A postal worker was

standing on the other side near the mouth of the mailbox that allowed me to receive mail without leaving the property. He looked apologetic as I gripped my belly. Georgia was either as frightened as I had been or thought that the whole situation was hilarious because she was now kicking frantically and seemed to be bouncing her little butt against my spine. "You scared me," I said. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to. I realized I had forgotten to bring this to you. It wouldn’t fit in the mailbox. I'm glad I caught you down here. It saves me from having to get buzzed in and walk up that deadly driveway." He sounded like he thought he was hysterical but considering that I was less than a month away from giving birth and had just hazarded what I hoped would be the last ice of the year to make it down here, I was less than amused.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked. He held up the envelope that he was holding. "Like I said, I forgot to bring this to you." I reached through the bars of the gate to get it, but he shook his head. "I can't give it to you until you sign for it," he said. "Sign for it?" I asked. "It certified," he said. "I have to get a signature that confirms you received it." I stepped closer to the gate and accepted the pen that he held out to me, signing the slip with something that looked more or less like an actual signature. I hadn't gotten accustomed to signing my name with Gabriel's last name yet. I got used to just scribbling something that looked like a signature

and letting whoever saw it assume it said Reed. He took the paper and held the envelope out to me. "Thank you," I said. Curious, I started opening the envelope while I was still walking up the driveway. As soon as I got it open I stopped and felt like I couldn't take another step forward. I couldn’t breathe. It seemed like it wouldn't matter anymore if I could remember my new last name or not. I was served divorce papers.

"I expected this. I knew this was coming. So why does it hurt so much?" I had the divorce papers spread out on the table in front of me and was sitting with my elbows propped on the table, my head resting in my hands as I scanned over the document again and again. Jess finished making me a cup of peppermint tea

and brought it over to the table, setting the mug beside me as she sat down. "You didn't expect them until after the baby was born," she said. "Besides, whether you know they are coming or not, divorce papers will never be something fun to receive. It’s normal for you to feel at least a little bit sad about them." "But it just hit me so hard," I said. "I'm the one that told Gabriel that it wasn’t working, and I wanted to move out of the house but getting this just knocked the wind out of me completely." "I'm sorry," she said. "You shouldn't be having to deal with this. Not now. Not so close to the baby coming." I dropped my hands to the desk and straightened my spine. "No," I said. "You know what? Yes, I should. This is exactly the right time for me to deal with

this. It's better for me to get it over with before she's born. This is what is going to work out best for everyone. This way we'll be officially separated by the time she arrives, and we won't have to deal with all of that while also taking care of a newborn. If she was already born and then we got divorced, it would make things much more complicated." I drew in another breath, desperately fighting back feelings of devastation. "This is right," I said. "This is the first step in getting my life back. Can you find me a pen?" Jess dug a pen out of the junk drawer in the kitchen and brought it to me. Her expression was sad and sober when she handed it to me. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked. "Aren't you the one who told me I shouldn't let myself get wrapped up in him? That in the end, this was just an arrangement? A means to an end? Well...I've done the means...and now it's the end.

Besides, it's not like I can argue with him. I signed a contract. Several of them, in fact. This was never meant to last forever and, honestly, why would I want it to? Would I want to stay in a marriage where my husband and I don't live together, and barely even talk to each other, much less see each other? We got married because it would make the families happy and that our baby deserved to know that we were married and that she wasn't a mistake or some weird obligation. But I think it would do her more harm than good if she was aware of what we were like now." So even though my heart was breaking, I took the pen and signed each and every page. It was time I moved on with my life. The contract that we had signed even before I got pregnant was very clear about visitation and responsibilities, so there wasn't really anything to think about. In fact, it was a harsh reality that we put far more thought into detailing how we were going to handle the

pregnancy and raising the child than dissolving our marriage. Jess didn't stay much longer after I signed the papers. Usually I liked having her with me, even if it just meant that we sat silently and watched TV. But that day I wanted to be alone. I needed the time to myself to reflect on the changes that were coming. I had just laid my head down to take a nap when my phone rang. I looked at it and saw that it was Gabriel. For a moment I didn't want to pick it up. The last thing I wanted to hear right now was his voice. I couldn't imagine why he bothered to call me in the first place. He must have known that I had gotten the papers already, so what more was there to say? On the last ring, I scooped it up. I needed to remind myself this was the way it was supposed to be. We had talked about it from the very beginning and I had always told myself I wouldn’t feel like a scorned woman when it finally happened. We were supposed to be able to get

through this because we had been friends for so long. The least I could do was respect that now. He had more than lived up to his end of the agreement. I needed to be responsible for mine. "Hello?" "Hi, Cherry," he said. He sounded happy, almost excited, and that made my heart hurt even more. He must be relieved to know I had signed the papers. Soon, Gabriel would be free of the wife he had never wanted in the first place. "Hello." "How are you doing?" How was I doing? What the hell kind of question was that? "I've been better," I said. "You are getting pretty close to the end of your

pregnancy," he said. "I'm sure you must be feeling a little bit uncomfortable." "What do you want, Gabriel?" "I called to ask you to meet with me tonight." "Meet with you?" "I think that we need to talk. I can send Harlan to pick you up." "No. I'll drive myself. When and where? " I hung up the phone and stared at it sitting there on the table like I thought that it was going to magically transform into something else. What just happened? Gabriel had asked me to meet him for dinner only a few hours after I signed our divorce papers. Suddenly, it occurred to me that was the reason he wanted us to meet. I had signed the papers and now he needed to. Meeting with me today would save all the time of having me turn the papers over to a lawyer to be brought to him. If we

met up and he was able to sign them tonight, we could end this marriage much faster. I dreaded walking into the restaurant, but I kept my head up as I walked through the tables and approached the private alcove where Gabriel sat. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. There were flowers on the table and I noticed that he had opened a bottle of my favorite sparkling juice. We had used it at our wedding because I couldn't drink champagne. "Here are the papers," I said to him, taking the folder I had out of my purse and setting it on the table in front of him. "Thank you," he said. "Come on, sit down. I've already ordered our appetizers." I sat, and Gabriel cheerfully poured me a glass of sparkling juice. This all felt surreal. it was so strange to be sitting there with him, the reality of the papers that he had served me hanging over us

but unspoken. I had only been sitting there for a few moments when the waiter walked up and settled plates of appetizers in front of us. I was instantly reminded of the first time that he had brought me to dinner in the gorgeous restaurant at the top of the vintage hotel. That seemed like so very long ago. "Thank you," I said. The waiter walked away, and Gabriel picked up his glass. He held it out to me. "To us." "To us?" I asked incredulously. Gabriel took a sip of the juice and set the glass down. He reached for my hand and took it in his. "Thank you for coming to meet with me tonight," he said. "But I do want to warn you. I think that we should take it slowly. I'm going through a divorce."

He laughed, and I felt my cheeks burning with anger. I stood up sharply and tossed my napkin to the table. I glared at him, trying to say something, anything that would tell him how I felt, but no words would come out. I turned and started out of the restaurant. The other people there started furiously whispering, but I didn't care. Let them stare. Let them whisper. It didn't matter to me. I could hear Gabriel calling my name as he chased me, but I didn't stop until I was outside of the restaurant. He reached out and grabbed me by my wrist to turn me around to face him. "Leave me alone, Gabriel." "Cherry, stop. What's wrong?" "What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you serious? You think that you’re funny? I know that none of this was ever real to you, but that doesn't mean you need to make fun of me. This divorce isn't easy for me, and I'm not laughing."

I started to walk away again, but he pulled me back. "I thought that this would be what you wanted," he said. "I know I said I couldn't handle living the way we were, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt that you think us getting divorced is hilarious. This is still painful for me." "I didn't mean for it to be painful," he said. "I did it because I love you." I stopped cold, my brain trying to process what he had just said. "What did you say?" "I said that I did it because I love you." "You served me with divorce papers because you love me?" "Yes," he said. "Neither one of us were happy in

a fake marriage. I hated that you thought it didn't matter to me and that I was still seeing other people. I wanted to show you just how much you mean to me and that even though it wasn't something we had originally planned on, from the moment I married you, I meant it. I wanted to be able to show you how much I love you and that I want us to be together." "So, you want to divorce me." "This way we can start again. When the divorce is final, we can start dating again and…" "That is a terrible idea." Gabriel stopped. "What?" "Do you know how bad it would look to people that you divorced your wife three weeks before she was due with your baby? How am I going to get insurance?"

"I didn't think about that." "And then super weirdly started dating her?" "I didn't think about that, either." I looked at him and the slightly confused expression he had on his face. My heart swelled, and I burst into laughter. I laughed so hard that I felt tears streaming down my face and soon I heard Gabriel laughing along with me. When I finally had control of myself again, I stepped up as close to him as my belly would allow and wrapped my arms around his neck. "Please tell me you don't have another set of papers that you signed hidden away somewhere?" "No," he said, shaking his head. "Dad's lawyers gave me very specific instructions." "Your dad's lawyers?" I asked. "You didn't use your own?"

"No. I figured that I had already put them through enough with the baby contract, and the second baby contract, and then the wedding contract. I thought they deserved a break." "Well, maybe they would have liked to bring it full circle." "Maybe. But Dad's lawyers said that even though some couples each sign their own copies and then exchange them, they preferred to have one person served and then meet to have all of the copies done." "So… we're still married?" "Yes." "Good. Because I love you." Gabriel grinned widely, and I finally felt like things were back to normal again. Our normal, anyway. He leaned down and kissed me.

"I love you, too." He gave me another kiss. "But I still want to date you. You might be my wife, but you should be wooed." I laughed and held him tighter. "I would be happy to be wooed by you."

I brought Gabriel home with me that night. I wanted to spend more time with him, but I wasn’t ready to go back to the house that we had shared. Not yet. It may be time soon, but for now I wanted him to make the effort to come be with me. He sat beside me as I lay in bed, his hand gently rubbing my belly as we talked. He stayed with me until I fell asleep before going off to sleep in the guest room beside me. I woke the next morning to the sound of him in the kitchen. I headed toward the concerning crashing and found him banging through all the cabinets.

"Good morning," I said. He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Good morning. I wanted to make you some peppermint tea that you like so much, but I can't find any." "I don't have any." He let the cabinet swing closed. "That would be why. Remind me to have a couple of packages of that delivered to you every week." "Delivered here?" I asked. Gabriel stepped up to me. "I didn't know what you were thinking about that. It’s up to you. Whenever you're ready to come home, I'll be waiting for you." "Thank you," I said.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me closer, leaning down to give me a kiss. "But for right now, let's talk about today. It's Sunday. I don't have any work to do. No meetings. No obligations. What do you want to do?" "Well," I said. "There is something I've been thinking about. I'm not sure if you'll be up for it. It's a little wild." Gabriel raised one eyebrow at me and I smiled mischievously. Twenty minutes later, we were sitting up against the headboard of my bed. I changed into a fresh pair of sweats and Gabriel had put on one of the pairs of lounge pants and a t-shirt he had left here when I first moved in, so he would have clothes here. Each of us held a bowl of ice cream in our laps and I was squeezing chocolate syrup over mine as Gabriel spooned walnuts over the whipped cream he had swirled over his rocky road.

"Wait...so why did she take his bowling bag?" I pointed at the screen with the bottle of chocolate. "She's been married three times to the same guy and now she lives with this guy, Steve, but he doesn't want to marry her. He goes out drinking and bowling all the time but doesn't have a job. Then she gets fired from her job teaching dance lessons and thinks that it is the perfect sign for them to start over again in Chicago, but he turns her down and is kind of a jerk about it. Well, not kind of. He's a major jerk about it. So, she leaves him and brings his bowling bag with her because it's what he always cared about so much." Gabriel took a bite of his ice cream and nodded. "There's a deep lesson in there somewhere. I'm sure there is. What happens now that she's in Chicago?"

"Why don't we just watch the movie?" "Because I want to make sure that everything works out." He said, drawing the spoon out of his mouth and gesturing with it as he spoke. "Does she teach dance in Chicago? Does she regret going to Chicago? Does Steve ever get his bowling bag back?" "Yes, Steve gets his bowling bag back." "Is it just the bag, or is the ball actually in there?" "You see, I'm not sure. Because right at the beginning when she pulls it off the shelf in the bedroom closet and says that she's taking it, it looks heavy. So, I would assume that would mean that there was a bowling ball in it, right? Besides, who just has a bowling bag sitting around with no ball in it? But then later in the movie when she throws it at him, it hits him and doesn't cause any obvious injury, which I would think would happen if the ball

was in there. That and she is just an itty-bitty thing and is always teetering around on those spiky heels. I don't think that she'd be able to haul it at him like that." "Why does she throw the bag at him?" "Just watch the movie." He took another bite of his ice cream. "Fine, but next we're watching Die Hard." "Do people die in it?" He stared at me for a few seconds like he couldn't decide if I was being serious. "Yes." "Okay, good. I don’t want to watch anything with false advertising." I took another bite of my ice cream before setting the bowl on the table beside the bed and

swinging my legs off the side so that I could head back to the kitchen. There was a time when I would have run in there and back, but at this point all I could muster was a moderate scurry. When I got back into the bedroom I was holding a bottle of maraschino cherries. I curled back up against Gabriel and placed my bowl of ice cream back in my lap. "I almost forgot the best part," I said as I unscrewed the top to the bottle. "The best part?" I took a cherry from the sweet syrup and placed it in the center of my whipped cream dollop on top of the ice cream. "The cherry for my sundae." I cuddled up to Gabriel's side and rested my head on his shoulder. "I love Sundays," I said. I glanced up at him.

"The weekend version, not the edible version. Well...the edible version as well." Gabriel kissed the top of my head. "You, Cherry, are the very best part of my Sunday." He grabbed my hand and dipped my finger into the whipped cream before bringing it up to his mouth and sucking the cream off my skin. "And of my sundae." Desire burned in his eyes and Gabriel leaned forward, catching my mouth in a deep kiss. I felt his tongue brush against my lips, coaxing them to open. I parted them, and he dipped the tip of his tongue in just enough to graze my own. It was simultaneously tender and cautious, but possessive at the same time. He kissed me deeply but without force, without any sense of expectation. It was like he was reaching out to see where I was, if I was comfortable with his touch, as we worked our way back to one another. At the same time, it was a

reminder that I was his, that he had claimed me as his own. I returned his kiss with just as much passion and returned his touch with just as much emotion. Even though we were still finding our place in this relationship, I was fully and completely committed. By now, I knew that I belonged to him with all my heart.

Chapter Thirteen

Cherry

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Larkin smiled warmly at me as she walked into the room. At least, I imagined that she was. The tone of her voice sounded like she could be smiling, but in all honesty, I was laying on my back on the examination table and couldn't see her face over my belly. Finally, she came around the side of the table and smiled down at me. Nailed it. "Like I've run out of space," I said. "I hear that a lot," she said. "Which makes sense because that's basically what's happening inside you

right now. All that nice space the baby had up to a few weeks ago is gone up now and she doesn't have much wiggle room anymore. She's pretty crowded in there at this point, which is fine because it is just about time for her to come out." "Is it normal that I haven't felt her moving around as much as before?" Gabriel asked. He had been spending a lot of his free time with either his hands or head resting on my belly. Sometimes he would whisper to the baby and when I asked him what he was saying, he would reply that it was for her ears only. I loved thinking about all the secrets they would share by the time she was born. She was so lucky to have a daddy like Gabriel. I knew he was going to be amazing with her and I couldn’t wait to see the two of them together. "That is perfectly normal," Dr. Larkin said. "Are you feeling her move at all?"

"Some," I said. "Little wiggles. Some hiccups. Just not big movements like before." She nodded. "As long as you feel some movement each day, you're fine. But if you’re ever concerned, or something just doesn’t feel right with you, don’t hesitate and come on in. It's better to get checked out a hundred times and have it all turn out to be nothing than to ignore something one time that could end up being serious." I let out a slow breath at the sobering thought and Dr. Larkin patted my thigh comfortingly. "Don't worry. This baby girl is strong and healthy. She'll be here before you know it. Speaking of which. Have you started getting ready for her arrival?" She took her place at my feet and measured my belly, then felt it to check the baby's position. "Yes," I said.

"Good," she said. "So, the nursery is ready, and you have her car seat in the car?" She checked my cervix before walking around to my head to reposition the bed into a more upright position. I felt like I could breathe again, and made a mental note to ask the nurse to not lay me so flat during my next appointment. Suddenly what Dr. Larkin asked me earlier registered in my brain. "The car seat?" I asked. She paused. "Yes," she said. "You have to have a newborn car seat in your car to bring the baby home. It's best to have it in place well before you come to deliver so that it's one less thing you have to worry about during labor or before discharge. You haven't installed your seat yet?" We haven't even bought a seat yet.

How could we not have bought a seat yet? "No." "Well, add that to your to-do list for this week. That and packing your hospital bag. At this point, your baby could make her appearance at any time. People always say that your first baby ends up late, but it doesn't always happen that way. If there's one thing I do know about childbirth, is that you can't expect anything. That baby will come on their own time. She might just surprise you." "Sounds just like her mama," Gabriel said. I walked out of the doctor's office feeling slightly dazed. "How do we not have a car seat yet?" I asked. "What?" Gabriel asked as he pushed the elevator button. "You heard Dr. Larkin. A car seat is one of the

most important things we need. It's a necessity. And we don't have one. What kind of mother am I that I don't even have a car seat for my baby who's due any time now?" I was starting to panic. Now that we were out of the office, my anxiety grew out of control. I could feel tears forming in my eyes. As the elevator doors opened, Gabriel took me by the waist and guided me inside. Once we were in, he wrapped his arms around me and stepped back so that he leaned against the wall, bringing me in closer to him so that he could look into my eyes. "You are the kind of mother who has never had a baby before. You might not have a car seat yet, but you have been taking care of our daughter with every breath, with every decision you make. You are ready to love and protect her, and that is the most important thing you can do for her. The rest will fall into place. We still have time." He ducked

his head down and gently kissed me. "You are going to be the most amazing mother. There is no one in this world who I would want to carry my child. And I want you to know how much I look forward learning how to be parents with you." It turned out that dating my husband was exactly what I needed during the last few weeks of pregnancy. Even though I knew our baby was coming soon, I didn’t realize just how imminent the birth was until Doctor Larkin asked about the nursery and car seat. I knew there was a tremendous amount to do before we would be ready to welcome her home, but Gabriel was going to be right there with me every step of the way. The remaining time we had together as a family of two was precious to both of us. He took me on dates that almost always ended with us wandering around the clothing store to buy a few more outfits for the baby or sitting together in the nursery and making sure that everything was ready. It soon occurred to

us that just one nursery wasn't enough for our unique situation. She was going to need one in the home Gabriel and I now shared, as well as my house in case we were ever over there. I had moved back in with Gabriel but was still sleeping in a separate bedroom as we worked on taking things slow and building our relationship again. But she was also going to need one in my mother's house for when she was spending time with her grandmother, as well as Monroe's house. He had become increasingly excited about the thought of having a granddaughter as the weeks progressed and I knew that he was going to want to spend plenty of time with her. Gabriel and I were drawing closer to one another than I would have ever thought possible. Although we were technically married, I finally felt like we were a real couple. We were dating and getting to know each other as adults on an even deeper level than before. We were building our

relationship around the family we would soon share. One night as we were putting the final touches on the nursery in my house, I stopped and took a good look at my husband. Gabriel was building the crib and I was suddenly struck by how sexy he was, even while doing such a menial task. Removed from his tailored suits and loafers that (thankfully) never quite recovered from the mud, Gabriel was rugged and charmed. He reminded me so much of the boy I fell in love with all those years ago. He seemed to finally notice I was staring at him and looked up at me. "What is it?" he asked. I shook my head. "It’s nothing," I said. "I was just looking at you." He smiled and walked over to me on his knees. "Well, looking at you is one of my favorite things to do in the world, so I can understand."

He kissed me, smiled, and kissed me again. "Look," I said. "It's finally finished." I put down my needle and showed him the blanket I had just completed. I had been working on it the last few months but had finished the final and most challenging part. It was pink and white with flourishes of lavender and baby blue. In the center our baby's name was embroidered in delicate scroll. "It's beautiful," he said. "It will keep her toasty and warm." "When we hold her," I said. "She's not supposed to sleep with a blanket until she's older." "I know," he said. "I've been at the doctor, too. You know, you never told me why you chose her name. I love it. I think it's perfect, but why did you choose Georgia?" I had chosen our daughter's name after our

honeymoon, right after I found out I was having a girl. Our relationship was strained then, and I would often try to turn my thoughts away from missing Gabriel by focusing even more on the baby growing inside of me. Choosing a name for her had been a way for me to affirm to myself that this was my child, too. And that the decision I made at the very beginning to be a part of her life was the right one, and that no matter what, I would always be there for her. When I told Gabriel that I had picked out a name, part of me felt guilty. I told him I had been calling her Georgia for weeks, but if he didn't like it, we could choose something else, but he said no. If that was what I had been calling her, then it was already her name. He would choose her middle name, but from that moment on, our daughter's name was Georgia. "I've always loved the name," I said. "But I think there was a subconscious part of me that chose it because it perfectly fit our relationship. I

missed you so much when I named her. I was thinking about you all the time. Giving her that name must have been my brain's way of dealing with it." He made his way back over to the crib and gave me a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" he asked. "We've never been to Georgia together." "I know," I said. "But I had gone to Georgia the week before I was supposed to meet Anthony’s parents for our pre-wedding tea. " "Ah, yes. The peaches." I nodded. "The peaches. If I hadn't gone down to Georgia for that baby shower for my friend from college, then I never would have stopped at the orchard and picked the peaches to bring Anthony's parents. And if I had never done that, then Jess never would

have tried to force that annoying wedding planner to eat one even though he was apparently deathly afraid of fruit that comes with its own fur. And if that had never happened, I never would have gotten angry at her and seen the opportunity to use said fur-covered fruit as a weapon. Which means that I never would have thrown the peach at stupid Anthony's head." "And Edna never would have felt so bad for you and given you the job if you didn’t chuck the official fruit of Georgia at that asshole’s head.” "Exactly," I said. "Basically, I never would have ended up working with you." "And we wouldn't be here." "Yeah. We wouldn’t be here."

I had to give it to Jess. Procrastination had always been her go-to move, but when my best

friend pulled through with something, she really pulled through. That was definitely the case with the baby shower she threw me a week before I was due. I hadn't even thought about having a baby shower. It just wasn’t something I had thought about doing, considering the unusual circumstances. The closer that I got to her being born, though, the more I realized just how much I wanted to celebrate her and welcome my baby into the world. Regardless of the circumstances that triggered her conception, she was my baby. She was the child I had always wanted, and I was blissfully happy to be having her with the only man I ever truly, deeply loved. I wanted to celebrate that with the world, but especially with the people who are closest to me. Even if they didn't know it, they had all helped me through some of the hard times, and I wanted to let them know how much I appreciated them. Even though Gabriel and I had suggested that

we plan a co-ed baby shower together, she had her heart set on a traditional baby shower and all its prissy details. She wanted to play all the ridiculous games and decorate the space with as much pastel pink, ruffles, and lace as possible. None of the food served at the shower could be larger than two square inches. It was an absolute must. I wasn't exactly sure where she had gotten that number from, but it seemed non-negotiable, so I ended up letting it go. And even with all her whirlwind planning, Jess threw a baby shower for me that was everything I could have ever hoped for, even if I never realized I wanted to feel like I was sitting in a field of pink cotton candy, eating food that could have come out of a Gumball machine. I thought we had almost anything a baby could ever need, but by the end of the shower I was positive that whatever supplies might have been left in the baby supply store certainly belonged to us now. When Gabriel got home from his night out

with his father, cousins, and a few friends, I heard him call out to me from the door. "I don't think that we are ever going to need to buy a package of diapers ourselves," he said. "This baby is going to have all the diapers she could ever need. Look at this haul." He came into the living room and stopped in his tracks when he saw me sitting on the couch surrounded by the piles of gifts that I had received at the shower. He was holding two large boxes of diapers under each arm and balanced another tenuously between his fingers in front of him. "I think you won," he said. I nodded. "And I think that you are woefully, hilariously underestimating the number of diapers a baby goes through." "Remember that car seat we bought when we

left the doctor's office?" I asked. "Yeah." "How many more do you think we need?" "Well, I guess there should be one in each of the cars that we ride in regularly and it would be nice to have one at my father's house. Maybe one for Jess if you think that she will ever babysit. So... a few." "Okay, good, because I think we have like seven now." I tried to sit up from the reclined position I had somehow slid into on the couch, but It didn't work. I groaned and picked up my feet to rest them on the table. Gabriel put down the diapers and came over to the couch, sitting beside me. "You look exhausted," he said. I wanted to make some kind of witty comeback,

but I was too tired. "I am exhausted," I said. "Who would have thought that growing another human being and sharing your food with it would take so much out of you?" He laughed and took hold of my ankles, turning me around carefully so that my head rested on the throw pillows at the end of the couch and my legs laid across his lap. He took one of my feet and began to massage it. I moaned and felt my body relax instantly. He pressed deeper into the sore, tired muscles of my feet and I groaned again. I opened my eyes and saw him staring at me. Those were sounds I hadn't made in a long time, and we were both very aware of that fact. I craved him, even now. I ached for Gabriel and longed for him to touch me. But we had agreed to keep that aspect of our relationship on hiatus until after the baby was born. Honestly though, the more we got to know

each other, and the deeper that we fell in love, the hungrier that we were for one another. We both wanted more distance from the contract and everything we had gone through before being intimate again. When it was time, we wanted to be able to introduce ourselves to one another again with no strings attached and freely explore that aspect of our lives. Telling ourselves that didn't make the lonely nights any easier, though. Sometimes it felt like we had been waiting for forever and the days before Georgia’s due date stretched longer than I ever thought possible. Less than a week later, my water broke, and with the car seat firmly strapped in, we rushed to the hospital. After seven hours of labor, Georgia had finally arrived. Even though we had waited all those months for her, when I finally held her in my arms, it felt like I had blinked, and my pregnancy

was suddenly over. I could still remember the first time I saw her, the tiny little speck on the screen that shouldn't have been there. I knew then that this was going to be one of the most important experiences of my life. If not the most important. I looked down into the beautiful, perfect little face of my newborn daughter and ran my finger along her soft cheek. "You certainly have changed from when you were a happy little Tic-Tac," I whispered to her. "I love you so much." Gabriel perched himself on the side of the bed, sitting next to me, and reached for her. I settled her into his arms and he cradled her close to his chest. She had been fussing slightly, but as soon as he brought her up against him, Georgia settled down and her little eyes slowly closed. Soon she was breathing slowly and deeply, completely content to be tucked away against her daddy's heart. I knew

exactly how she felt. It seemed like we drifted through the first two days of her life as we stayed in the luxurious, private birthing suite at the hospital, welcoming a steady stream of visitors that had come to meet our little princess. Then it was time to go home and reality truly sank in. We were parents. We had brought a precious life into the world and now we were tasked with raising her. I had never felt such an incredible sense of responsibility before, but I also never felt so honored. Even as we enjoyed the happy daze of new parenthood and contended with sleepless nights, we both knew the countdown had begun. We were busy trying to get a hang of all those parenting skills you know must be so easy yet totally defy you, like attempting to change a diaper while also breastfeeding in the middle of the night, but there was one thing constantly in the back of my mind. Just before I was discharged, Doctor Larkin

visited me and gave me some parting words of wisdom. She told me things that I never wanted to hear about my body and reassured me that even when I felt like something was wrong, it was most likely perfectly normal. She handed me a few prescriptions to fill at the hospital pharmacy, before leaving her final words of instruction. "Remember. No sexual activity for six weeks. You need to heal." That was going to be a challenge.

I had a mental countdown of how many days were left until I could be in Gabriel’s arms again, but I tried not to fixate on it too much. It only made it harder to think about how long we had left. I concentrated all my time and energy on Georgia, lost myself in what a wondrous creature my tiny daughter really was. Just as I had noticed that I changed so quickly during the last part of my

pregnancy, I noticed new things about her every single day. She quickly changed from a delicate newborn to a strong, chubby baby. She was only a few weeks old, and yet she was growing so fast and changing so much that I wanted it to slow down. And yet, as her little personality developed more, and I began to imagine the type of person she was going to be, I fell even more in love with her. It was amazing to see how she discovered the world around her and learned to interact with it. While before she had spent most of the day either sleeping or eating, as time passed she was awake for longer and discovering new things every minute. She began to smile and to gurgle, and her face lit up when she heard Gabriel's voice. I began to imagine what she would be like as she got older and what kind of person she would become. "What do you think she'll want to be when she

grows up?" I asked Gabriel one afternoon as I placed her in her bouncy seat. She stared with fascination at the mirror above her face. "Well, I hope that she wants to come work with me," he said. His words sank in and I realized that had been the point all along. We had her in the first place so that he had someone to give the company to when he retired someday. "Oh," I said. "I guess that would be fine." "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked. "No," I said. "I guess I figured that would only be the plan if she was a boy. The company has only been passed down through the men in your family, so I just envisioned that you would pass it down to your son."

"I would have wanted to pass it down to my son —" "See?" I interrupted. "If I had one. But I didn't. I had a daughter, and I believe that she will be just as capable of taking over as a boy would have been." "Yes, she will be," I said, leaning down to kiss her sweet face. "She's lucky that she has a daddy who thinks of her that way." "I have to," he said. "If I didn’t, her mama would probably throw fruit at my head."

Five weeks after Georgia was born, I started preparing myself for Gabriel. Just one more week before my body would be ready for him again, and I couldn't wait. I was dying with anticipation, actually. We already asked Monroe to watch Georgia for the evening and while I was dreading

the thought of leaving my baby for the first time since she was born, I was excited about the prospect of spending time alone with Gabriel again. We’d been waiting for so long I knew there was a distinct possibility that the second she was safely in her grandfather’s arms, we would be headed straight for our bedroom. I wanted to make sure I was ready for that. For the last two days leading up to the date we had circled on the calendar in bright red marker, I spent far more time than usual grooming and primping myself. I wasn't exactly sure what was behind the compulsion I felt to preen so extensively. I hadn't gone through all this effort before our first time together, and Gabriel had been more than happy with what he had found in that shower that night. But that had been in the heat of passion. That night was the result of a long simmering desire that finally erupted when neither of us could contain it anymore.

This was deliberate. This was planned and anticipated. And after six long weeks, I wanted it to be incredible. The day before the six-week mark, I was making dinner, having claimed the kitchen from Emma that night, when Gabriel came into the room. He stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing the side of my neck. I giggled and leaned into the kiss, then turned around and kissed him back. "Dinner is going to be ready in about twenty minutes," I said. "Is Georgia asleep?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "I gave her a bath earlier and she drifted right off." "She's a good girl," he said. "I hope she continues that pattern tomorrow night when she's with your father. Are you sure that

you don't want me to ask my mother to help?" "He’ll be fine," he said. "Besides, your mom has come over and gotten to spend a lot more time with Georgia than he has. He wants a chance to bond with her too. And he might just want a chance to have her alone, so he can start telling her all of the company secrets." "Corporate espionage?" Gabriel laughed. "I think he hopes that if he starts now, she'll be able to usurp me and take over the company when she's twelve." "That might be pushing it." "Alright. Fourteen then." I laughed and gave him a spoonful of the leftover filling from the pot pie I was making. He groaned and opened his mouth for another bite.

"You're going to have to wait," I said. "The actual pie is in the oven. It'll be ready soon." "How about you?" he asked. "What do you mean?" "Are you ready for tomorrow night?" A shiver ran through me and settled between my thighs. I bit my bottom lip as my nipples tensed in anticipation from thinking about peeling his clothes away and feeling his thick, hard length inside me again. "Yes," I said. "I can't wait. I go to the doctor at ten. Georgia has her checkup at eleven." "I'll have Harlan here to pick you up at eight." "Harlan?" I asked. "Pick me up? What?" "For our date." "But I thought…"

"I have something planned," he said. He kissed me again before heading out of the room. "It's a surprise! Don’t ruin it."

Chapter Fourteen

Gabriel

I walked around the restaurant again to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect. I had already checked it a dozen times before and knew that nothing had changed, but I couldn't stop myself. I was too excited. The anticipation for this night has been building up for so long and now that it was finally here I felt like I might burst. I was amazed that I had been able to keep this a secret from Cherry, to be honest. She was amazing at uncovering even the smallest of surprises that I tried to plan for her. I didn't even think that she did it intentionally, she just happened to discover any plans I made while trying to do something nice for her without her knowledge. While that made it

easier to make sure what I was planning for her was something that she actually liked, it did take some of the thrill out of being able to surprise her. But this time, I wasn't going to compromise. I couldn't have her find out before tonight. I had gone to fairly extreme measures to make sure that all the details were just right and that the plans I made were done so in a way that she couldn't possibly discover them. At this point, and considering our track record, I figured that it was far more likely that she would think I was carrying on some sort of clandestine affair than actually figure out what was going on. I knew that she originally had different plans for tonight. The hunger in her eyes every time that she looked at me told me that she was having the same thoughts I was as the first six weeks of Georgia's life passed by. I counted down the days. I spent nights thinking about touching her. But that's what made these plans so much better. She knew that

both of us had been waiting these six long weeks to pass us by so that we could be with each other again. So she was surprised to find I had made plans for a night out. I could only hope that any feelings of disappointment she had wouldn’t last long. I checked the time and saw that it was nearly six o’clock. I had chosen that time specifically. It was a cheesy little nod to our milestone, but I knew that she appreciated my oddball sense of humor and found it funny. It would be a good start to our night. Right at that moment the doorbell at our house should be ringing. Georgia was already with my father, so she wouldn't know that standing on the front porch was a woman delivering a gown I had designed and brought to life, just for her. A few minutes later, a makeup artist and hairstylist would arrive to help her get ready for the evening. I wanted her to feel special and beautiful tonight. I wanted her to feel like the most important woman

in the world, because to me, that’s who she was. Finally it was eight, which meant that Harlan would be now arriving at the house to pick her up. Part of me hoped that she hadn't been paying close attention to where we went the first night we had dinner together after being separated all those years. I didn't want her to figure it out, at least not too quickly, that she was heading to the restaurant at the hotel. The car arrived at the restaurant exactly on time and the host walked down the back staircase to get Cherry so that he could escort her up to me. I stood in the middle of the restaurant holding a single chrysanthemum. Something I had learned over the last few months was that Cherry hated roses. If they were growing on bushes, she could admire them for their beauty and their smell, but as soon as they were cut, they brought back too many bad memories. They reminded her of her ill-fated

engagement and family funerals. I never wanted her to think about those things, especially when she was there with me. Tonight was all about her being happy and I wanted to start things off by giving her the flower she had mentioned was her favorite. Cherry smiled as she stepped into the room, her eyes falling on the flower "I can't believe you remembered," she said. "Of course, I did." I leaned down and kissed her. "I love that you brought me back here," she said. "This place is so amazing. I'll always think of it as where we had our first date. Even though I guess that dinner wasn't technically a date." "Who said that wasn't a date?" I asked. "Was it?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "I knew from the minute I saw you

again that I had to have you. I never stopped thinking about you." "You didn't?" "No," I said. "Walking away from you that night was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." "Why did you do it?" she asked. This was a conversation that we should have had so long ago, but we had avoided it like the plague. It was something that hung over us every time we were together, but we didn't want to acknowledge there was a problem there. It was a crushing, painful memory that neither one of us wanted to relive again. But I knew this was the right moment to talk about it. We had to talk about it. From tonight on, I didn't want to have any secrets, any lies, hanging over us. I didn’t want her to have any questions or doubt. "I almost didn't, I admit it. When I walked into

that room and I saw you, all grown-up and gorgeous. I wanted you so bad. I had for a while, but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same. It didn’t help that your brother was adamant that I wasn't to have anything to do with you. I never wanted him to feel like I betrayed him or his memory." "I was a big girl," she said. "My brother didn't get to say what I did and didn't do, or who I was allowed to have feelings for." "I know," I said. "And I didn't walk away for him. I walked away for you." "What do you mean?" "You weren’t ready for me then," I said. "Your mind was somewhere else. Brent had just passed a few weeks before, and you hadn't even figured yourself out yet. I knew that there was so much left in the world for you to experience and I wasn't in a place in my life where I could give you what you needed. You were so young and scared and broken.

You weren't ready to make that decision and if I hadn't walked away from you, I would have felt like I took advantage of you. I would be taking something from you that was far too precious for me to take back then." "Losing my virginity to you was something I had been thinking about for a really long time," she finally replied. "I wasn't talking about your virginity," I said. "Though, of course, that was important too. I was talking about your choice. If I had stayed in that bedroom with you, I would be taking away your ability to choose the memories of your first time. Even though you thought you were there because you wanted to be, and that it was what you really wanted, you weren't in your right mind that night. You know that as well as I do. I wasn't either. But I was old enough to know that if we had sex that night, and you woke up the next day and I was

gone, you would carry that with you forever." "Yeah. Instead, I carried the weight of you rejecting me and leaving me alone. For years." "But at least with that, you had the opportunity to wonder why it happened. You wondered why I didn't stay there with you. Why I didn't take you up on your offer. I'm sure by that point, you had heard plenty about me and my less than sterling reputation, and you probably wondered why you weren't good enough to be one of the girls I slept with. I was positive that you would think about that for the rest of your life. And I was okay with that. Because the alternative was that you would think I was a callous asshole for the rest of your life and that you were so worthless I could take your virginity and leave you behind, never to see you again. You see, it was never that you weren't good enough to be one of those girls. It's because you were too good to be one of them. I never saw

myself as being the type of man who wanted to settle down or have a family, not even then, but when I looked into the future, I always saw you. I always hoped that we would somehow find our way to each other again." "Why didn't you tell me that?" Cherry asked. "Why did you say that we could be married for an appropriate length of time and then go our separate ways? If you saw me in your future, why would you want to do that to me?" "My father loved my mother more than I think anyone should have the right to love. Even when I got older and he got more serious and spent increasingly more time working, their marriage was strong and loving. Of course, they fought and squabbled. I do remember times when it seemed like they couldn't stand to be near each other, but I never once, not in my entire life, questioned that they loved each other. These were people who

couldn’t even get through a complete fight with each other because all they wanted to do was comfort one another. They adored each other more than anything in the world, until the day that my mother died." "That was the way my parents were, too." "Then you know what it's like to watch them and wonder if you will ever be able to find something that even remotely resembles what they share and feeling terrified that you won’t. When you grow up with parents that in love, it's easy to feel scared that your own marriage will never be that wonderful. You hear so often what marriage is like from unhappy, miserable people and realize that their relationship is truly special. I told you before, you are the only person I’ve ever envisioned being with for my entire life. That was true the first time I said it and will be every time I say it. To be honest, I was scared that if I tried to

have a real relationship with you, it would mean that I would eventually lose you. If we got married, I thought that somehow, I would mess it up, and it would end with us hating each other. But if we pretended that it was just for show, and separated amicably after a while, I could keep on loving you for the rest of my life." "Well," Cherry said. "I think you were right on a few things." My heart started beating a little faster. "You do?" "Yes," she said. "We did get married. And you did try to divorce me." There was a hint of laughter in her voice and I reached down to take her hand. I guided her across the restaurant to the table we had sat at the first time we had dinner together. I had arranged for the lights throughout the restaurant to be lowered and

strands of tiny lightbulbs to be hung around the table so that when we sat down, it was like we were in our own little cluster of stars. She gasped when the strands turned on and the lights dimmed. "I've made a lot of mistakes, Cherry. I've said this to you before. I'm sure I'll say it to you again. And it will probably be warranted. But I want you to know that I will never try to hurt you and that I never meant to hurt you in the past. I've been scared of even trying to fall in love my whole life, but right here, right now, I know that I’m not scared anymore. I can't bear the thought of going even a single day of my life without you at my side, and I want everyone in the world to know how I feel about you. Being with you is more than worth the risk of maybe losing you some day, because I will devote every single day of the rest of my life to make sure I do whatever it takes to make sure I don't. I love you, Cherry. I love you because you know who I really am and who I was and love me

anyways. I love you because you don't know who I'm going to be in the future and yet you're still willing to stick around and find out. I love you because of who you are and who you were and for whoever you're going to be. I love you because you never stop surprising me. I love you because you make me laugh in ways I've never laughed before. I love you because you are the best part of every day. I've been thinking about this for a long time and I hope that you feel the same way that I do. Because even though you are technically my wife," I said, reaching into the strategically placed centerpiece on the table and pulling out the hidden ring box inside. I opened it and eased myself down onto one knee in front of her. Holding the ring toward her, I took a deep breath. "I wanted to ask you... Will you marry me?" "You want to renew our vows?" she asked. "Yes,” I said. “I want to do it all again. But this

time I want to do it for us. What do you think?" She smiled widely and nodded "Yes," she said. "Yes. I would love to marry you again."

Cherry had been sleeping in a different bedroom since moving back into the house, not because the two of us wanted to be apart, but because we so desperately wanted to be together. Before she moved out and returned to the house she shared with her mother, having her in the separate bedroom felt cold and distant. It felt like she had withdrawn from me and didn't want to be a part of my life. It was different now. Now it increased my desire for her and made the time that we did get to spend together even more important. I had longed for her sweet touch for months. When we stepped back into the house after dinner

that night, I knew that she would never again sleep in any other bed beside my own. To be sure, I slipped my arm behind her legs and swept her up so that I cradled her against my chest. I carried her up the stairs and into my bedroom as she left a line of gentle kisses on my neck. This was where I first made love to her. This was where I possessed her, where I claimed what was rightfully mine. I wanted to have her here again. Back then it was a compulsion, a heat that threatened to consume us both if we didn’t put out the flames. Now it was fully focused and completely intentional. I brought her into my room and softly laid her down across the bed, not just because my body ached with the need to be buried deep inside her, but because I wasn't whole without her. My soul yearned for hers. Cherry looked incredible in the dress I had custom-made for her. I worked with the designer

for weeks, wanting to create something that would be uniquely Cherry. We had gone through hundreds of potential designs, and I wasn’t entirely sure of what I wanted or why each one that she showed me wasn't good enough. But as soon as I saw the design for this particular gown, I knew that it was the one. I could envision her in it even when the design was just a sketch on the page. When I saw the finished product, I was even more excited to see her wear it. The dress itself was beautiful, but it was just a piece of fabric without Cherry. It would take her sensual body, the softness of her skin, and the tumbling waves of her hair for the dress to meet its full potential. It was even better than I could have imagined when she walked into the restaurant. She took my breath away. I was even more convinced that she was the woman I wanted to take my breath away for the rest of my life.

Now I moved slowly over her, taking my time to run my fingers along the silky fabric, feeling the curves of her body beneath it. When I reached her skirt, I carefully moved it out of the way and groaned at the sight of the lacy garter she wore to hold up her thigh-highs. I kissed my way down the inside of her leg, from her upper thigh down to her ankle. Holding her foot carefully in one hand, I ran the other hand up her leg, reaching up to release the clips on her stockings. I carefully rolled each thighhigh down her leg, kissing her soft skin as it was revealed. I repeated this for the other stocking, relishing in her taste. Cherry sat up and climbed off the bed. She turned to me and slowly began to remove her gown, teasing me. I had waited so long for this night that I thought when I finally got her alone, nothing would be able to stop me from being consumed by my desire. Now that I was finally here, though, I wanted to make it last. I wanted to savor every

second. I wanted to not only celebrate being able to make love to her again, but the future that we had in store for us. Our eyes met, and I began to follow her lead. I stepped out of my shoes and then slipped out of my jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair. She reached behind her to lower the zipper on her gown as I unbuttoned my shirt and together we let the layers drop away. As she stepped out of the dress, I unbuckled my belt and took off my pants. So little separated our bodies now. Cherry came around the side of the bed to where I was standing. I reached out for her and she stepped into my arms so that I held her tight against my chest. I could feel the warmth of her skin and the fullness of her breasts pressing against my chest. My cock stiffened, and she pressed forward with her hips to nudge it. I took one of my hands and tucked a finger under her chin to bring her face up to mine. We

kissed deeply, slowly, our tongues intertwining as I gently guided her back on the bed again. When she touched the mattress, Cherry took her mouth from mine and sat down, sliding into the center of the bed without taking her eyes off me. I removed my boxers before lowering myself on top of her. I kissed her neck and then over her heart. She wasn’t wearing a bra under the dress and I could see that her breasts were already full of arousal, her nipples taut with anticipation. I brushed my mouth over them and Cherry cooed, writhing slightly. I felt her hands move to her thighs as she drew her knees up and pulled her panties off. Finally, there was nothing separating our skin. Our bodies were heating up as I ran my tongue down the center of her body, not wanting to wait another second to taste her sweet pussy. Soon Cherry's hand was grasping at the comforter beside her. I could see her knuckles clench so hard that they turned white as she almost

pulled the sheet off the mattress. As she arched up off the bed, her eyes closed, and her head fell back. I grabbed her hips and pressed her back down again, running my hand down to her belly so that I could hold her in place. She let out a cry of pleasure as I flicked my tongue in and out of her hot, wet folds. By the time I nestled my mouth into her sweet core, her body was more than ready for me, making her taste even more delicious as I worshipped her. I pushed her thighs apart, spreading them against the bed so that her legs were wide open. The position caused her to be fully revealed to me, making her completely accessible to my touch. I tucked my hands around the backs of her thighs and pushed her ass up a little higher, lifting her hips slightly off the mattress. I flicked the tip of my tongue in fast, intense strokes directly on her clit. The moans echoing out of her reverberated through me like thunder, sending intense ripples of arousal

and desire along my body. Cherry writhed against the bed, but I held her down firmly, ensuring that she would stay exactly where I wanted as long as I wanted her to. I knew that, at this moment, there was nowhere else Cherry wanted to be. We had both waited so long for this. I knew that she needed me just as badly as I needed her. We were fully at each other's mercy now and even though this was not the first time I had touched or tasted her, it was different. I approached her with an even greater sense of reverence, with even more tenderness. She was the mother of my child. We came together on an entirely different level than before, going beyond the pleasure of our bodies and binding our hearts and souls together. I sensed that Cherry was close to losing all control, but I wasn't ready for this to end, not yet. I managed to pull my mouth away and instead began

kissing along the inside of her thigh to allow her to come down from the spiraling heights of pleasure. As soon as she did, I would turn my attention right back to her and would bring her to the peak again. It was a delicious, delirious torment and I wanted it to last. I repositioned Cherry so that she was seated in front of me. I came around to her side, switching positions with her so that I was now lying back with my head on the pillows. She licked her lips as she kneeled between my spread legs, knowing exactly what I wanted from her. Cherry bit down on her bottom lip as she focused on my rock-hard erection that had been aching for her touch for weeks. She bent down and ran her tongue from its base to the underside to the tip. There was already a drop of salty fluid there and she licked it up, pausing to dip the tip of her tongue into the slit. Gripping the base of my cock in one hand,

Cherry used her tongue to trace along the head. She paused occasionally and used the end of her tongue to lick the very tip and the sensitive nerves beneath the head, concentrating on the intensity of the sensations in the same way I did for her. Deep, primal groans formed in my chest and poured out from my lips as Cherry began to stroke up and down on my hard shaft. Her soft, smooth palm and delicate, precise fingers ran along the length of my engorged cock as she continued to use her mouth to suck on the tip. The layers of pleasure were dizzying, and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to tolerate it for much longer. I sat up and took Cherry by her upper arms, turning her and laying her down on her stomach so that she faced the foot of the bed. I climbed over her and balanced on my hands and the balls of my feet so that I didn't allow too much of my body weight to press down on her. I moved myself back and forth over her so that my erection glided on top

of her thighs, rolling my hips in tight movements to stroke against her without actually entering her. Cherry whimpered and lifted her hips, opening herself completely to me. The attention from my tongue had her soaking wet and I could see how much she wanted me. I couldn't wait any longer to feel that slick, satiny flesh on my cock. I pushed into Cherry with one hard thrust. The sudden feeling of my hard rod stretching her open her elicited a primal scream of pleasure from her chest and I pressed a little deeper. I growled and stretched forward over her so that Cherry could fully envelop me. I wanted her to surround me, be completely filled by me. She lifted her hips in response and ground them against my cock, pushing herself further onto me. I reached under her and cupped her breasts. I knew by Cherry's sounds and the heat of her body that she was close to coming. She was practically shaking already. I thrust into Cherry relentlessly until her body

crashed into a powerful orgasm that left her shuddering and gasping for breath. Her climax didn't slow me down. Instead, feeling her squeezing me, tightening her pussy around my cock, only spurred me on further. I supported myself on one hand and lifted her breast with the other so her back arched slightly. I sat up on my knees for better leverage so that I could slam into her with greater speed and intensity. Even though she had just orgasmed, Cherry was right there with me, panting and crying out as she gave her body to me and took all the pleasure that I could offer her. I had all of her and yet I wanted more. I never wanted to be without this feeling. I thrust harder, wanting to be able to remember this feeling even when we were apart. My climax came on suddenly and powerfully. I felt my entire body tense and let out a strangled moan as my cock swelled, then began to pulse

wildly within her. I pressed all the way into her and remained buried there as the tremors continued to flow through me. I could feel the hot streams spilling out of me, filling her, bonding us together. Finally, I lowered myself gently from my knees onto her and carefully rolled us over on our sides. I remained inside her as I curled around her. I didn't want the connection between us to end until it had to. Cherry took my hand in hers and held it to her chest. I could feel her heart pounding and the sweat on her skin. I kissed the back of her shoulder and laid my head on the mattress, so my mouth was close to her ear. "I love you."

When I woke up the next morning Cherry was sitting on her knees at the foot of the bed. She was wearing my shirt from the night before and her hair was still tousled and out of control. The flush on

her cheeks and brightness in her eyes made her even more beautiful and I loved that I was the only person who ever got to see her this way. She was completely mine. Her hand was wrapped around a mug and I could smell the scent of coffee wafting through the air. I sat up and held out my hand to her. She smiled and crawled forward on her knees until she was sitting beside me. "Want a sip?" she asked, holding the mug out to me. "I thought that you only liked your coffee filled with cream and sugar," I said. "I wasn't allowed to drink coffee while I was pregnant, so now that I can, I want it as real as possible. I've learned to love it this way. But all bets are off this summer. As soon as it's warm enough, I might just bathe in creamy, delicious, sugary, iced coffee."

I laughed and took the mug from her. I took a long swallow and felt the bracing heat rush down my throat. The bitterness woke me up and I moved a little closer to Cherry to kiss her shoulder where the collar of my shirt had fallen away, exposing her delicate skin. "So, no more peppermint tea?" I asked. "I don't know about that," she said. "Peppermint tea and I got pretty close. I feel like I'll probably keep drinking quite a bit of it. But for now, I'm on a coffee-in-the-morning kick." "Good to know," I murmured against her shoulder. I raised myself up higher so that I could reach the curve of her neck, and I took hold of the shirt and started easing it out of the way. "You know what I've been thinking about?" she asked.

"That Georgia won't be back for another hour and we should really take advantage of it? Maybe we could visit the shower again?" "Actually, she's already here," Cherry said. "She is?" She nodded. "Apparently she didn't get the memo about our hopes that she would sleep through the night for your father. He called around sunrise and sounded like he was on the brink of tears even though he said he had a wonderful time watching her. When I asked him what they had done together he said that he walked and bounced, and she stayed awake. I know that it came from a place of love and he really did enjoy some of it, but I know he needed his sleep. It's been a long time since he's taken care of a baby. It's going to take some getting used to again. I told him to go ahead and bring her home. You were so peaceful that I didn't want to wake

you." "Where is she now?" "Asleep," I said. "Of course, she is." He laughed. "How long did it take her to fall asleep when she got home?" "I could hear her gurgling when he carried her into the house and by the time that I had her in my arms, she was out like a little light. I haven't heard a peep from her since." "Wait, you went downstairs and opened the door to my father wearing nothing but my shirt? And with your hair like that?" "Of course not," she said. "I wore a bathrobe. I can't make any promises about my hair. But to tell you the truth, this was a man who was supposed to take care of a six-week old baby for a few hours, agreed to stretch it to the rest of the night when we asked him, and then had the baby keep him up until

sunrise. I don't think that he noticed. I don't think he would have noticed if I had walked down there completely naked." "He didn't drive, did he?" "No. I'm fairly certain I saw him lay down in the back of the car before his driver could shut the door." I laughed and sat up completely. "I'll have to call him later and thank him again. He's going to be really happy when he hears about the wedding." My relationship with my father had changed so much since I came clean with him about my arrangement with Cherry. Though we had gotten closer when we prepared for the first wedding and the baby to be born, the reality that I wasn’t honest with him from the start hung over me. When I finally confronted him and told him how I really

felt, it felt like I had taken a sledgehammer through the walls that had formed between us as I got older. When the weight of losing my mother and running the company dragged him down. I felt like we were closer now than we had ever been. There were times when I even felt like he was the same man that he used to be. I knew, deep down, that part of him would never be the same. That was the part of him that went with my mother when she left this Earth. But I hoped that as Georgia grew up, she would get a chance to experience the fun man I knew and loved when I was a child. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Cherry said. "Are you already getting cold feet?" I asked. "The top drawer in the dresser over there is full of socks. Go ahead and put on as many pairs as you need to." She laughed and shook her head.

"No, I don't have cold feet. I am elated at the idea of marrying you again." "Then what is it?" "I'm just not sure about the whole wedding planning process. Or the wedding itself, to be honest. It was all so much leading up to the first wedding and I'm really not looking forward to all of the pomp and circumstance again." "Then we don't need any," I told her. "We don't?" I took the mug from her hand and took another sip. "No." I slid out from under the covers and went to my dresser to pull out lounge pants and a t-shirt. It was Sunday and that meant a day of relaxation with my favorite girls.

"Just 'no'?" "Just 'no'. If you don't want it, we won't do the whole elaborate ceremony again. We don't have to do any of it." I reached for her hand and pulled her up off the bed so that I could wrap my arms around her. As much as I had loved seeing her pregnant, I was happy to be able to hold her so close again. "We can do as simple a wedding as you want. We could even go off and elope somewhere. You can have anything you want as long as it means you will be my wife, both legally and in our hearts, and everyone will know. This time it’s real."

Cherry

I put down my coffee and wrapped my arms tightly around Gabriel's waist, clasping my fingers together at his back so that I could squeeze him

while nestling my head into his chest. "When do you want to have the wedding?" I asked. "I haven't really thought about it," Gabriel said. "If you are willing to wait a year, I have an idea." "I have already waited a lifetime for you." "Then I would like to have the ceremony in the spring so that we can spend part of our honeymoon feeling like everyone is celebrating our marriage...in New Orleans." Gabriel's head dropped back, and he let out a laugh, then pulled me closer and kissed me. "You're always surprising me, Cherry Reed." I glanced at the baby monitor on the bedside table. Georgia had remained quiet. We could steal a little more time together. I guided Gabriel back to

the bed and pushed him over so that he landed with me sprawled on top of him. His hands ran up the backs of my thighs and lifted his shirt I was wearing out of the way, revealing that I didn’t have anything on underneath. He growled and captured my mouth with his. I felt happier and more content than ever before. At that moment I knew he loved me in a way that no man ever had, and that I loved him like I had never loved anyone before. We were truly meant to be together. It seemed like everything I had gone through, and all the time I had waited was absolutely worth it. We were finally together now.

Epilogue

Cherry

"You have got to be flipping kidding me." "Well, that's exactly what a girl wants to hear from her best friend when she announces that she's getting married." "You are already married," Jess said. "I know." "I just need you to understand what you've been putting me through. First, he was your childhood crush. Then he was your boss and we rolled around in the soap bubbles with him. Then you were having a freaking baby for him. Then you were engaged, and we thought it was real. Then we

found out it was fake. Then you were unsure if you wanted to marry him. Then you did want to marry him. Then you were married. Then you were kind of married. Then you were almost not married. Then you were married again. And now here you are, trying to be extra married. It's just a roller coaster of emotions for me." "I'm sorry that you had to go through all that," I said. Jess seemed undeterred. "But I'm not going to do any of that to you again. We have an entire year this time and I want you to be there with me every step of the way." "So, this is for real, right? Like really? No contracts. No arrangements. No weird clauses. No Great Uncle Henry willing his spooky Southern mansion to Gabriel if he agrees to host a wedding there and all the guests survive. Nothing all funky about this?" "No," I reassured her. "No contracts. No

arrangements. No weird clauses. Just Gabriel and me." One year later...

Everything was different this time. I breathed easily as I stood at the end of the aisle preparing to walk down it toward Gabriel. It wasn't a seemingly endless white river across a ballroom. It wasn't flanked by hundreds of unfamiliar faces with expectations in their eyes. The sound of a string quartet wasn't drilling into my ears and I didn't feel like I was going to melt into a puddle of anxiety before I made it to the altar. This time it was just about us. My body was free from the heavy layers, constricting bodice, and exorbitant train of my first wedding gown. The dress I wore now was a delicate shade of blush and made of airy layers that

cascaded down from the strapless neckline and swept around me in the soft breeze. I wore no jewelry except for the engagement ring that I had worn on my right hand since his proposal. My only accessory was a silver tiara encrusted with crystals. It was my treasure given to me on my sixteenth birthday by the only prince who ever made me feel like a princess. Around me, the ceremony itself stood in stark contrast to our lavish first wedding. A collection of fewer than fifty chairs were curved around a lawn strewn with flowers. A refreshing spring breeze filled the air with the fragrance of freshly cut grass and roses. It felt absolutely perfect, so fitting for the day that stretched before us. The flowers were the ultimate metaphor for renewal. They were always there, even when you couldn't see them. Their bulbs remain hidden under the surface during the dark,

cold times, but emerge again with the warmth of spring. This wasn't about anyone else. We designed the wedding around our expectations, our dreams, not anyone else’s. This day was all about our love and dedicating the rest of our lives to one another in a way that was open and free from any entanglements that might, even in a small way, detract from the joy of being married. Jess walked down the aisle in front of me, holding Georgia in her arms. Our little girl was sleeping peacefully, but her tiny hand was wrapped around a single bloom. She was the perfect flower girl. When Jess got to the end, she handed Georgia to Monroe. He grinned down at her with a light in his eyes that nearly brought me to tears. He had softened so much since she was born. That tiny baby had cracked through that hard wall he had built around himself and discovered the sweet,

loving man inside. He and my mother had been spending a considerable amount of time together as they bonded over the only grandchild that either of them had. While there was certainly nothing romantic about the two of them, it was a beautiful friendship forged over the love of our baby girl and the shared experience and pain of losing their spouses. They made each other stronger and helped each other see more to a stage of their life that had seemed to sneak up on both of them. It made my heart soar to see how much better my mother looked. The color had come back into her cheeks and she gained enough weight to fill her out, so she looked strong and healthy. For the first time in years, she had energy and spark, and I was hopeful that we had put that horror behind us. Now all she had to think about was making up for lost time and living as much as she could every single day.

The two of them would be taking care of Georgia while Gabriel and I went on a quick honeymoon. I knew that not only would she be in the best hands possible, but that they would both treasure the time they had with their grandchild without us being there to interfere. Soft music rose around me and it was time for me to make my way toward Gabriel. I knew that we were already married. I knew that nothing had ever really parted us. Yet I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I got closer to him. I felt strangely nervous, exactly as I would have expected to feel during my wedding. As I got to the head of the aisle, I glanced to the side and saw the empty chairs that we had left in the front row to honor my father, Brent, and Gabriel's mother. We hadn't wanted to bring any heaviness to this day, but we also knew there was no way we could renew our vows and fully commit to each other without including them in some small way. They had played such important

roles in our lives and would carry them in our hearts always. Gabriel reached for my hands as I got to the custom altar that we had designed. It looked and sounded totally different than the wedding we had, what felt like a lifetime ago. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I knew that this was exactly as Gabriel had said – this was real.

Two days later...

I laughed as I ran through our lavish hotel suite, tossing strands of beads behind me. Gabriel and I had timed our honeymoon to take place during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but after a short time at one of the parades, we were much more interested in having a private celebration of our

own. I reached the luxuriously furnished bedroom just in time for Gabriel to reach out and wrap his arms around my waist, twirling me around to face him. My husband brought his lips to the side of my neck and kissed his way down into the cleavage that spilled out of the top of my purple silk dress. He continued to kiss his way down as he lowered onto his knees in front of me. He placed his hand on my lower belly and pressed me down so that I was sitting on the cushioned bench at the foot of the four-poster king-size bed. I smiled as he took the hem of my skirt and lifted it up, revealing my legs. He took his other hand and slipped it between my thighs, easing them apart. He brought his mouth to the tender skin of one thigh and kissed his way along the inside. His hot breath tickled my skin and sent a thrill through my body that ignited the heat between my legs. I reached down and pulled him up to his feet, then watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it

away from his chiseled body. I grabbed the shirt as it slid down his arms and impatiently tossed it out of the way. He reached out and combed his fingers through my hair as I took a moment to admire my husband. No matter how many times I saw this man naked, I never got tired of this body. Every inch of him was gorgeous. I will never get enough of him or his touch. I could spend all day running my fingers along his muscles and tasting his skin and I would be more than happy. I indulged in that desire now, running my fingertips down the center of his stomach until reaching his belt buckle. He stepped out of his shoes as I worked his belt and unfastened his pants. As soon as his pants were loose, he stepped out of them and kicked them away from us. I grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down over his hips, revealing his long, thick erection that had been running through my mind since waking up that morning. It was so intoxicating that I couldn't

resist bending down and sliding my tongue along the tip and relishing the deliciously salty fluid that had gathered at the slit. Gabriel drew in a sharp breath and I smiled, feeling the velvety flesh brush against my lips. I repeated the lick, tasting more of his precum that seemed to slip from him faster in response to my touch. His hand grasped the back of my head as I parted my lips and took the tip of his head between them. He wasn't demanding, but encouraging, steadying my head and offering me stability as I swirled my tongue around the engorged head of his cock. I focused the tip of my tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and Gabriel moaned in response. He had gathered the bead necklaces that I had taken off and dropped in my wake as I ran through the suite and piled them on the bed. I took one of the necklaces off the bed, placing it in my hand. I wrapped one hand around the base of his erection and took the strand of beads in the other. Moving

slowly, I wound the beads carefully around the length of his shaft. I settled my hand around the beads and stroked him in long, deliberate glides. The beads rolled and pressed into him, and he groaned as the pleasure of the sensation overwhelmed him. After a few minutes I unwrapped the beads and set them beside me before tightening my grip on the base of his erection and taking him fully into my waiting mouth. I moaned at the feeling of him sliding in across my tongue, a familiar and delicious sensation. He guided me into a faster rhythm and I hungrily complied. My eyes closed as I felt him start to rock his hips and gently thrust into my mouth. I focused on feeling every vein and ridge, tilting my head so that his cock could dip down my throat. I heard Gabriel groan and I opened my eyes. His face was tight with pleasure and I watched him savor it for a few seconds before slowly

withdrawing from my mouth. I pressed the fronts of his thighs so that he would step back enough to allow me to stand. Getting to my feet, I reached behind me to release the tie on the back of my dress. It opened, revealing a matching purple silk and lace lingerie underneath. It glided down my legs as it fluttered to the ground, the feeling only heightening my arousal. I focused my gaze on him, biting into my bottom lip as his hand came to wrap around his cock and stroke it. His hand ran along his length with focus as he watched me slowly take off my bra. It seemed that the more deliberately I moved, the more determined his strokes became and I slowed my pace even more, hesitating before I let the fabric fall from my breasts. My breasts finally bare, I ran my hands down them. My nipples were already taut with desire from sucking on Gabriel’s cock. I continued down and tucked my fingers into the waistband of my panties. His hand was moving rapidly, and I turned

around, sliding the panties just slightly down. He groaned, and I turned a little, easing them down slightly to reveal more of my body. When I felt that I had teased him enough, I bent over, pulling my panties down to my ankles. Gabriels hand dipped between my thighs and slid over my hot core as I stepped out of my panties. I paused and parted my legs further, inviting more of his touch. I was already wet and hot, waiting for his touch, and his hand moved easily through my folds and over my tight clit. I cried out and started to stand, but I felt his hand press down on the small of my back and realized that he had come up behind me and was now standing only a few inches away. "No," he said. "Stay just like that." I rested on my elbows on the cushioned bench and presented myself to Gabriel. He could do anything he wanted to me. An instant later, his mouth touched my core and I felt my legs begin to

shake. There was nothing slow and gradual about his attention. His tongue laved me with unrelenting speed and pressure. I clutched at the cushions, struggling to maintain control. It took only seconds for him to prove that I was truly no match for how well he knew my body and the incredibly masterful way that he could manipulate it and take it fully under his own control. I screamed as an earthshattering orgasm crashed over me, threatening to bring me to my knees. Gabriel wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me up against him. He took a few steps forward, tossing me onto the bed. I gasped when I landed and flipped over, wanting to look at him. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took another strand of beads and came towards me. "Give me your hands," he instructed. I held them out to him and he wrapped the beads around my wrists, knotting them in the center

so that I was barely able to move them apart. I didn't know what was going through his mind, but I felt a thrill of arousal and anticipation. He crawled up on the bed beside me, close enough that his enormous erection teased close to me. I lifted my head and tried to lick him, but he pulled his hips back and shook his head. "Not yet," he said. He pulled on another necklace, breaking it, and wrapped one end around the center of the beads binding my wrist. He pulled them up so that he could tie the beads to one of the bedposts. This caused me to turn so that I was sprawled diagonally across the mattress. This show of dominance by Gabriel was causing my body to respond intensely and dramatically. I felt exposed and vulnerable on the bed in front of him, and yet I wasn't afraid. I wanted to offer myself to him. I wanted to give him whatever he desired. I felt so incredibly safe in his

hands, so treasured and loved. The renewal of our vows had cemented that and seemed to open me even further so that I was ready for any possibility. He picked up the tie that he had been wearing earlier and slipped it over my eyes. Not being able to see immediately heightened my other senses. My body tingled as everything around me seem to become more distinct. I bit my bottom lip and waited. There was a long, silent pause when nothing happened. I laid there on the bed, listening to the distance sounds of revelry still happening beyond the walls of the hotel. I could smell Gabriel. But he wasn’t touching me. The emptiness only increased my desire until I was wriggling against the comforter. Not being touched was making me want him even more and I parted my legs, opening my thighs so that I felt a rush of cool air against my wet folds. The final tremors of my orgasm had ended, and I was ready for more.

Finally, I felt Gabriel's fingertips touch the side of my neck. They started in the soft dip beneath my ear and trailed slowly down the curve of my shoulder. From there he traced my arm, outlining each of my fingers and pressing lightly into the center of my palm before making their way back up. I had never realized how sensitive the skin on the inside of my arm was until his feathery touch brushed across it. I felt a shiver travel along my spine in response to his ministrations. Gabriel continued his slow, tantalizing conquest of my body. He traced my legs, my waist, my hips, my breasts. My body shook as he ran his fingertips along my inner thighs and my back arched toward him. He seemed to be memorizing me, ensuring that every bit of my body was touched and appreciated. There was nothing rushed about his delicate touch, but it made me more aware of every inch of myself. My skin burned beneath his fingertips and I became sharply focused on every inch he had

touched. He pressed his hand to my breast, cupping gently, as if to monitor the rise and fall of my breaths. I was completely immobilized by his presence. I wanted to touch him more than I ever had. It was blissful, decadent torture. My body was growing hotter and wetter with every passing second, even though I thought such slow, deliberate touching would have allowed me to remain cool and calm. I finally felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. I strained against the beads. I needed him inside me. Gabriel sensed my desperation and reached up to release my hands. I was relieved to finally be able to touch him, but he didn't remove the tie from my eyes, allowing me to fully savor the intensifying effect of losing my vision. Gabriel eased my thighs apart and his fingertips found my most sensitive parts. He felt every fold, every dip, and finally the pad of his finger stroked my taut clit and I screamed at the explosive feeling.

All the extraordinarily patient caresses and touches had deepened my arousal to an almost frantic state. My clit throbbed in anticipation of his touch. I felt honored, worshipped by Gabriel. He swept his finger around it a few times before I felt the bed shift and could sense that he was crawling up to straddle my upper body on his knees. I felt his hand tucked beneath my head and lift it up. The smooth, velvety head of his erection brushed my lips and I reached forward, desperate to take hold of it. I parted my lips and he slowly began to thrust in and out of my mouth. A moment later, his hand moved back down my body and he began to touch my aching slit in the same rhythm. The delirious darkness of the blindfold allowed me to feel surrounded by the scent of his body and the sensation of him moving within my mouth. I licked my lips when he withdrew, still desiring his taste.

His hand tucked beneath my head again and the pressure of the tie around my eyes was lifted. I felt the silk slip away and I could finally look at him. Gabriel took me by my hands and pulled me up so that we were both on our knees in the middle of the mattress. He wrapped his arms around me and brought me forward so that our bodies crushed together. Our mouths tangled passionately, and he lowered himself to sit back on his heels, pulling me forward. I parted my thighs so that I could get closer to him until I was straddling his thighs. He took hold of his cock and guided it so that his head nudged my entrance. I rested my hands on Gabriel's shoulders and held myself steady as he entered me, allowing him to lower me all the way down until I sat in his lap, cradling him tightly inside of me. He guided me to rock my hips so that I grinded on his lap, creating tight, hard strokes, pressing the pad of his thumb to my clit. I cried out at the intense

combination of sensations, pulling my mouth away for a moment so that I could take a deep breath. I reached forward again, and our mouths captured each other. Gabriel used his free hand to cup my breast, squeezing into my soft flesh as he kissed me deeply. He lifted me up so that he could thrust harder into me, causing my breast to bounce in his hand. The sensations began to build out of control and before I could try to slow the rush, I felt my orgasm consume me. My pussy tremored and clenched around Gabriel, embracing him firmly. I closed my eyes and rode out my orgasm on him, but when I finished and had finally opened them, he was staring at me with a dark hunger in his eyes. "I haven't had enough of you yet," he growled. Gabriel took me off his lap and repositioned himself to lay on his back. I turned around and straddled his chest so that I faced away from him. I

rested forward so that my breasts brushed against his belly and took his cock into my mouth. I pressed my hips back, giving him a full view as I did my best to express my love and passion through my deep, hard sucks. His hand touched my back and glided along my spine, making its way down to my wet center. He pushed his fingers deep inside me and thrust at the same pace of the strokes of my mouth on his cock. The harder he thrust, the closer I knew he was getting to his own climax. I delved deeper and let him into my throat, and he let out a strangled cry as his cock stiffened. He spilled his hot seed into my mouth and I savored it, swallowing at the same pace as his orgasm. We slipped under the covers and I felt myself drifting to sleep. The next morning, we would leave for a long weekend at a private resort. Just like our ceremony was far simpler than our first wedding,

this was going to be a far quieter, more subdued version of a honeymoon. It was perfect for us. It was a chance for us to make new memories together and prepare to start our lives together as a true family. I nuzzled my head into the curve of his shoulder. From the ceremony to the celebration to the honeymoon, the entire experience was all about us. Nothing else. No one else. We had finally gotten our happily ever after. And I didn't even have to prick my finger on a spindle to do it. THE END

A Note from the Author Thank you for reading The Proposal. I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review? I would really appreciate it and be forever grateful. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read! Flip this page to read another one of my books. Included here as a special treat just for you is an Exclusive Full-Length Novel you won’t find anywhere else and some fan favorites. Thank you for reading my books and letting me serve you doing what I love! R.R. Banks

Becoming Daddy A Billionaire’s Baby Romance

I gave her a contract. She gave me a baby.

It was simple. Rue would carry my baby. My girlfriend and I would raise it. Just another contract in the life of a billionaire. Sounds simple right? Wrong. My girlfriend no longer wants me or my unborn

child. She may have given up on this baby, but I never will. And, I think I’m falling for Rue. Rue, with her small-town charm and her enticing curves… Ignites the fire inside me. I will give her the life she deserves. But will someone’s change of heart keep me away from the family I always wanted?

Chapter One

She was perfect. Too perfect. That should have tipped me off. I should have known the second that I saw her that things weren’t going to turn out the way that any of us were saying that we expected them to. I should have realized the minute that I looked at her too perfect blond hair, too perfect blue eyes, and too perfect pout on her too perfect lips that something was strange. But we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves…

Rue

“There have been many sage voices who

have spoken on the topic of love and its influence on the human condition. One of the greatest of our time illustrated this in the most powerful and poignant of ways with the words ‘If you want to be my lover, you’ve got to get with my friends. Make it last forever. Friendship,” Tessie looked at me solemnly and wagged her finger slowly, “never ends.” I stood in the kitchen of my tiny apartment cooking brunch as one of my two best friends read me the opening excerpt of her new novel, the tenth or so that she had started in the time that we knew each other, and the tenth or so that she was going to write five pages of, shove into a drawer, and never finish. My stirring had been brought to a stop by her words and I stared at her, ready for her to get to the joke, but she didn’t. Instead, she brought her notebook down from where she had been holding it high in front of her face and clutched it to her chest.

“That’s it?” I asked. Her dark eyes snapped to me and she nodded. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” she asked, sounding deeply offended by my question. “Didn’t it touch something inside of you?” Yeah, the same thing that it touched inside me in 1996. “I’m just not sure that that is the best way to start your existential novel on the sexual awakening and pair-bonding rituals of today’s woman and its over-arching impact on life in the context of the human condition as a whole,” I repeated, trying to remember the exact order of the words that she had used to describe this most recent endeavor when she arrived at the apartment that morning. Tessie nodded, a faraway look in her eyes that I imagined she thought was the same type of

look that the great Greek philosophers had when they were penning the great truths and musings of their time. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s too much. It’s too hard of a hit for the very beginning of the book. I need to give my readers the opportunity to gradually warm up to the intensity of the ideas that I’m presenting to them.” I reached out and patted her on the back. “You’re a kind and compassionate intellectual overlord,” I said. Tessie nodded, a tear coming to her eye as she contemplated just how misunderstood she was and the travesty that was her brilliance being wasted on such a dark and emotionally devoid world. I gave a short laugh and turned back to the butter sauce that I was stirring. It was nearly finished when I heard a knock on the back door. I looked at Tessie quizzically. No one came to the

back door. Most people didn’t even realize that my apartment had a back door, and those who did were unlikely to actually climb up the winding fire escape to get to it. I moved the curtain that hung over the small window in the door to peek out and saw Christopher standing on the stoop, his hands grasping the wrought iron railings on either side of him like they were giving him life. “It’s Christopher,” I said, letting the curtain fall back in place and going to work releasing the series of locks on the door. “What’s he doing on the back porch?” she asked. “I’m not sure,” I said. When all the locks were open I opened the door. The third in our group, and my friend for even longer than Tessie, Christopher never ceased to amaze me with his unpredictability. No matter how long I knew him, I never knew what was going to

come out of his brain. That was definitely true now as I took in the electric blue and neon purple striped bike shorts that left virtually nothing to the imagination and matching rollerblades that he was wearing. I had never known Christopher to rollerblade except for his brief foray into roller disco during its resurgence several years back, and his lack of experience was showing. Both knees were turned in toward each other and his ankles were shaking. This explained why he was gripping the railings and appeared several inches taller than he usually was when I looked at him through the window. I reached out a hand to Christopher and he took it, allowing me to pull him into the kitchen. He glided across the linoleum floor and grasped the back of one of the stools against the wall. “Good morning,” Tessie said. “Hi,” Christopher replied.

“Want to tell me what’s going on here?” I asked, closing the door. “Scavenger hunt,” he said. “Of course, it is.” “Want to tell me why you’re half naked outside in November?” “Rollerblading is a good cardiovascular workout?” “Right.” And has absolutely nothing to do with the others who might be participating in the scavenger hunt. “I’m almost done, but there are a few more things that I need.” “What are they?” “A bobby pin in a color other than brown.”

“Got it,” Tessie said. She reached into her hair and withdrew a lavender pin that she handed over to Christopher. “That’s a start. Now, three paper clips.” “I’ve got that,” I said, reaching into my junk drawer. “Does it matter what color they are?” “Any will do, but I can get bonus points for multiple colors.” “Here’s a red, a blue, and a rainbow. Bonus bonus points.” “We’re on a roll! Alright, next is commonly found kitchen items reminiscent of the seven dwarves.” “What?” Tessie and I asked in unison. He looked down at the list that he had taken out of the waistband of his bike shorts and repeated the list item.

“Um,” I said, looking around. I went to the spice cabinet and grabbed out a bottle. “Ground black pepper? Sneezy?” “That’s the spirit. Keep it going. Who’s got Grumpy?” We scurried around the kitchen for the next several minutes gathering what we could find that made any link to the dwarves. I thought some of them were a little shaky in their interpretation, but I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a couple of weeks and our options were sparse. When I had packed everything into a bag that I hung over Christopher’s arm, I let out a breath. “Alright, what’s next?” I need to collect 247 readily distinguishable kisses. Again, bonus points for multiple colors.” I rushed into my bathroom and grabbed out my makeup box. Digging through, I pulled out

every tube of lipstick I could find. “I knew I could rely on you,” he said. I handed one to Tessie and smeared on a layer of the brightest red that I could find. “Ready?” I asked. Christopher gripped the back of the stool with one hand, opened out the other arm, and squeezed his eyes closed in preparation of the barrage. “Do your worst,” he said. Tessie and I went to work, pressing kiss marks over his shoulders, chest, arms, back, and stomach. We changed lipstick colors every few kisses until he was covered with several hues of lip prints. “Is it enough?” Tessie asked. I started on one shoulder and counted the

kisses. Tessie started on the other and we met in the middle. “You’re short by 7,” I told him. He looked crestfallen, but then an idea popped into my head. “Wait,” I said. I went to the drawer beneath the junk drawer and then back to him. “Open your bag.” I dropped seven chocolate kisses inside. “Two from Christmas, three from Easter, and two from the bank candy bowl. Five different colors in total.” “You are the best scavenger hunter ever,” Christopher said. “Is that all you need?” I asked. “Yep, that’s it. On my way to Red Skelton’s house to show off my collection.” “Isn’t he dead? Like…really dead?” Tessie asked. “Not this one. His parents just had a little bit

of a variety show fetish.” “Ah.” Christopher started scooting toward the door and then turned to look back over his shoulder at me. “Could you give me a little push?” he asked. “I’m pretty OK once I’m rolling, but it’s the getting started that’s a struggle.” I looked at Tessie. “Pour the sauce into a bowl and start dishing up eggs. I’ll be back in just a minute.” I followed Christopher as he carefully stepped his way down the stairs, keeping my hands held out in front of me just in case he slipped, and I needed to catch him. “How did you possibly get all the way up there by yourself?” I asked as I grabbed onto his

arm and scooped him up from certain disaster when one rollerblade rolled ahead of the other. “Cautiously,” he said. “It took me almost half an hour. Really cut into my time.” “Why didn’t you just come through the front door?” “I was already behind your building, so I thought it would be easier. By the time I got to the second landing, I was pretty much already committed.” I nodded. We had gotten to the bottom of the fire escape and he was still alive, which I was going to count as a personal victory, and I eased him along toward the end of the alley behind the house. “Which direction?” I asked. He pointed himself and assumed a position

that I could only guess was his official rollerblading stance, his back bent forward, his chin up, his arms tucked close to his sides, and his ass pointed back. “Ready,” he said. “Got your bag?” He held it up without looking at me. “Yep.” “Alright. Godspeed.” I gave him a shove and watched as all 240 kiss prints glided away down the sidewalk into the distance. As I walked back toward the apartment, my mind was churning, trying to figure out how I was going to start the conversation I needed to have with Tessie. I had originally planned on telling both her and Christopher at the same time, but I had gone into such a panic just trying to come up with the right words that I decided it might be easier to divide and conquer. I’d take care of telling

Tessie first, considering she was much more likely to find some sort of deeply meaningful commentary on the human existence in the whole thing. Then I’d use how that went to reevaluate my approach and tackle telling Christopher later. Maybe. In all honesty, he might not notice. When I got back into the apartment I engaged all of the locks and grabbed glasses of juice to add to all of the food that Tessie had transferred into the living room. There were days when I really loved this little apartment, the only one I had ever lived in since leaving my hometown. Then there were days when living in a postage stamp with no dining room or bathtub was a bit of a drag. This was one of those moments. It was hard to have a sophisticated brunch over which you planned to have a serious, potentially life-changing conversation when you were either sitting on the floor to eat off of the coffee table or balancing your

plate on your lap on the couch. I chose the latter, settling onto the couch and looking down toward where Tessie sat on the floor, her plate on the table in front of her. I offered her a glass of juice and she took a swig before setting it onto the glass top of the table. She took up a massive forkful of scrambled eggs and put it in her mouth. How do I start this conversation? How do I start this conversation? How do I start this conversation? “I’m thinking about becoming a surrogate.” Well, shit. That probably wasn’t the best way. Tessie looked at me with widened eyes and withdrew the fork from her mouth, still laden with eggs. She lowered it to the plate and pushed it a few inches across the table. “You invited me over to your house for an

egg-heavy brunch to announce to me that you are considering being a surrogate?” she asked. I wriggled uncomfortably and put my plate on the table. “Yeah, in retrospect that might have been a bit of a distasteful choice.” Tessie took another sip of juice, the expression on her face telling me that she was trying to process my announcement. I felt that, much like her novel, I should have had a little more of a buildup. Since I didn’t yet have access to the delete button of life, there was no way that I could go back and try to fix how the conversation had gone thus far, so all I could really do was wait and hope that it smoothed itself out. “What the fuck are you thinking, Rue?” Nope. Not looking good for me on the smoothing-out front.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “What do I mean?” she asked. “What do I mean? I mean what the fuck are you thinking? You’re just going to go bear some stranger’s spawn?” “It’s not like it’s someone off the street,” I insisted. “The couple is extensively screened and provide full information to all of the applicants. There are tons of contracts involved and everything. It’s not as shady as you’re making it out to be.” “I’m not making it out to be shady. I’m making it out to be weird as hell. You’re young, you’ve never had a child of your own, but you want to go through pregnancy for somebody else. What good reason could you possibly have to do that?” “Grammyma’s house,” I said.

“What?” Tessie said, the horror and anger falling out of her voice. “What do you mean?” “Grammyma’s house,” I said again. “The payments aren’t up to date and if I don’t catch them up soon, they’ll foreclose.” “When did you find this out?” she asked. Tears were forming in the corners of my eyes, but I didn’t want to acknowledge them. I tried to shake my head to convince them to go away, but this only seemed to encourage them, and they filled my eyes faster. “When I went down there to finish settling up Daddy’s estate. I thought that everything was fine, you know?” I looked at Tessie and tried to offer a smile, but could only manage a weak trembling of my bottom lip. “I thought that he was taking care of the house and making sure that everything was fine. I thought that he was doing everything that he promised her that he was going

to do.” I was starting to feel angry, and I couldn’t let myself do that. I couldn’t let myself feel angry at him. His death was still so recent, and it still cut deeply into my heart every time that I thought about him. No matter how much it hurt, I didn’t want to start covering up those feelings with anger or blame. I knew that the longer I did that, the more those feelings would overshadow the wonderful memories I had of him, and I couldn’t let that happen. “What happened?” Tessie asked. “It’s really my fault,” I said. “It really is. I shouldn’t have put everything off like I did.” “It was just too hard for you.” I nodded, wiping at my eyes. “But I should have done it. It was my responsibility. I don’t know why I would think that

he paid off that loan. When I got down there the lawyer told me that the payments were behind. I was able to scrounge up enough to pay a couple of months, but I didn’t have much. That’s not all, though. The house itself was in pretty bad condition. The grounds were grown up. The vegetable garden was completely gone. The house itself needs a ton of work. And I’m the only one who can do it.” “Rue, you hadn’t been back there in years.” “I know.” “The only times you even saw your dad was when he came here or when he was in the hospital.” “I know,” I said, feeling guilt start to creep up inside of me as she spoke. “You always said that when you were younger, the only thing you could ever think about

was how you were going to get out of there and start your life in the city. That once you got out of the holler, you weren’t ever going back.” “Tessie,” I said sharply to stop her, then softened my tone. “I know.” She turned to me, reaching up to rest one hand on mine. “Then why are you so worried about saving it?” she asked. “Grammyma’s been gone for a decade. Your daddy’s gone now, too. Don’t you think that it’s time to just go ahead and let it go?” I shook my head. The holler that she was talking about was Whiskey Hollow, the tiny valley village where I was born and raised, and then got out of as soon as I got accepted into college. “No,” I said, struggling to regain control over my voice. “No, Tessie. I can’t. That place is all I have left. I don’t have siblings. I don’t even

remember my mama. All I had was Grammyma and Daddy. That’s it. As much as I talk about the bad things about it, there really are wonderful things about it. And that house…I grew up in that house. It was my home. It smelled like the cookies that my grandmother made for me and that I was never able to recreate because she put the recipe aside for safekeeping and we never found it before she died. It was where my Daddy let me try to paint my own room and never even made fun of me when I tried to paint it three different colors and add swirls and it essentially ended up brown. It might not seem like much, but the reality is that it’s everything, and I’m the only one left who can save it.” “How are you going to do it?” Tessie asked. I drew in a breath. “I’m moving back there.” “What?” Tessie asked. “You’re leaving?”

She sounded crestfallen and I couldn’t even look at her or I would start crying again. “I have to,” I said. “I can’t afford the payments on the house and this apartment, and besides there’s so much work that I need to do there to get the house and the land back in shape. I can’t be in both places at once.” “I wish that you would have told us this. We could have helped you. I don’t make a ton, but between me and Christopher I’m sure we would have been able to get together enough that you wouldn’t have to rent out your womb.” I smiled. “I know,” I said. “And I love you both for that. I know that you would have helped me, but that’s why I didn’t tell you. I need to be able to do this for myself. I owe it to Daddy and Grammyma. They were both able to get through so much without having to lean on other people. It wasn’t

until close to the end that Daddy started to really struggle and let things slide. I want to make him proud of me.” “He is proud of you,” Tessie insisted. “You don’t have to go through this alone. The only reason that they didn’t lean on other people is because they didn’t have any one to lean on. You do. You have me, and you have Christopher. We love you and we want to be here for you.” I was suddenly feeling like I was part of some sort of intervention. “I can’t ask you two to stop your lives just to help me out of this,” I said. “Besides, it’s something good that I can do for someone else. You are always doing good for the world. You do the food drive. The pet food drive. Meals on Wheels. Wheels for Meals, that car donation initiative. If it has to do with food and driving, you’re right on top of it.”

“Sometimes food and driving,” Tessie pointed out. “Don’t forget my Christmas program from two years ago.” “Oh, yes. Ho-Ho-Homeless.” “It might have gotten me banned from the development and marketing of any new programs, but they really did enjoy the hot meals and egg nog while they rode around looking at the Christmas lights.” “They did,” I agreed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You do all of these amazing things for people, and I really don’t do anything. I might not be helping a lot of people, but if they choose me, I’ll get to make a really big difference in the lives of this one couple at least.” “So, you’re not pregnant yet?” Tessie asked. I gave her a quizzical look. “No, Tessie. That’s why I said that I was

thinking about becoming a surrogate, not that I was one already. Don’t you think that that’s something I would mention to you before I went through with it?” “I don’t know,” Tessie said, her voice rising slightly as she tried to defend herself. “You sound so convinced, I thought that maybe you got all swept up in it and just went ahead with it.” “I don’t think that this is like a drive-thru situation. They don’t order the baby and get it baking on the same day. It takes time. I still have to go through interviews and briefings and meet with the couple and go to the doctor. There’s a lot that has to happen before they even choose me, if they’re going to choose me.” “Have you thought about how this is going to impact the rest of your life? Forever, you’re going to be someone’s mother.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I won’t be

the baby’s mother. I’m just a vessel. It’s like the TRex who put her eggs in the nest with the eggs of another dinosaur to be taken care of until they’re born.” Tessie stared at me blankly for a few seconds, then blinked. “Yeah,” she said. “And then the T-Rex babies were born and ate all of the other dinosaur’s babies.” “Well, I don’t have any babies, so I don’t think that the one that I’ll carry for the other couple will be able to eat any of them.” “But will you always think of that pregnancy? If you get pregnant with your own children, will it not be as special because you will have already been pregnant? You will have already gone through all of those things. You will have already felt a baby kick inside of you and seen the sonograms and gone through labor and delivery.”

“I will have,” I conceded, “but there’s a major difference.” “What’s the difference?” “Those babies will be mine. I’ll find out that I’m pregnant with my own child. I’ll feel my own baby kick inside of me and see my own baby on the sonogram and go through labor and delivery to bring my own baby into the world. There’s nothing about this experience that will make having my own babies one day any less special or any less important.” “And what if they don’t choose you?” She was putting voice to a concern that was strong inside of me, but that I didn’t want to admit to. “Then I’ll figure it out then,” I said. “The office gave me a leave of absence. They don’t realize that it’s going to be a permanent absence,

but it gives me a few months of partial income. If the couple chooses me, part of the agreement is that they’ll pay my living expenses in addition to the surrogacy fee. I’ll put my paychecks into savings to carry me through later. If they don’t choose me, at least I’ll have that to live on while I figure out my next move.” “You’ve really thought this through,” Tessie said, sounding completely sad now rather than angry. “I have,” I told her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” “I’ll miss you so much,” she said. “I’ll miss you, too. But it’s time to go home.”

Chapter Two

Rue

I am a terrible, horrible liar. I had sat right there, looked directly into the eyes of my best friend, and just lied a blue-fuckingstreak. That wasn’t really the intention. I was going to tell her the real story. I actually thought that she was going to laugh about it. But when I told her and saw the look on Tessie’s face, I knew that the real story just wasn’t going to cut it. That’s because the truth was I hadn’t actually planned this whole surrogacy thing at all. I presented it to Tessie as if it was something that I thought through extensively and decided upon based on all of that evaluation, but that wasn’t what happened at all. Having a contract baby wasn’t exactly on my

bucket list. It wasn’t climb a mountain, jump out of a plane, write an epic rap battle retelling of the Iliad and the Odyssey, act as a human petri dish to carry and bear the offspring of a complete stranger. It all started because I needed to go to the dentist. That was it. I didn’t like my dentist. That was the issue that brought all this about. Just an innocent situation of not liking the dentist that I had and wanting to go in for a little bit of a de-gunk, shine, and polish, and that was what I had every intention of doing that day. I had been complaining about my dentist for months, bemoaning his massive hands and hairy wrists and bad breath. What kind of dentist roams around his office with bad breath? That is simply poor professional form. So, I had been whining about my upcoming checkup and finally Christopher decided that he couldn’t take it anymore. He told me that if I would stop fussing, I could borrow his dentist for an appointment.

This was a momentous moment. Christopher held the identity of his dentist close to his chest in the same way that he protected the secret of his own homemade ranch dressing that somehow reached beyond the deep-seated hatred that I had always held for ranch dressing and burrowed right into my heart. We always heard him speak of this mythically magnificent dentist as he led up to an appointment and then after he emerged all pearly and clean. He anticipated these appointments with great reverence and a level of excitement that bordered on frightening sometimes. According to him, though, this devotion was completely warranted. This dentist was kind and gentle, always wore appropriately sized gloves over his appropriately sized hands, had only a moderate amount of body hair that in no way hindered his ability to perform dentistry, and his breath was always fresh. Sparkly, minty freshness was something that I was very much looking forward to

as I tried to follow the somewhat cryptic directions for how to get to the office. Christopher wouldn’t even let me call the office to make my own appointment. Instead, he called, made the appointment, and then waited until the morning of my appointment to send me a PDF of his instructions for how to get there. If I hadn’t known Christopher for as long as I had and didn’t have extensive knowledge of his personality and his character, I might have been slightly concerned that all of this pomp and circumstance was actually designed to lead me to certain doom. As it was, I was just convinced that he had way too much time on his hands and needed something more to occupy his brilliant, albeit scattered, mind. That brilliant mind, however, sent me wandering through the city and dipping into areas that I didn’t love being seen in. I was coming out of one of those areas at a fairly fast clip when I must

have missed a turn because I soon found myself standing in front of a massive office building that didn’t look like it was included in the directions. I re-read them and consulted the map that was missing small sections like a jigsaw puzzle that didn’t have all of the pieces. Dammit, Christopher. Why can’t you just be a normal person and send me a map link on my phone? I looked at the building again and then back at the map and then at the building again. I suppose it was possible that this was the large building in the corner of the map. The sketched one appeared shorter and slightly more square, but Christopher wasn’t known for his tremendous artistic skill, so I was more and more convinced that I had found the right place. After all, this was the fanciest building that I had come across as of yet, and if there was anything that he would look for in a dental practice

before he even met the dentist would be the fanciness of the building. Tucking all of the materials into my purse, I stepped inside the building. There was a decided nip in the autumn air that I had been wandering through for the better part of the morning and the rush of warm air I felt when I got inside was a welcome relief. I was still in the phase that I reached at this point of the season every year when I was still trying to get accustomed to the idea of truly cold weather. Every summer I would bitch ceaselessly about the heat, taking on my very best delicate magnolia blossom persona as though I had never been exposed to such temperatures, even though I knew and those closest to me knew damn well that I had barely actually gone inside during the summers of my childhood. Then the fall weather would come and bring a break in the steaminess. I would hope for cooler and cooler temperatures, wanting to wear a sweater by

Halloween, which rarely actually happened. The cold always seemed to hit all at once. It snuck up on me while I was scouring the Halloween clearance racks and talking Tessie down from the teetering pile of volunteer positions she accepted during the holidays. The first couple of weeks of cold weather usually witnessed a curious reversal in me. The same person who would put on a gaudy glow-inthe-dark sweatshirt in October even if the temperatures were still creeping up far too high just because I felt like it was appropriate, would completely flip and start trying to wear tank tops on days that were clearly so chilly my nipples stood at attention from the time I got out of bed until I curled desperately back in at night. I was just getting over that phase now, donning weatherappropriate clothing and starting to get that warm and fuzzy Thanksgiving feeling in my belly, when I stepped through the reflective glass doors into the

lobby of the huge building and looked around, hoping for a massive plastic tooth or something that would direct me to the dentist office. I hadn’t seen any such indication and was starting back across the lobby ready to call Christopher and shout things that would attest to my holler raising until he told me where the damn dentist was or came and got me to deliver me for my appointment when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I took a few more steps and heard it again, louder this time. It was that loud clearing that meant that the person was either trying very hard to get your attention while being discreet or dying. I turned slowly and saw a wiry man in a pinstripe suit standing a few feet away. He clutched a clipboard like it held all of the secrets of life and peered at me down a thin nose through tiny round spectacles. “Were you sent here?” he asked.

I didn’t know if it was meant as an actual question or in an effort to make me admit to some kind of wrongdoing. I suddenly felt like I was back in middle school being brought up in front of the principal for the note that I passed to Mary Sue Griswold during math. Are you supposed to be passing notes in class? Do you really think it’s nice to write things like that about your teacher? While my mind was churning through all the reasons this man might think that I had been mysteriously sent to the building, it suddenly occurred to me that I was. I withdrew the map and instructions that Christopher had sent me out of my purse and tried to hand it to him. “Yes,” I said. “I’m so glad that I finally got here. I didn’t think that I was going to make it.”

The man made a sound of acknowledgement in his throat, but I saw that his eyes were scanning up and down my body. There was a distinct lack of sex in that glare. Instead, it was sharp with disappointment and scrutiny as he took in my baggy grey sweat suit, pink high tops, and hair knotted onto my head. Oh, yes. This was definitely who Christopher sent me to see. Judgement was his favorite accompaniment to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and coffee. “I’m sorry,” I said, brushing something imaginary off of my shirt in an effort to look more presentable. “Is there a dress code? He didn’t tell me that I needed to wear anything specific.” The man shook his head, though the expression on his face suggested to me that it was physically and psychologically painful for him to admit it.

“No,” he said dryly. “No dress code. Though I would think that someone in your position might seek to present herself a tad bit more elegantly.” Elegant? For a dentist? “I’m sorry,” I said again, even though I was starting to really dislike this man and the compulsion I had to apologize for and defend myself. “I just wanted to be comfortable.” He nodded slowly as if that had been the most ridiculous and incomprehensible thing that he had ever heard. “Comfortable,” he repeated. “Lovely. Anyway, you may follow me. Several others are already waiting.” He took a breath. “We wouldn’t want you to miss your turn.” I wasn’t aware that there was a dentist Hunger Games going on. I followed the as-yet nameless man back

through the lobby and beyond two sets of glass doors before he directed me into a waiting room. Several other women were sitting, the customary Empty Chairs of Derision between them telling me that none of these women came together for an oral health girl’s day. I looked around and noticed that not only were there several women, but there were only women, and those women there were oddly similar. We were all roughly the same age, height, and weight, though I was a little rougher from that standpoint than some of the others. Dammit, Christopher. You didn’t tell me that your dentist did profiling. Putting on an expression that I hoped would tell the women around me that I was fully confident in myself even though I looked like I had just tumbled out of bed, I sat down in the nearest chair and reached for the nearest magazine. That’s when things took a turn.

I had been sitting in the waiting room for only a few minutes when a nurse came around handing registration forms to everyone. I started filling out the questions without reading the entire form. Name…Normal Birthdate…Yep Height…OK Weight…Hmmmm Last Menstrual Period…What? Why would a dentist need to know that? Have you ever been pregnant? Do you have a history of miscarriage? Does your family have a history of early labor or other birth complications? Does your family have a history of any

genetic diseases? What the hell kind of dentist is this?

At this point I could have just gotten up and walked out of the waiting room. Had someone else told me that they were in this situation I would have questioned their intellect for not getting up and leaving right then and dealing with Hairy Wrists. Yet something kept me sitting in that chair. Something made me fill out the invasive questions and turn in the form. A few minutes after we had all passed in our forms like a well-behaved little class turning in our pop quiz, the nurse started showing up at the door on the far side of the waiting room. She would call a name in a solemn monotone, then disappear into the back with one of the women in tow. Several minutes would pass, then another name would be called. An hour and five names had passed by the

time that she called me. I gave a totally unwarranted smug look to the women still waiting and swept through the door. The nurse directed me to a small room that looked like a doctor’s examination room and I noticed the distinct lack of a dentist chair. Nevertheless, I sat up on the crinkly white paper and waited. Another nurse came in and took my vitals, scribbling the results on a piece of paper, and then left without saying anything. The first returned a moment later and escorted me out of the examination room and into what looked like an office. Well, this is efficient. I sat in one of the dark wood chairs in front of a heavy desk and waited. And waited. Then waited a little bit more. I was starting to feel like they had forgotten about me when the door finally opened and the man who had found me in the lobby came in. He looked delighted to see me as he

sat down in the chair across the desk and proceeded to stare at me for several long, increasingly awkward seconds. Finally, he glanced over the papers he had placed in front of him that I assumed were my registration form and the information that the nurse had gathered, and then looked back up at me. “So, tell me. Why do you want to be a surrogate?”

Chapter Three

Richard

The look on the woman’s face was enough to catch my attention and make me want to hear what she had to say. The look of her clothing was enough to make Flora not need to see or hear a single other thing and be ready to walk out of the office. “Honestly, Richie, is there anything that that woman could say that would make her wretched appearance any more forgivable?” I tried not to cringe. I hated when she called me ‘Richie’. I really didn’t know when she had decided that that was the term of endearment that she was going to bestow on me. No one else in my life, including my parents and my grandparents, had ever called me Richie and I had always detested the

sound of it when it was applied to anyone else, beseeching anyone who I met not to shorten my name. Yet…there it was. Richie. The only thing that made the sound of the name less disagreeable was that it was tucked right there in the middle of another of Flora’s strings of arrogance. I don’t remember when she picked it up, but somewhere between finishing school and graduating from the university she started speaking in a stilted, unevenly formal way that made her sound like she was trying to sound like a casual British person and came off as her sounding like a horribly pretentious American. She was already standing, slipping her arm into the sleeve of her jacket, but I hadn’t gotten up from the sofa where I had been sitting, watching the hidden camera stream of the string of prospective applicants come into the office next

door. These women had no idea that we were watching them. That was the intention. Choosing an applicant to carry our child was the most important decision that Flora and I would ever make, and it was essential that we made the right decision. I wanted to know everything that I possibly could about the woman who would bring my dream of being a father into a reality, and that wasn’t something that I could achieve just having an interview or two. I was trusting Ellery to handle this first stage of the screening process and sitting in the next room over to watch as he went over the women’s initial medical examination and information sheets with them. This wasn’t really in an effort to learn about their medical health or to even find out much about their history. Instead it was a chance for me to start evaluating their character and personalities in a way that was purely compulsive. Flora hated the idea. She much preferred the

thought of just sending the women to the doctor, weeding out the ones who weren’t healthy enough or who had undesirable genetics, then hold interviews and choose the most qualified candidate from there. I didn’t see that as a viable way to go through the process. Of course, her health was going to be an extremely important element of choosing the right woman, but beyond that, the characteristics that were going to make her the right one was something that I didn’t think could be deciphered just by sitting across the desk from her and asking a series of questions. I had spent enough time in business to know that the person you met when you did an interview was very rarely the actual person that you were interviewing. People put on a mask when they sat down to interview. They presented themselves in the way that they thought you wanted them to and spewed out carefully prepared, rehearsed answers to virtually anything that you could ask them in an

effort to sound exactly like the person you’re looking for. Even if inside, they are completely on the other end of the spectrum. I would never forget walking down the hall in one of my office buildings and hearing a voice coming from the one of the conference rooms that was supposed to be empty. When I peeked in I found a girl who was dressed like she was fifty and looked like she was fifteen pacing around the table, deeply engrossed in the speech that she planned to give when she came into the interview we had planned for ten minutes later. She was preparing herself for all of the spontaneous and charming answers she was going to give, right down to a few perfectly timed Freudian slips and girlish giggles. I slipped out of the conference room before she saw me and was fully prepared for her when she got into the office for our interview. As soon as she perched herself on the edge of the seat, pressing her breasts forward toward me and

crossing her legs so that just enough of her skirt lifted up to make it seem incidental when I knew very well it wasn’t because I had already seen it three times that morning, I started asking her questions. “What is your favorite planet and why?” “If you were an ice cream sundae topping, which would you be?” “How many roller coasters have you ridden in your life and did you keep your hands up the entire time?” “Don’t you know that that’s dangerous?” “A cat and three dogs walk down an alley and see a bowl of food. What color collar was the animal that got the food wearing?” After watching her squirm through a few minutes of this, I dismissed her, returning her resume and application to her before she walked

out of the office. I hadn’t had any intention of giving her a real interview. Anyone who snuck into a conference room that she wasn’t supposed to be in and spent that much time polishing herself up for what was supposed to be an honest conversation wasn’t someone who I wanted working for me. I hoped that the barrage of questions and my deadpan reactions to whatever nonsensical answers she could spin as I asked them were enough to convince her to be a little more authentic next time she was meeting someone. If she was to get anything out of this interview, I wanted it to be that I was hiring an employee, not a Barbie. I didn’t want to look at her thighs and then pull a string and listen to her scripted spiel. That experience had completely changed the way I saw every other hiring process that I encountered, and as cold and impersonal as it sounded, that was what this was. I was hiring a woman to do something that I couldn’t do on my

own and that Flora had learned only months ago that she couldn’t, either. It was a job like any other that I hired for, but with responsibilities far more pressing and valuable than anything that had ever happened in any of my businesses. Choosing the wrong candidate wasn’t just an inconvenience or a frustration and amending that mistake wasn’t so simple as firing the person and starting the process over again. If we went through with this and found a few months down the line that the woman we chose was awful in some way, there was really nothing that we could do about it. We had to be sure that we chose a woman we would be able to not only entrust with our child in its most delicate form for the months before it was born, but also who we would be able to tolerate throughout those months as well. “Richie, what are you doing?” Flora whined from the doorway.

That was something that she was exceptional at, I had become more and more aware of in the months since we started talking about having a baby. Whining. I drew in a breath, reminded myself for what felt like the hundredth time that day that this was the woman I was supposed to be sharing my life with, and smiled at her. “Darling, I really want to see this.” “Why?” “I’m not sure.” That was completely true. There was something about this woman that was different than all of the other woman who had gone through the interview process already, and it went beyond just the clothing that she was wearing, not that that hadn’t gotten my attention as well. The goal of this phase of the screening was to let me see how the women conducted themselves when talking to someone who wasn’t technically the person who

was hiring them, and then how they behaved when they were alone and didn’t know that anyone was watching them. I knew in the back of my mind that there was a bit of a shady element to how I was doing this, but the stakes were too high for me to take any chances. When this woman walked into the office and Ellery asked her why she was considering being a surrogate she looked totally taken aback. She stared at my assistant with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, absolutely still and silent for a few seconds. It was an unexpected reaction, but it was also something that I had been looking for in every other woman who had come into the room… authentic. Ellery’s eyes widened to match hers and the change in his expression seemed to snap the woman…what was her name...out of her shock. “Babies,” she suddenly said. “I’d do it for the baby.”

I covered my mouth to muffle the laugh that was bubbling up. “Well, yes,” Ellery said. “That would be why anyone would be a surrogate. It’s the entire purpose of the process. Beyond the actual carrying and birthing of the child, why would you consider carrying my clients’ child?” The woman quieted again, but this time she didn’t seem startled. Instead, the expression on her face seemed more like she was looking into her mind, seeing something that was difficult for her and that she was trying to put into words that the stranger across the desk would understand. Finally, she let out a sigh and met his eyes. “My father died recently and there are things that I need to take care of,” she answered confidently. “So, it is a financial motive?” Ellery asked.

I had heard him ask the same question to two other women, both of whom had been completely tripped up by it and stumbled through fairly meaningless justifications. This woman, though, seemed unfazed. She kept her eyes strongly trained on Ellery, unflinching, not intimidated by him. “Absolutely,” she said. “This is a business transaction, is it not? There is a fee to be paid?” “Well, yes,” Ellery said. It was his turn to seem put on the spot now and I found a bit of strange enjoyment seeing this usually unflappable man flustered. “If this was a charitable act that a woman was doing purely out of the good of her heart, that wouldn’t be the case. As it is, this is a service that is to be fulfilled in exchange for money. That in of itself establishes a financial motive. Any woman who tries to say that there isn’t one is lying at worst and flattering herself at best.”

She’s the one. I wanted to just clear the building of the rest of the candidates and tell this woman that she had the position, but I knew that I couldn’t. There were more steps to be taken, and as much as I thought of this phase as being one of compulsion, I couldn’t let that control me entirely. I meant to use those gut feelings to trim down the field of applicants, so I could then focus on them each more intently. As if that thought had beckoned him, Ellery made some excuse and got up from the desk, hurrying out of the office and closing the door behind him. A second later he appeared at the door to the office where I was. His face was high with color and he looked somehow ruffled, like a little angry bird. Flora was still standing by the door, her arms crossed over her chest and her hip cocked now, and they exchanged glances as if they were wordlessly expressing the same thought. He took

several long strides across the office toward me. “Can you believe her?” He asked. “No,” I admitted. “I can’t.” “Then I will just go in there and tell her that she’s dismissed, and we aren’t interested.” “’We?” I asked. “I didn’t know that you were going to be involved in the gestation of my child, Ellery.” The color on his cheeks deepened and he squeezed his lips together to try to hold back whatever he was going to say. “Did you see her?” he asked. “Of course, I did.” “Then surely you see that she is totally unsuitable.” “I told him the same thing,” Flora steamed,

“but he won’t listen to me.” “All I can see is that she didn’t put a lot of thought into her clothes today,” I said. “And if she showed up for your next agent position looking like that, you wouldn’t turn her away instantly?” Flora asked. I knew she was right. If someone came into one of my offices in a sweat suit with her hair looking like a cinnamon bun on her head, I wouldn’t even think of her twice. Something about this woman, though. She was different. That word again. Different. “Maybe we should appreciate the fact that she wants to be comfortable with us,” I said. “This is a very intimate relationship we’re going to be in together, and being comfortable with each other is going to be important.” “A very intimate relationship?” Flora asked.

“What do you mean by that?” I looked at her. “She is going to be carrying our child inside of her and giving birth to it. I can’t really think of many things that are much more intimate than that.” Without worrying about their reaction, I turned my attention to the computer screen to see how the woman there was handling her sudden isolation. “What’s her name?” I asked, not taking my eyes from her. “Rue,” Ellery told me. I nodded. In the office next door Rue was still sitting in the chair where Ellery had left her, staring at the chair that he had vacated almost as though there

was still someone there. She didn’t move for several seconds, and then suddenly flung herself forward, her head dropping down between her knees and her arms dangling down by her sides, so her hands grazed the floor. Once in this position, she let out a long breath. As she hung there, I heard her muttering to herself. I wished that I could hear what she was saying, but the thick layers of grey cotton now blocking her mouth muffled the words. “Invite her back,” I said to Ellery. He looked at me with wide eyes. “Are you serious?” “Very,” I said. “Invite her back for another interview next week.” I closed the computer on the image of Rue still folded over in the chair and stood up. I tucked the computer into my briefcase and crossed the office to the door where I grabbed my jacked from

the coatrack and slipped into it. “Where are you going?” Ellery asked. “Lunch,” I said. “I have some very important appointments later this afternoon, but I will be taking the next couple of hours away from the office. Please continue with the screening and take notes if you’d like.” “You aren’t going to stay to watch the others?” Ellery asked. “No,” I said, not feeling the need to justify myself any further. I opened the door and allowed Flora to walk ahead of me out of the office. Ellery followed, and I looked back over my shoulder to watch as he went back into the office, wondering what Rue’s reaction would be when he asked her to come back for another interview.

Half an hour later Flora and I were sitting at our usual table at our favorite lunch restaurant. She sipped white wine with delicate discrimination as if it wasn’t the exact same wine she ordered every time we came. I watched her, suddenly wondering if she had, ever in her life, worn a sweat suit. It was a strange thought and I shook my head to get it out, instead turning my attention to the menu in front of me. “What’s looking good to you this afternoon, Darling?” I asked. “I know what looked good to you,” she retorted. I looked up from the menu and narrowed my eyes at her. “What is that supposed to mean?” “I saw the way that you were looking at that woman,” she said, her icy eyes glaring at me from

across the table. “I wasn’t looking at her in any way,” I said. Was I? “Oh please, Richie. I know that look. Remember, I used to be the one who was on the receiving end of those looks.” I couldn’t honestly believe that I would ever have looked at Flora in any way that I would look at Rue. They were just too different. Different. I reached across the table and took her hand, pulling it close enough to lean over and kiss it. “Listen to me. I wasn’t looking at her in any other way than as the potential carrier of our child. That’s it.” “I still don’t understand why you didn’t just tell her to leave,” she said.

“I can’t really explain it,” I said. “But you can trust me when I tell you that I am thinking of nothing but finding the absolute perfect woman. Just a few more interviews and meetings and we will have that woman, and with any luck in a month or two we will have a baby on the way.” “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked. “I mean, really sure?” “What do you mean?” I asked. Flora reached across the table with her other hand and took mine in both of hers. “I just want to make sure that you are absolutely sure that you want to go through with this. It’s a really big decision.” “I know that,” I said. “We’ve talked about this. I thought you wanted to be a mother.” “I do,” Flora said, nodding. “Of course, I do. I want nothing more than to raise a baby with you,

it’s just that…” “That what?” “When we found out that I can’t have children, I just thought that having a baby was off the table, at least for right now.” “I know,” I said, squeezing her hands comfortingly. “I know that was so hard for you, but then we talked about surrogacy. We can still have our baby. It’s not the same thing as you being able to be pregnant and carry our child and deliver him or her, I know, but it will still be such a beautiful experience and we will be able to raise our wonderful little family together.” She gave the hint of a smile and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m just having more trouble with this than I thought that I would. I’m really not sure about that woman. Please tell me that you’ll keep looking.”

“Of course,” I said. “I told Ellery to keep interviewing the other women and there are a few from before Rue that I asked him to invite back for the second round of interviews. We’ll narrow those down further with another talk with Ellery, and then you and I will get a chance to meet the final few to choose the one who is really right for us. I promise everything is going to work out perfectly.” “Alright,” she said, looking slightly happier now. “Alright.” I picked up the menu and started reading the specials, my minds already drifting into the future when I would finally be able to hold my baby in my arms. It was something that I had wanted for so long, and now that it was so close to happening, it was all I could think about. Almost all.

Chapter Four

Rue

Dear Baby, You aren’t there yet. I honestly don’t know if you are ever going to be, but just in case your parents do choose me, I wanted to have a chance to tell you a little about myself and let you know why I’m doing this. It seems so strange to even talk about “your parents” when I might be the one who grows you inside of me. I know that that doesn’t make me your mother. It doesn’t mean anything except that I happen to have a body that does something that’s useful. It sounds so cold to put it that way, but that’s the way that I have to see it. Do you understand? It’s what I have to do to make sure that I can go through with this.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to get a chance to really meet you. I know that we’ll be pretty well acquainted since we’ll get to share the same body for 40 weeks, give or take a couple of weeks. Don’t take too little, though, OK? You need to stay right in there and make sure that you are fully done before you come out. The world is a pretty exciting place and I’m sure that you will have an amazing life, but it’s not worth rushing. I wouldn’t want your mama and papa to have to put you in baby layaway because you get here early. I might need to remember not to call it that if that does happen. NICU just sounds awful to me. Saying that just sounds like you are admitting that there’s something wrong with the baby and it needs to be taken care of, that it might not make it through. Baby layaway, though, that’s just temporary. That’s just like picking out a shirt that you really want for the next season, but it’s not time to wear it yet so you put it in layaway until

the weather changes and then you go get it out. They put a baby in the baby layaway until it’s ready to go ahead with life and then their parents can get them out. I’m going to be meeting with your mama and papa tomorrow to talk to them more about the possibility of me carrying you for them. I just realized that I’ve been calling them “mama and papa” the way that I called my parents when I was growing up. Well, what I called my father. My mama has been gone since I was very, very little. I don’t remember her. I hate to admit that. All I ever heard about her was that she was so beautiful and kind, and that she loved me more than anything in the world. When I turned 18 Papa gave me a scrapbook that my mama had started for me even before I was born. It was full of pictures and doodles and notes. She even included the hospital bracelet from when I was born and a letter that she wrote to me while she was in labor. She had meant

to keep building on it as I grew up so that by the time I was grown I would have a chronicle of my childhood. Looking at all of the empty pages in it always made me so sad when I was younger. I knew that I had done things and lived days that should have filled those pages. I just didn’t have Mama around to record them for me. It was almost like they weren’t as real, like they didn’t happen as much because she wasn’t there to see them. Does that make sense? On the front of the book she had written “I love you more than the moon and the sun and all the stars in space.” I know that your mama is going to just love you so much. I wonder what you’ll call her. Maybe Mommy. Maybe you’ll have a Mommy and Daddy rather than a Mama and Papa. You sure are going to be raised differently than I was. No one who grew up in Whiskey Hollow would be able to afford the surrogacy fee that they are offering. That’s wonderful for you, though, Baby. At least I hope it

is. I never want you to be embarrassed or feel bad about the way that you came to be. It might not be the same way that other people are born, but it doesn’t mean that you are any less important or any less valuable. In fact, you are so very important, so very treasured, and so very loved, already, even now before you even exist, that your parents are willing to go through an unbelievable amount just to give them a chance that they will get to have you. I hope that they make you feel as special as you already are. I also never want you to blame your mama or feel like she did something wrong for this having to be the way that you came to be. Sometimes the people who want children the most are the ones who have the hardest time actually having them. It’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything wrong and I know that if she had the

choice, this wouldn’t be what she would do. I’m sure that if she had the choice, she would be the one who got to hold you inside of her and protect you until you were ready to be born. But she is still your mother. She is just as much your mother as if she did carry you and deliver you herself. Please never forget that. If you get a chance, remember to thank her. She put aside a lot of pride and a lot of self-doubt to bring you into this world, and I’m sure that she went through a lot of people telling her that she was doing the wrong thing. Even if they acted like they were supporting her and would never actually say that they thought that she was doing something that she shouldn’t, she would be able to feel with her heart what they actually thought of her. People have a way of presenting themselves one way when they are really something different underneath. But she went through all of that, she endured all of that, for you. As I said, I don’t know if we’ll ever get a

chance to really meet. I’ll see you the moment that you are born, of course. I’ll even get to hear your voice. But I don’t know if they will ever let me hold you. I don’t know if I’d want to. Those are moments that you should be spending with them, not with me. I’ll have the chance to cradle you, in a different way, for the first months of your existence and that’s something that I’ll always remember. I’ll be the only person who will have ever gotten to connect with you like that, and I won’t forget how significant that is. To be honest, I can’t really think of any situation when they would want for you to meet me when you are older, unless it is only because they want you to know the woman who made it possible for you to be born. That sounds so arrogant when I write it out, like I’m doing something that’s all that big of a deal and not what countless other women do every day. If we did get a chance to spend any time together when you were old enough to understand

who I am, I would want to tell you that what I told the man interviewing me last week was totally true. I really am considering doing this for you. That might not have been the case initially, when he surprised me with the whole thing, but after a few minutes of thinking about it, I realized that as crazy as it sounded, I really did want to be a part of making you a reality. It’s almost like I can feel you waiting, like even though you don’t exist yet, I know that you’re somewhere, just hanging out and getting ready for when it’s time for you to come, and that I might be the one who is supposed to make sure that happens. Does that sound crazy? What I told Tessie is totally true, too. You’ll probably never have a reason to meet her, but she’s one of the two people who mean the most to me. She’s…well, she’s really hard to explain, we’ll just leave it at that. When I told her that I was thinking about helping your parents have you, her reaction wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. I thought

that she would be supportive and think that it was a wonderful thing to do, considering all of the good work in the world that she does. But I suppose when she is doing a good deed for someone it doesn’t involve sacrificing her body for almost a year. I needed to tell her more than just that I wanted to do something good for the world. I needed to explain to her about Grammyma’s house. You’ll never get to meet my Grammyma. I don’t know, maybe you already have. She’s up there in Heaven where I’m imagining you floating around in some celestial waiting area for a nurse to come call your name and tell you it’s time. Your name. It’s funny, I didn’t even think about the fact that you wouldn’t have one of those when you came. That’ll be up to your parents to decide. It’s like I think that you’re going to show up with a little manual and a name tag, so I know who you are and which parents to give you to when you’re born. Anyway, Grammyma died about ten years

back. She was the most amazing woman. Her eyes never looked old, even at the very end. As I got to be an adult, she shriveled up like a little raisin, but her eyes didn’t change. They always sparkled and looked young and full of life. That sparkle was the same one that was in my Daddy’s eyes. His faded a little, though. He struggled a lot in the last couple of years of his life. I know that he was sick, but I felt like it was something more than that. It was almost like he had been missing my mama for so long that his heart and body just couldn’t take it anymore. Like he had been holding on for me while I was growing up because he wanted to make sure that I had at least one of my parents, and then when he saw that I had gotten there, I was grown, all of the stress and sadness of not having Mama just took over. I wish that it had been easier for him. I wish that I had gone home to see him rather than just bringing him to my apartment. If I had, I would have found out that he

had never paid off the loan that he had to take out on Grammyma’s house, the house I grew up in with the two of them, when I was a teenager and his business went bad. I would have found out that he hadn’t been taking care of the house in the years since I had been there and that it was starting to fall apart. I know it’s just a house, but some day you’ll understand what it is to have a home that is the one place in the whole world, no matter what other types of memories you associate with the place around it, where you feel loved and protected and safe, and as though anyone who you wanted to be was the person who belonged there. At least I hope you do. Sometimes I think that I didn’t really live up to what Daddy really would have wanted of me. Well, I know for certain I didn’t because I left Whiskey Hollow and I’m not married. That doesn’t matter, though, he would have always welcomed me right back home, right back into the kitchen

that smelled like cookies and the living room that always sounded like sports or old TV shows. That’s why I have to save it. It’s my responsibility now. I’m all that’s left and I’m the only one who can make sure that my family’s legacy doesn’t disappear from the Hollow completely. I’m moving back there in just a few weeks. I have to move out of my apartment by the first of the year, but I might go back before that. Christmas in Whiskey Hollow is something. I don’t really know what, exactly, but it’s something. By then, I should be carrying you with me. I’m going to go to sleep now. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the energy I can get tomorrow. Wish me luck, Baby.

Rue

Chapter Five

Rue

What are you supposed to wear when you are going to meet with people hoping they choose you to carry their baby? The letter that I had written to the potential future baby was still laying on my dresser the next morning while I stood in front of the full-length mirror hanging from the back of my bedroom door and evaluated all seventeen of the outfits that I had picked out for the day’s meeting. Considering the spectacular ensemble I had worn for the first meeting, I didn’t know how I was going to make any more of an impression, but I felt that I needed to at least put some effort into it. The truth was that I was on the brink of

obsessing over what I was going to wear, how I was going to do my hair, and which lipstick color to put on. It was like I was getting ready for the strangest and most foreshadowing-filled date that has ever been. I want to look super pretty so that we can chat for a bit and then I can get pregnant and not have anything to do with you or the child after the baby’s born. Sound like a plan? I straightened the hem of the hip-length jacket I had paired with a pencil skirt, twisted side to side to look at myself from all angles possible, and then tore off the jacket and tossed it aside so I could try a cardigan on instead. How formal, exactly, was a surrogacy interview? Was this executive assistant to the CEO with my own office, or was this secretary with a desk on the main floor? I tried not to think about the job that that comparison brought to mind. I had worked hard to

get the position that ensured I could stay out of Whiskey Hollow and in the city where I had gone to college on a partial scholarship. I had carried the rest of the expense of school on my own back, working whatever jobs I could get to pay it knowing full well that Daddy would have helped me if he could, but it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Not a lot of people leave Whiskey Hollow at all, but they certainly don’t leave to go off to the city to go to college and start a career. So, I did it myself. I worked harder than I knew that I could, and I got through school then landed the first position I applied for. Now I had left that behind. They didn’t know it yet, since I was fully intending on continuing to collect the benefits of the extremely generous leave of absence policy that the company had until the very last moment that they were available to me, but I was never going to

walk back into that office and sit behind my desk. I had even smuggled home the potted plant and framed picture of Mama and Daddy that I kept on display to perk me up during difficult days. Those had come with me on my very first day on the job. It felt like an obligation. Every movie that you ever see when a girl gets her first job in the big city, the first thing she does is sit down at her desk and put out a potted plant and a picture of her family. That was when I was just in a little cubicle squished up into a honeycomb of dozens of other cubicles where it was hard to even hear myself think over the voices of all the other people working around me. As I rose through the ranks of the company, though, so did they, and when I finally made it into my own tiny little office, that potted plant and picture got first dibs on the desk space even before the paperweight and my name plaque. The picture even got an upgrade to a silver frame. I felt like the

pinnacle of success even though I was still only just barely able to stay comfortable paying for my apartment and bills and all of those other pesky expenses of adulting. That in itself was pretty comfortable, though. Having a lot of money was something else that people from the Hollow just didn’t do. We weren’t scraping around in the dirt, but we also weren’t driving around in the long, shimmering cars I constantly saw in the office parking lot or eating at restaurants that cost two weeks’ worth of groceries for dinner. Now my potted plant and picture of my parents had had to take up new real estate on the side table in my living room, never again to oversee my work. Giving up the career that I had cultivated over the years was the most difficult decision that I was having to make in this situation. I was having to give up all that I had committed myself to and all that I had accomplished so that I could return home and get this situation fixed. The money that they

were offering would be plenty to carry me through for a while. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do after that. I would figure it out when the time came. I took off the cardigan and tossed it over to join the rapidly growing pile of discards that were telling me that I either needed to get rid of a lot of clothing or buy more. I wasn’t sure which. I tugged a turtleneck sweater on and immediately tore it off. Why the hell do I have a turtleneck? I looked at myself in the mirror, standing in just the pencil skirt and bra. I’ll just go like this. Show them what they’re working with. Baby-birthing hips and ribs ripe for the kicking. Finally, I grabbed a pale pink shell and black wrap-around sweater and put them on. They settled into place around me and I felt like I had landed on

the right look. It had a bit of a ballerina vibe going, yet still looked immeasurably more presentable than my sweat suit. It was a win-win. I checked the clock and realized that it was only twenty minutes until I was supposed to be back at the building. Swirling my hair up onto the back of my head in a bun that I hoped would continue the ballerina look and not bring back memories of my untamed bedhead, I wriggled into my shoes, grabbed my purse and keys, and ran out of the apartment. By the time that I reached the office building I had a greater appreciation for why ballerinas wore legwarmers. I hadn’t gotten my coat on the way out and the weather had decided that it was very determined in its downward slope, leaving me shivering as I walked into the lobby. I felt like my heels were skittering across the floor as I walked across the gleaming lobby, and the sudden appearance of Ellery from the week before did nothing to help me feel calmer or more at ease. I

was hoping that I wasn’t going to have to deal with him anymore. I got bad feelings from him and really didn’t want to think that he was going to be extensively involved with this process. As I crossed to him, he met my eyes and by his expression I could tell that he was just as happy to see my return as I was to see his. At least we’re on the same page. Equal opportunity disdain going on here. I pasted on as big and bright a smile as I could and walked right toward him. “Ellery!” I gushed. “So lovely to see you this morning.” “Rue,” he said by way of super-abbreviated greeting. “Are you nervous?” I was briefly confused by the question then realized that he probably saw my shivering.

“No,” I said. “I’m cold. It’s cold out there.” “Oh,” he said, apparently disappointed that I wasn’t quaking in my boots to be facing him again. No boots. No quaking. “Am I late again today?” I asked. He glanced down at his watch. It still took me aback a little when I saw someone wearing and actually using a watch. “Three minutes,” he said dryly. “Getting better,” I said, still forcing my smile so hard it hurt in my cheeks. “This way,” he said, and we started our path through the lobby, through the glass doors, and into the waiting room. There was a far smaller group of women in the waiting room this time and I settled into the same seat that I had the first time. We went through

the same basic process as we had before, filling out questionnaires with even more invasive questions, waiting for our names, getting whisked back into the examination room. The same nurse as the week before came in and took my vitals. I wasn’t sure why she was doing it, but I figured if the couple chose me I would be undergoing a far more extensive selection of pokes, prods, and tests, so I was going to see this as my warmup. When I got out of the examination room I was ushered back to the waiting room. Hmmm. Plot twist. I sat back in my chair. No point in breaking the streak. There seemed to be fewer women now, even after the last one came back out of the door and settled into a seat. I didn’t know where the others could have gone and had a brief sense of doom, wondering not for the first time if I had somehow wandered into an episode of the Twilight

Zone and wasn’t going to be the contract mother, but zapped down to embryo size and turned into a contract baby. I really needed to stop the late-night TV marathons with Christopher. Nearly half an hour passed before the door opened again. This time it wasn’t the nurse who peered out with her clipboard. Instead, it was Ellery. He looked out at the waiting room and scanned the remaining women. He called a name and the woman across from me hopped up and scurried toward him like she had been called to spin the big wheel. This went on for the next half an hour, with each of the women returning and leaving before the next was called back. Finally, everyone had left but me and I sat waiting, wondering if I had either been forgotten or if someone else had already been chosen and they decided that there wasn’t any real point in even talking to me. That

must be it. One of those other women who had sat here in this room with me, none speaking a single word to each other, had somehow caught the attention of the couple and was going to be the one that was going to carry their baby for them. I thought of the letter that I had written the night before and felt an unexpected flutter of sadness. Which one was it? The one with the thicker hair? The bigger boobs? The smaller waist? The one who hummed the entire time that she walked into the back and then out of the room as if there was some sort of mechanical mechanism inside of her that was powering her along? I was about to just go ahead and leave, save myself the misery of seeing the look on Ellery’s face when he dismissed me, when the door opened

and his face poked out. The sour expression in his eyes and his pursed lips told me that maybe I wasn’t done after all. “You can come with me,” he said, not even bothering with the formality of saying my name. I stood and crossed the waiting room to him with a touch of swagger. “Saved the best for last, did you, Ellery?” I asked as I swept past him. Despite my bravado and sass, my stomach did a few turns of nervousness as we made our way toward the office where we had had our interview the week before. I was about to meet the people who could very well change my life, and whose lives I could change even more. Ellery opened the door and I took a breath, stepping inside. I lifted my head from where I had been focusing on the carpet a few feet in front of me and felt my smile melt when I saw the desk.

Instead of a smiling young couple sitting there, I saw a stern-looking man looking through papers spread across the surface of the desk in front of him. “Hello,” I said. “Hello. Please, come sit.” It was one of those times when saying ‘please’ actually made what the person was asking sound less polite. Ellery left the office and closed the door behind him without saying anything. I crossed the room and sat down in the same chair that I had before. “Good morning,” I said, not really knowing what else I could say to ease the stuffy feeling in the office. “Good morning. I’m Mr. Lawrence. I’ll be interviewing you today.” I cocked my head at him, confused by the

introduction. “I thought that I was here to meet the couple who is looking for a surrogate,” I said. Mr. Lawrence shook his head. “No,” he said. “I am a family lawyer specializing in surrogacy law. My client is a prominent figure and does not want others, including the media, to know about his surrogacy plans until he is prepared to release such information. To protect his privacy and the privacy of his girlfriend, he has asked that I handle this stage of the interview process and provide legal information and details to those who have been shortlisted.” “Girlfriend?” I asked, slightly surprised by the word. The bulbous lawyer looked at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Yes,” he said. “My client is not yet married. Do you have some sort of moral objection to that?” His pen was poised above the pad of paper in front of him, ready to jot down anything that I said and, likely, to eliminate me as the proper choice because I had a problem with their lifestyle choices. “No,” I said. “No moral objection. I’m just surprised. Don’t most people get married before they start thinking about children and go through all of this to have one?” I probably shouldn’t have asked that. It wasn’t really any of my business and the last thing that I needed was for the lawyer, who was probably actually some sort of mole hidden in the process to evaluate me, to think that I was difficult. “My client has an extremely high pressure, tightly scheduled business and personal life. He must make arrangements for any and all pursuits in his life, including his desire to have a child,

according to the time that he has available. A recent business success has ensured that he has time now to begin this process.” He looked at me again, his eyes sharp as though he wanted to make sure that I was listening very carefully to every word that was coming out of his mouth. “But I assure you, he has every intention of marrying his longtime partner in the near future.” What the hell was that supposed to mean? What did he think I was, some sort of gestational homewrecker?

Chapter Six

Richard

His longtime partner. Was Flora really my “partner”? My girlfriend, yes. The woman who had been essentially chosen for me to marry when I was just a child to complete some social Circle of Life that I had no idea about at the time, yes. My partner? I’m not so sure. We were great at doubles tennis. I was still stuck on that phrase as I listened to the lawyer I had chosen go over all of the legal details about the arrangement. I had heard the spiel a few times already that day. He was pretty amazing at being able to repeat the same information in exactly the same words and tone six times. The sheer volume of that information had had the effect that I both expected and wanted in

most of the women who had come into the room. They seemed perky and enthusiastic when they first came in, took a moment to process that it wasn’t the couple they thought they were going to meet waiting for them in the office, and then listened as Mr. Lawrence started outlining the expectations and responsibilities of the arrangement, the fees and financial support being offered, the guidelines we had, and the legal protections being put into place to guard both sides. Most of the women fared pretty well through the first few paragraphs that he delivered. They would listen with what looked like rapt attention, nodding politely and making those sounds that selfhelp gurus and life coaches tell people to make so that the person speaking will know that they are being heard and acknowledged. After a few more minutes, right about when he started talking about medical expectations and lifestyle guidelines, the smiles on their faces started getting a little plastic,

their eyes became glassy, and the noises that they were making no longer coordinated with anything in particular that the lawyer was saying. One of them stood up in the middle of the speech, announced that her dog needed to be brought to the groomer and that she was so sorry but would have to withdraw her interest because she just remembered how much time it took to take care of him. Another let him finish, but walked out of the office without saying another word. The other three made it through and tried to ask questions about all of the information with varying degrees of understanding and sense. Then there was Rue. I had barely recognized her when she walked into the office and I saw her appear on the computer screen. Gone were sweat pants and sweat shirt, replaced by tasteful clothes that accentuated a body with incredible curves that had been all but hidden by the loungewear. Her hair had been brushed and even though it was coiled on

the back of her head again, it was smooth and shiny, looking deliberately styled rather than just thrown into place to get it out of her way. The makeup she wore was distinctive, with bold eyeliner making her almost golden eyes stand out and the slick of bright red lipstick just contrasting enough with the pink of her shirt that it looked deliberate. She had been beautiful even when I first saw her, but being put together this way made her stunning in another way. I’m honestly not sure which one I prefer. Rue listened all the way through the explanation from the lawyer and I noticed that she didn’t seem intimidated or overwhelmed by him or the flow of information. She even interjected her own questions and comments throughout the way, some of which made the lawyer cringe but brought a smile to my lips. This woman seemed unfazed by anything that was thrown at her. She didn’t seem

fragile like the other women, as though if a single thing was to go wrong in the process she would fall apart, but also didn’t seem cold or distant. She was unwaveringly present in the moment, right there, listening to the lawyer and involving herself as much in the conversation as she could. “What do you think of her now?” I asked Flora. She was reluctantly sitting beside me, examining her nail polish more than she was paying attention to the screen and what was happening in the next office over. I saw her give a cursory glance and then she shrugged. “I guess she’s alright,” she said. “You do realize that she’s the woman you said was so horrible when you saw her last week? You were completely offended by her clothes and thought that she had no business even showing interest in this – but you thought that I was showing

more than enough interest?” Flora made a face at me and I was struck, as I so frequently was, by how much she reminded me of a spoiled little girl in the shell of a grown-up woman. Part of me hated that that was the way that I perceived her. I wanted to feel what I knew I should be feeling for her, at least what I thought -I should be feeling. I wanted to look at her the way that I saw other couples look at each other when we went to events together and saw them holding hands, walking with their arms around each other’s waists, and leaning in to whisper to one another, smiling and giggling at what each other said. Flora and I weren’t like that. We walked around the events together, of course, and we looked fantastic doing it. She was a gorgeous woman, primped and perfected, and she looked wonderful draped on my arm wherever we went. But there was none of that warmth between us. We didn’t exist in our own secret little world the way that the other couples

seemed to. Sometimes I longed for that kind of connection, wishing that we had the sizzle of passion and tenderness of such obvious love. There were other times, though, when I wondered if what I was seeing in them was no more valid than what we had, only fresher and newer. Many of the couples had only been together a short time and were still riding that high that came with discovering the spark of new love. Flora and I had been together for so long, or guided into a pseudo-relationship in convenient situations that our parents thought that we wouldn’t recognize for what they were, that it was almost impossible for me to think of a time when she wasn’t around. Perhaps we had just been a part of each other’s lives for so long that there wasn’t room left for those kinds of feelings.

****

Rue

“Alright, so we know that he lives around here because the lawyer was so adamant about him needing to protect his privacy, and that wouldn’t be a big deal if he lived somewhere else.” “Not necessarily,” Tessie said. “What do you mean?” “The lawyer said that this guy is a prominent businessman. Powerful men like that can be pretty well-known all over, not just where they live.” “I don’t know.” “You know who Bill Gates is and he doesn’t live around here,” Christopher pointed out. “I don’t think that Bill Gates is considering hiring someone to carry his child,” I said. “Besides, he’s married. The lawyer was very particular to

point out that this man has a girlfriend he’s planning on marrying.” “Probably for the best,” Christopher said. “If it was Bill Gates he would be seriously cheaping out with that surrogacy fee.” I nodded solemnly and opened the first website on the results that had popped up from my search. “What do you think?” I asked, gesturing at the screen. “He’s the right age. It looks like he has several businesses.” “Married,” Tessie said, pointing out a line on the About Us page. “Dammit.” I went back and opened another page. “OK, how about this one. Not married. Successful.”

“Gorgeous,” Tessie said. “That wasn’t specified in the description from the lawyer,” I said. I looked at the screen again and nodded. “But you are not wrong.” The man smiling from the screen had a chiseled face and thick, sandy hair that accentuated piercing blue eyes. Wow. “So, when are you supposed to meet him?” “Well,” I said, still staring at the image of the man who could possibly be the father of the child that I would soon be pregnant with. That was an interesting thought. “Since the last time that I thought that I was going to meet him I ended up sitting with a lawyer while he tried to confuse and scare me into giving up, so I’m not really sure. In theory, though, I meet them tomorrow.” “They aren’t waiting around, are they?”

“What are you going to wear?” Christopher asked. I sighed deeply and shook my head. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all day. It took me hours to figure out that one outfit. I’m not prepared for another.”

The next morning, I strode across the lobby and was passing through the first set of glass doors when Ellery crossed through the second toward me. I smiled, pleased with myself for getting the jump on him. “Not late today,” I said. He looked at his watch. “One minute.” “Dammit.” I winced. “I mean darn it.”

“This way,” he said, giving me the same type of glare that the Sunday school teacher gave every time I came in with muddy shoes because I ran through the yard before going in. “They’re waiting for you.” “Already?” I asked. “I’m only one minute late.” “Their time is very important,” Ellery said. “They don’t have the option of just waiting around for people.” “And yet, they are waiting for me,” I said, walking through the waiting room toward the door. “I must be pretty special.” I got to the office and stopped outside of the closed door. All of the nervousness that I had had the day before came rushing back, augmented now by the extra day that I had had to sit around and worry about meeting them. Ellery came up beside me and stared at the door for a few moments. He

pointed to the doorknob with the end of his pen. “You can just use that right there,” he said. I swung my head to look at him. “You didn’t get many hugs as a child, did you?” I asked. He glared at me and opened the door. I stepped into the office and felt my heart flutter slightly when I saw the man from my computer screen smiling back at me from behind the desk. “Hello,” he said, standing up and reaching a hand across the desk toward me. “You’re Rue.” I nodded, approaching him and taking his hand. “Yes,” I said. “It’s really nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Richard.”

I glanced around the office, expecting to see the blond woman who had been pictured in the society pages Christopher and I had shamelessly pored through the night before. “Nice to meet you, too,” I said. “Flora will be joining us later, hopefully,” he said, sitting down and gesturing toward the chair across from him. “She had a few other appointments this morning.” “Oh,” I said. I wanted to point out to him that I hadn’t seen any other women in the waiting room and ask if that meant that he had chosen me, but that seemed a little desperate to me, so I restrained myself. “I’m sorry about the bait-and-switch situation yesterday. This is a really important decision for me. For us. And I want to make sure I

make the right one.” I nodded. “I totally understand. Is there anything else that you want to know?” Stop staring at him. Stop staring at him. Stop staring at him. You cannot be attracted to him. You cannot be attracted to him. Richard looked down at the papers on his desk and flipped through them, his eyes scanning over them in the quickly flickering moves of speed reading that always made me feel dizzy just watching. He finished and looked up at me. “There are just a couple of questions that I want to ask you.” “Go ahead,” I said. “Anything you want to know. I’m an open book.” Probably a slightly crinkled paperback by

an author you would never read, but an open book nonetheless. He looked at me for a few long seconds. He opened his mouth as if to ask something and then closed it, waiting for another few seconds. “What is your favorite planet and why?” he asked. “Earth because I live here and it’s the only one that we are currently aware of capable of sustaining life without the use of extensive technology, I’ve seen Biodome. I don’t want to be a part of any of that. If Earth’s not an option, I’ll say Jupiter because it’s huge but gets overlooked by all the Mars-lovers out there and I feel that it needs more attention.”

**** Richard

She didn’t miss a beat. “If you were an ice cream sundae topping, which would you be?” “Chopped nuts.” “Why?” “Because they add texture and make a sundae more interesting. Besides, all the syrup makes them super delicious, but they’re still nuts, so they’re healthy. That way after people eat the sundae, they might feel guilty about the other toppings and the ice cream, but they won’t feel as terrible about the chopped nuts. I would make it a little easier for people to enjoy a treat.” “How many roller coasters have you ridden in your life and did you keep your hands up the entire time?”

Rue paused only for a second, her eyes looking up as if she was seeing something in her mind. “Ten. Some of them yes.” “Don’t you know that that’s dangerous?” “No, it isn’t. Roller coasters only have the illusion of being dangerous. That’s why they’re fun. They’re designed to make your subconscious believe that you are facing some sort of lifethreatening situation involving a crashing vehicle or a large monster thrashing you around in its teeth. In reality, though, they are completely safe and have only the slightest risk of malfunction that would actually result in injury.” “And danger is your middle name,” I teased. “It could be. But it’s not. It’s Bella.” “Bella?” I asked, waiting for her to laugh or to at least tell me that she was joking. “Your name

is Rue Bella?” Not laughing. Oh, my lord, she’s serious. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” I laughed at the serious look on her face and nodded. “Fair enough. Alright. One more question. A cat and three dogs walk down an alley and see a bowl of food. What color collar was the animal that got the food wearing?” “White with little fish, clearly.” “And why is that?” “Because it was obviously the cat that got the food. Cats always beat out dogs. Just the way it is. They’re sneaky and they have pointy fingers. Of course, the cat didn’t eat all the food and shared what was left with a dog that was wearing pink rhinestone collar.”

“Because?” “Bitches always get what they want.” I threw back my head and laughed, both shocked and enthralled by her answer. And her. “What exactly is going on here?” The sound of Flora’s frosty voice stopped my laughter and I looked at her where she stood at the door. “Oh, Darling, you made it. This is Rue. I was just asking her a few questions.” “I can’t imagine what you would have asked her that would have warranted an answer like that.” I realized that she had heard Rue’s comment and felt a little hint of guilt. Flora had trusted me to run the interview on my own until she got there, and I felt like I had somehow let her down with the

questions I’d chosen. Not that it really matters. Rue is the one. There isn’t anyone else who I even want to consider. I tried to explain the exchange, but Flora didn’t seem impressed. “I thought that you were going to ask her things that pertain to the arrangement,” she said. She was still standing beside the door, looking like she was preparing to escape and run away at any moment. I walked around the side of the desk and took her hands, kissing both. “I am,” I told her. “Don’t you want to know that the woman we choose to carry our baby can think quickly and has a creative mind?” “I’m not sure that her creativity has anything to do with her ability to get pregnant and deliver a child,” Flora said.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rue’s eyes narrow briefly at Flora before she turned back around to look across the desk again. This was getting off to a great start. “I think it does,” I told her. “It means that she will be adaptable to whatever situations might occur, and less likely to close her mind to ideas that we might have about her prenatal care and birthing situation.” “Ideas?” Rue asked from behind me. “What kind of ideas?’ “So, I suppose that you’re settled on her?” Flora asked. “None of the other women fit your standards?” “The other women did not make it through this phase.” I would try to explain the whole situation to her when we got home later.

I expected Flora to get angry. I knew that she didn’t like Rue. She didn’t trust her and thought that she was below her. It was obvious just in the way that she looked at her. But instead, she offered a smile and walked around me to where Rue was sitting. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Rue,” she said. She reached a hand toward Rue, who looked at her for a few unsure seconds and then took her hand cautiously. Flora pulled her to her feet and wrapped Rue into a hug that was so out of character for her I felt the need to take a step back. “Thank you so much for being willing to do this. You are an angel for giving of yourself so much to help make a dream come true for me and for my Richie.”

Chapter Seven

Rue

I was breathless as I walked across the lobby, my stilettos clicking on the floor so that the sound reverberated throughout the empty space. I didn’t know why Richard would have called me to meet him in the middle of the night, but the sound of his voice even over the phone was enough to make me tremble and I knew that no matter what his reason, I needed to be with him. The floor beneath my feet had been polished until it glistened, and I knew the reflection beneath me would show an image of the hem of my long coat and the fact that I wore nothing beneath it. Richard had only said that he needed to see me when he called me. He didn’t tell me why or what he wanted to talk about, but it didn’t matter.

The moment that I heard him say that he needed me, I was fully and utterly open to him. I had belonged to him from the moment that I saw him, and I was ready to offer myself over to him, to show him everything that he could enjoy with me. Wearing the long coat and absolutely nothing else was my way of ensuring that my intentions couldn’t be misunderstood. No matter what it was that he wanted to say to me. No matter why he beckoned me to the office building well after the final employees there had left and the cleaning staff had performed their duties for the night. I wanted to make sure that the moment that I walked into the office I would be able to show him exactly what was on my mind and keep me from holding back, restraining myself even though I knew that I should. This wasn’t a good idea. This wasn’t something that I should be doing. The voice in the back of my mind told me that. It told me that the

last thing that I should be doing was telling Richard how much I wanted him, that just the thought of him made me wet and my body ache for him to touch me. I hadn’t been able to get him out of my mind since the very first moment that I saw him on my computer screen and my desire for him had only gotten more intense when I walked into the office and actually got to see him. Thoughts of him, his body, his mouth, his hands on me, had taken over every moment of my day. I hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but my fantasies and the powerful pull from within me that seemed to take over my mind, my heart, and my body. I didn’t care who he was or how we had met. I didn’t care what was expected of our relationship or that he technically had another woman in his life. I had seen the way that they looked at each other. I had tried to tell myself that he loved her and that she loved him, but the way that they looked at each other told me that that wasn’t the case. There was

no warmth between them. No matter what they said to each other or the way that he tried to show affection to her. It was obvious to me that there wasn’t any of the intense love or lasting bond that there should be between them. Beyond that, I had seen the way that he looked at me. From the first time that our eyes met and I sat down across the desk from him, I knew that he felt the same thing that I did. I saw the heat there, the attraction, the curiosity. He had done everything he could not to show me what he was feeling and to deny it to himself as much as to me. I wasn’t going to let that happen anymore. His words were few when he called me, but that didn’t change the tension that I heard in his voice. It was there, strong and burning, simmering beneath the words. When he told me that he needed me to come to the office, he was telling me that he needed me. He wanted me. Even if he

didn’t want to admit it. Even if he wasn’t calling me to him to act on it, I was going to make sure that he was left with no questions in his mind or his heart. I crossed through the first set of glass doors and then the next. The lights were dim in this portion of the building, and I felt like I was moving deeper into a forbidden world, something that was going to exist only for us and that could never see the light of day. The waiting room was quiet and empty, almost as though it were slumbering. I passed through it, my eyes flickering for an instant to the empty chair that I had inhabited several times before. I didn’t need to wait to have my name called this time. I passed through the door and down the hallway toward Richard’s office. The door was standing partially open and I could see a slice of light spilling out into the hallway. I paused

outside and drew in a breath before reaching up and gently rapping on the door. “Come in,” Richard’s husky voice said immediately. I pressed the door open and stepped inside. Richard was sitting in his massive chair behind the desk, his eyes burning into me the moment that I came into view. He said nothing as I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I kept my eyes locked on him as I walked into the center of the room and released the knot of the belt at my waist. Richard’s gaze followed my fingers as the knot opened and I pushed the belt away before bringing my hands to the buttons of the coat. I moved slowly, letting my fingers gradually open each button to gradually reveal my body beneath. Richard’s eyes found my skin and I could see the hunger grow within them. When I reached the final button, I opened the coat and pushed it back

over my shoulders, letting it slip down my arms and pool on the floor at my feet. Richard pressed his hands to the surface of the desk in front of him and stood from his chair. He paused only for a second to look at me and then rushed around the side of the desk and to me. In an instant, I was in his arms and his mouth was on mine. It was a crushing, breathless kiss, our mouths hungrily seeking as much of one another as we could possibly find. Our tongues tangled, and my hands tore at his clothes, trying to find the warmth of his bare skin. Richard took his hands from my body to release his belt and tear at his button and zipper. I felt his deliciously hard cock spring out and brush against my belly. My body responded with a rush of hot fluid, readying me for him. My belly twitched, and I could feel my walls opening, seeking him. I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me. Richard wrapped his arm tightly around my waist and swept me up off of my feet and spun us around, so he

could carry me to the desk. Setting me on the edge, he pushed me onto my back and grabbed the tops of my thighs, yanking me forward so that my legs lifted up and he pushed them apart. The movement opened me to him, making me feel both vulnerable and intensely aroused. The feeling of Richard’s breath on my hot, wet core sent a thrill through me and I arched up toward him. His tongue dragged through my folds and I cried out at the sensation that rocked through me. He focused the tip on my clit for a few overwhelming seconds and then plunged his tongue inside me, bringing his thumb up to massage me in tight circles. My body shook, and I clawed at the desk beside me, looking for something to hold onto to try to find some control. The pressure building throughout my hips and stomach was almost painful in its strength and I couldn’t hold myself back. As he shoved his tongue so far within me that his mouth closed down over my center, I felt the rush

of an intense orgasm wash over me and I screamed out, reaching up to dig my fingers through his hair to at once grip him closer to me and pull him away to ease the shuddering power of the feeling. I was still gasping through the waves of sensation when I felt Richard stand up, heard the sound of a condom package ripping, and then felt him push inside of me. The sensation of his hard, thick cock filling me so much was almost painful and sent me into a new crashing cascade of tremors. I opened my eyes to look at Richard. His open shirt pressed back over his shoulders seemed to accentuate the rippling of his muscles, making him look unchained and even sexier. There was no hesitation in his movements. His fingertips dug into my hips as he pounded into me hard and fast. Richard’s eyes were fiery as they stared down at me. His jaw was clenched tightly, and I saw sweat beading on his forehead, gliding down

his cheeks. He grunted from deep within his chest with each thrust and I cried out at the slam of his hips against mine. I was still wearing my shoes and he straightened, grasping the high, sharp heels so he could press my legs back further and open even more. I reached over my head to grip the edge of the desk and hold myself in place so that the power of his strokes didn’t push me off. This position drove him even deeper and I let out an unbridled moan as his masterful cock reached a place inside of me that had never been touched. Richard’s thrusts grew harder and faster, his pace becoming feverish as the sounds coming through his gritted teeth grew louder and more forceful. My head arched back but I felt him take one hand away from my shoe and grasp my face, guiding it back into place so that he could stare down at me. He held my cheek, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone tenderly in a stark contrast to the thrust of his hips.

Suddenly he shoved into me with a final thrust that put him as far within me as he could be and he let out a roar as I felt his cock throb. The sensation pushed me over the edge and my body clenched around his, collapsing again into another blinding orgasm that squeezed down on him and made my fingernails claw into the muscles of his upper arms. We paused in breathless, shaking ecstasy until our bodies cooled and relaxed, easing down from the blistering peaks that we had achieved. Richard lowered my legs down onto either side of him and wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me up to sitting so that he could kiss me. I melted into the kiss, letting my arms fall around his neck to hold him close, and pressing my body nearer to his to remain connected for as long as I could. I was running my fingers down his back, feeling the muscles through the sweat-damp fabric of his shirt, when I felt the muscles disappear,

replaced by something soft. I opened my eyes and instead of seeing Richard’s chiseled, sexy face staring back at me, I saw darkness. I blinked, trying to make my eyes focus, and gradually shadows and shimmers of light appeared above me. I realized that I was no longer sitting on the desk but laying in my bed, stroking the pillow beside me. The sheets around me were damp and the air felt thick and warm, but the more I felt myself pulling up out of the deep sleep that had crafted the intense dream, the cooler the air felt. I sat up and reached down to the end of the bed, grabbed the blanket that was folded at the foot, and pulled it up over me as I lay back down, curling it up around myself. What the hell was that all about?

Chapter Eight

Rue

Dear Baby, You are going to be so beautiful. I met your parents yesterday and I can imagine their features coming together to make you and it’s amazing. Your eyes will be so blue, and you will have thick, perfect hair. You’ll be tall, which I can tell you as someone who has difficulty seeing the signs in a grocery store when I’m walking down the aisles, will be a blessing. It’s strange to be thinking about what you are going to look like now, still before you even exist. One day you will. One day you will be ready to face the world and you will come into it and everyone will get to look at you and see just how wonderful you really are. I am trying not to create an image of you in my mind because I know

that there’s no real way that I could come up with what you are actually going to look like and then it will seem like you are a stranger when you’re born. It won’t be long now. Today your parents, Richard and Flora, officially chose me to be their surrogate. I feel so lucky. This is going to help me in so many ways and I’m glad that I can do it in a way that helps them, too. Your daddy is somebody really special. I hope you know that. He’s kind and reassuring, and even though he seems a little bit stuffy, there’s a sense of humor there that’s a lot of fun. I hope that you see that sense of humor and that maybe you get some of it. It’s always better to see the world with a bit of laughter and light in it, no matter what’s happening. Your daddy has obviously lived a pretty sheltered life and probably hasn’t had much experience outside of his little bubble, but I can see something in him. There’s a little bit of sparkle in there and I see it whenever

he talks about you. Your mother is a surprise to me. She wasn’t there when I first met your father and when she did come in, she didn’t seem too pleased to be seeing me. Not that she wasn’t pleased that there was an interview going on, because obviously she knew about that, but not pleased that it was me sitting there. I don’t know why that would be the case since we’ve never met before, but that was the immediate impression that I got. As soon as your father told her that I was the one that he had chosen, though, it was like she turned a switch. Suddenly she was gushing and emotional, and actually came up and hugged me. Now, I can tell you that that hug felt like it was coming from someone who doesn’t do the hugging thing very often. But it was a hug nonetheless and while it seemed to take your daddy aback a bit, too, he was happy as a frog in the rain. It was like everything was falling into place in his mind and he was

finally able to actually see how this was all going to work out. I have all kinds of doctor’s appointments set up for the next couple of weeks. The first one is tomorrow afternoon. I’m supposed to discuss my reproductive potential. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it sounds awkward. I’m sure it’s only the very beginning of a whole stream of awkward, though, so I’m just bracing myself. With any luck, we can schedule the implantation within the next month and we’ll be on our way. I just realized that if the first implantation takes, I’ll be pregnant over the holidays. No egg nog for me. Well, I can have egg nog, I just can’t let Christopher anywhere near it. Is it ridiculous that I feel a little guilty that you’ll be with me over Christmas and not with your parents? You won’t even be the size of a holly berry, yet I feel like I should go sit on their couch with my belly pointed

toward their Christmas tree or something. Menorah? Is that possible? Not that it matters, of course, it’s just that I’m realizing more and more as this becomes more real to me that I don’t know these people. I’m sure I’ll get to know them better as the weeks go by. I don’t honestly know how well I want to get to know them, though. I know that sounds terrible and I don’t mean it to. It’s just that…what if I really like them? What if I form a friendship with them? When all of this is over and you are born, that friendship would be over too. I can’t imagine that your mother would want to keep me around as Auntie Rue or anything. It’s not that I think she’s a terrible person. That’s not it. Like I said, I just feel like there’s something a little bit off about her. It’s probably not her usual personality or what is actually the way that she is when she’s not in this type of situation. If she was, your father wouldn’t be with her and wouldn’t be going through something like this with her.

Of course, at the same time I don’t want to have no relationship with them. This is something that they should have the opportunity to experience, even if it is just watching my belly grow, being there for ultrasounds, and feeling kicks. I wouldn’t want to think that they would go for the fast food version, being there for the implantation and then just checking back in with me when I was ready to pop and they had spent the last nine months going about their lives. Maybe that’s not the fast food version. The bread maker version? Slow cooker? Definitely not the pressure cooker. I hope that I will make a good home for you. I’ve been trying to eat better the last few days. I don’t know how much of a difference it will make, but I’d like to think I’m doing a little bit of freshening up before you move in. When you get there, I promise I will do everything that I can to make it comfortable for you and to help you stay

healthy and safe until the day comes for you to be born. Wow. Your birthday. That will be your actual, real birthday. I’d like to think that that day has already been chosen. Somewhere out there it has already been decided what zodiac sign you’re going to be and whether you are going to be a summer baby or a fall baby. Somehow, that thought is comforting to me. The responsibility of all of this is already starting to sink in and it makes me feel better to think that I’m not the only one who’s controlling this and that somewhere along the line it will just be about me going along for the ride. All I can promise you is that I will do everything I can to make sure that you get through the months that you’ll spend with me in the best way possible so that I can hand you healthy and safe to your parents and you can go on to live the incredible life they have planned for you. I know that I’ve spent most of the time since you became even a concept in my life thinking

about what I am going to be doing for you and for your parents, but I want you to know that I will never forget what you are doing for me, either. Thank you in advance for letting me be the one who carries you. Thank you for giving me the chance to actually do something good in the world and to help people in a way that even just a few months ago I never would have even begun to imagine I would do. And thank you for helping me to save the home that is so precious to me. You’ll never know how much it means to me that I won’t lose that house. I am glad to know that you won’t know what it is to struggle or to feel that you’re missing out on anything. You won’t ever know what it is to worry that you’ll lose everything that means something to you. That’s a gift and I hope that you will appreciate it. I know those things all too well, but because of you I won’t have to be as afraid. The money that your parents will pay me for carrying you will be enough to secure my

grandmother’s home and to get me through for a while. After that, I’ll figure it out, but at least I’ll know that my home is safe. One day when I have children of my own, if I’m ever lucky enough to do that, I’ll be able to raise them there and I will never forget that it is because of you that I’ll be able to do that. I’ll be going home to Whiskey Hollow soon. I don’t know what the doctor’s going to say about resting or anything after the procedure, but I feel like I should do something. I’ve already taken leave from my job, so I’ll just be packing up my apartment until the day of the procedure. Then I think I’ll take the day or maybe even two to just lay around and hope for the best. Maybe I’ll put my legs up over my head. Do you think that I could count one of those inversion tables as a pregnancy expense and just dangle upside down for a while after? That might be going a bit too far.

Part of me is looking forward to going home and seeing the Hollow again. It has been so long and the last time I was there was so painful for me that going back feels like a way to make that go away and bring back all of the warmth and wonderful memories that I cherish so much and that make me want to make sure that it isn’t taken from me. There’s another part of me, though, that is almost dreading going back. I worked so hard to get out and to make my life what it has become, and going back, not just visiting but actually moving back, feels like I’m giving all of that up. I’m afraid that I’ll lose that part of me and forget what I’m really capable of accomplishing. We’ll just have to see. Wish me luck for the doctor’s appointment.

Rue

Chapter Nine

Richard

“Did you hear what I said?” I felt like the words were coming to me out of a fog. I shook my head hard, trying to get the thoughts I had been having out of my mind. I knew somewhere in there that I had heard what Flora said. I knew what they meant and the changes that the reality were going to cause for everything that I thought was going to be happening in my near future. The thoughts that had rushed through in response to what she had told me, however, weren’t what I would have thought they would have been. Had someone told me the news that Flora was going to bring to me that day, there are many things that I would have thought that would have gone through my mind, but the immediate

image of the beautiful, playful face of the woman that we had chosen was not one of them. Yet, there she was. Rue’s bright eyes and wide, alluring mouth. Her soft skin and hair that never seemed to behave, even when she was trying to style it. What the hell was I thinking? “Did you hear me?” Flora asked again, her voice more forceful this time. The stark change in the tone of her voice brought my attention to her. In an instant she had gone from sounding sad and weak to sounding forceful and angry. I looked at her, leaning slightly toward her where she sat on the couch beside me and shook my head. Maybe I hadn’t. Maybe what I thought that she had said wasn’t right. “I’m sorry, Darling,” I said. “Tell me again.” Flora’s pale face turned red and her eyes flashed angrily at me. Her lips turned in, pursing

with frustration. I could tell that asking her to repeat herself had been the very wrong thing to do. Of course, in recent months it seemed that nearly everything that I did was the wrong thing to do and I was just trying to glide between arguments. It wasn’t a pleasant way to be, but I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. She was going through a tremendous amount of stress. This process wasn’t easy for her, difficult in a way that I was never going to be able to understand, and she was struggling to connect with it as much as I did. Though she had been effervescently welcoming to Rue when I first told her that she was the one who I had chosen, it was a strange, out-of-character reaction that made me wonder at Flora’s motivations. Part of me hated that I was even thinking that way. That wasn’t the way that any man should feel about the woman with whom he was planning to start a family. I shouldn’t be feeling the suspicion that I was and instead should be

happy that she was trying hard to connect to a process that was difficult for her and a situation that I suspected was still fairly new in her mind and her heart. “I told you that I went to see my doctor this morning,” she said. “Yes,” I said, nodding, the realization of the message that she had already told me starting to settle in again. “I remember you said that.” “And do you remember what the doctor told me?” she asked, her voice going back to the fragile, weak sound. “Something about your eggs?” I asked. I sounded unsure and I knew that it would only make her angrier, but part of me didn’t want to hear what she had said. She nodded, her eyes widening and glazing over with tears until she looked like a baby doll.

“The doctor told me that my eggs aren’t viable,” she said. “What does that mean?” I asked, even though I already knew and just needed for her to say it, just to make sure that I really did know what she was telling me. “It means that it’s not just that I can’t carry a pregnancy,” she said. “I can’t even conceive a baby. What few eggs I do produce aren’t healthy enough to actually support a baby.” “What does that mean for the surrogacy?” I asked. Flora’s mouth fell open slightly as if she was horrified that I would even think to ask such a question. “Is that really all you care about?” she asked. “I’m telling you that I’ve heard this terrible news about my health, and all you can think about is

whether this woman you’ve chosen is going to be able to get pregnant?” I looked at her quizzically. “Yes,” I said. “Isn’t that why you’re upset, too? You aren’t sick. You aren’t suffering from a serious medical condition that’s going to threaten your life. If your eggs aren’t viable, wouldn’t the only reason for you to be upset be that the surrogacy can’t go forward like we planned?” Flora looked at me for a few seconds and I could see the thoughts churning through her mind as she tried to process what I had said and put it into the context of what she was feeling. Finally, she gave a slow nod. “You want a baby so badly,” she said. “I thought that we wanted a baby so badly,” I said. “Of course,” Flora said. “That’s what I

meant. We want our child. And now the doctors have told me that I can’t possibly have one. What are we going to do?” I checked the time on my phone. “Rue has an appointment to meet with the doctor in twenty minutes,” I said. “We’ll go to the meeting and talk about it. Maybe the doctor has a suggestion.” “Don’t you think that if there was any option at all, that my doctor would be able to tell me?” “I don’t know,” I said. “You insisted on going to your regular doctor rather than a fertility and surrogacy specialist. Maybe there’s something that she doesn’t know that we could consider.” Before she could argue with me anymore, I grabbed up my coat and headed out of the house. Unlike the other appointments that were held in the medical center of one of my office buildings, this

appointment was at the hospital where the specialist I had chosen currently worked. If all went according to plan, however, he wouldn’t be working there exclusively for much longer. When we arrived at the hospital, I took a few seconds to look over the outside of the building and the parking lot area, taking notes of what I would change. My car pulled up in front of the entrance and I got out, turning to help Flora out behind me. Rue was already waiting in the doctor’s office when we walked in, her eyes locked on Ellery, glaring at him angrily. “Is everything alright?” I asked. “I wasn’t even late,” she muttered, more under her breath than to me. “What?” I asked. Rue looked up at me and I noticed a hint of color splash across her cheeks.

“Oh, hi,” she said. My mind traveled back to the thoughts that I had had when Flora first revealed her news to me and I had to pull my eyes away from Rue to end them. I crossed the office to the desk and reached out a hand to shake the doctor’s. He smiled at me with the warm, jovial smile that had put me at ease the first time I met him and gestured toward the chairs set up beside Rue. I intended to take the outer chair, allowing Flora to sit between us, but she dropped down into that chair without looking toward Rue or me. I sat down in the chair in the middle and smiled at Dr. Morgan, hoping that the awkwardness I was feeling wasn’t obvious to everyone else in the room. “Good morning, everyone,” he said. “I’m excited to be getting started on this journey with you.” “Before we get started,” Flora interjected,

holding up a hand to stop the doctor from continuing. “I think that I need to tell you something. I’m not sure why we are even here. This cannot proceed.” I heard Rue let out a little gasp beside me and I looked back at her. She was looking down at her lap, seemingly embarrassed by her reaction. I looked at Dr. Morgan, who had his head cocked and was looking at Flora through narrowed eyes. “Why is that?” he asked. “I came from my doctor earlier this morning,” Flora said, and I felt my chest constrict. I was hoping that she was going to give me the opportunity to do a little bit of a lead-in before she just blurted out what the doctors had told her, but she obviously wasn’t going to give me that opportunity. “They told me that my eggs aren’t viable, so I will not be able to conceive a child, even through laboratory means.”

“Well,” I said, reaching out to touch her leg comfortingly. “They didn’t say that specifically. They said that her eggs aren’t viable, but her doctor isn’t a fertility specialist. We were hoping that maybe you would know of an alternative that would still allow the plan to move forward.” Dr. Morgan nodded. “I do,” he said. Relief rushed through me and I let out a sigh, my smile widening. I knew that there was still going to be a way. “That’s wonderful news,” I said. “But,” Dr. Morgan said, some of the brightness gone from his face as he seemed to caution me with the tone of his voice. “It might not be what the two of you had planned.” “What do you mean?” Flora asked.

“If your eggs aren’t viable, there’s really nothing that I can do to make them viable. It just means that they can’t be used. That doesn’t mean, however, that you can’t use another egg.” “Another egg?” I asked. “An egg donor is used in a large percentage of surrogacies.” “You want me to just choose a stranger and use their egg?” Flora asked. “Not necessarily a stranger,” Dr. Morgan said. He looked to Rue. “Rue,” he said. “Me?” she asked. “Traditional surrogacy involves the woman who is acting as gestational carrier to also contribute her egg. The process is largely the same

except for the insemination procedure, and the legalities will remain that once the baby is born, it is the child of the couple and not the surrogate.” Silence fell over the room for only a beat before it filled with voices. “How could you even suggest that?” Flora demanded. “You can’t be serious,” Ellery said. “This will make things much more complicated,” Mr. Lawrence said from where he was standing on the other side of Ellery. “I’ll do it.” Everyone turned and looked at Rue. She was staring directly at Dr. Morgan, her face still and seemingly unfazed by the announcement. “You will?” I asked. The relief that had drained away rushed back

now, heightened with hope. Rue looked at me and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I will. I told you that I would do anything that I could to help you and that I was in this for the long haul. I meant that. Just because things aren’t working out exactly the way that you had them planned doesn’t mean that you should give up or that you can’t ever have a child. If the doctor won’t be able to harvest any of Flora’s eggs to use and the doctor and the lawyer both think that it is a realistic plan to use mine, then I am willing to do it.”

**** Rue

What in the living-fucking-flipping-hell did I just agree to?

I had told them that they were more than welcome to use my eggs before I even had a chance to think it all the way through. It was like my mind was still in the process of going through it all and the words just jumped out without authorization. Richard had looked so sad, though, that I hadn’t given myself time to really contemplate what I was agreeing to and just how much that single agreement was going to change everything about the journey that I had in front of me. One gorgeous man looks sad and suddenly I’m like an all-night grocery store near Easter. Eggs up for grabs all over the place. I could feel everyone in the room staring at me and I was wishing that this had been a slightly more private meeting, or at least that I had given a token ‘I’ll think about it’ and then discussed my willingness with Richard when it could be just the

two of us. My willingness? When it came to Richard it seemed to me that my willingness was bordering much closer to wanting to conceive this baby the good oldfashioned way than it was to offering him my egg because his girlfriend wasn’t able to conceive or carry a child. Something struck me as strange about that. This woman was young and healthy. At least she looked it. I knew that things like this happened, but I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that someone like her was never going to be able to have her own child. If she wanted any more than the one we were discussing now, she would have to go through all of this again. Suddenly I was struck with the strange thought that if that happened, I hoped they would call me again. Not that I had the particular urge to go through another pregnancy that wouldn’t be

mine, but that so the child that they would have from this pregnancy would be the full sibling of any future children that they had. I didn’t know why that mattered to me, but somehow it did. “Thank you so much, Rue,” Richard said. “You have no idea what this means to me.” “Yes,” Flora said, her voice somewhat flatter now. “No idea.” I don’t see too many hugs in my future. “Of course, all care after today will be performed at the new facility,” Richard said. “I want Rue to have the best attention throughout the entire process, including leading up to the insemination.” “New facility?” I asked. Richard looked at me as if I had somehow missed something that I should already know. I wondered briefly if there had been an orientation

packet that I hadn’t read through. Ellery stepped up beside me and thrust a sheaf of papers into my hand. Well, shit, there’s an orientation packet that I haven’t read through. The first page of the packet was a crisp cover sheet with our names and the year printed on it. I suddenly felt like I was in some sort of corporate conference. I was just waiting for them to call a break and start bringing in boxed lunches. They didn’t, though, and I opened up the packet to find a sketch of a small, but impressive, building. “What is this?” I asked. “I’ve designed a medical facility to handle your needs throughout the pregnancy and during the delivery,” Richard said. “You have?” I asked, shocked by the casualness of the statement.

“I did extensive research before starting the search for the right woman to carry our child and I realized that the medical facilities in this area are woefully lacking when it comes to their maternity departments.” He glanced at the doctor. “I apologize.” “It’s alright,” Dr. Morgan said. “I know that you have discerning tastes.” Were we talking about restaurants or hospitals here? “I wanted to make sure that whoever I chose to carry my child would be in the very best hands from the beginning of the process. The facility that I have designed will be ready within a matter of days and will feature cutting edge technology, a dedicated staff of doctors, midwives, doulas, and nurses, as well as chefs, massage therapists, yoga instructors, nutritionists, therapists, and other professionals, and accommodations designed to be

more comfortable than clinical. Throughout your pregnancy and until the baby is born and has reached six weeks old, you will be the only patient at the facility. After that it will be endowed as an exclusive private maternity center.” I blinked a few times, trying to give my brain the chance to absorb what he had just told me. “You built a new medical center just for this baby?” I asked. “Yes,” Richard said. “It is very important to me that my child get only the best and I intend for that to apply from the moment that it exists.” How wealthy was this man?

The rest of my time with the doctors went by in a bit of a blur of intense conversations, whispering between Flora and Richard, cold instruments, unflattering hospital robes, and endless

reminders of everything that my body would go through during this process. When I felt like my brain had stopped spinning I was sitting back on the couch at my apartment with Christopher and Tessie on either side of me. “You did what?” Christopher asked. “I told them that they could use my egg,” I said, still somewhat surprised myself to hear the words coming out of my mouth. “So, it will be your baby?” Tessie asked. I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It will still be their baby. The lawyer was there throughout the whole thing to make sure that I understood what was happening, and we signed the contracts. Essentially whatever egg they use won’t belong to me. The baby is theirs. They get to dictate how I take care of myself during the pregnancy so that they know that I’m

taking care of the baby properly. As soon as the baby is born, I hand it over to them. They’ll provide for post-natal care up until my six-week checkup and then we go our separate ways.” “And you don’t have anything to do with the baby?” Christopher asked. “Nope,” I said. “It isn’t an adoption. This is their baby.” I told them about the medical facility that Richard had designed. “This man has some serious money,” Tessie said. “No wonder the fee he’s offering is higher than average.” “It is?” I asked. Christopher nodded. “We’ve been doing some research,” he said. “We wanted to make sure that we were up on the

news.” I felt tears coming into my eyes and I reached out to grab both of their hands. “Are you alright?” Christopher asked. “Is this baby hormones?” I laughed as the first few tears slipped out of my eyes. “I’m not even pregnant yet,” I said. “Then what’s wrong?” Tessie asked. I shook my head. “I’m not sure.” It was the complete truth. I wasn’t sure what emotions were rushing through me. The reality of it all had settled in and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. In the back of my mind, though, my dream was still bright and vibrant, the tender, grateful smile on Richard’s lips superimposed on it

making my heart shiver in my chest.

Chapter Ten

Richard

“How could you do that?” I had barely gotten the door to our house closed when Flora whipped around to glare at me and took an angry step in my direction. “Do what?” I asked, unbuttoning my jacket and handing it to the butler to hang it for me. He walked past Flora without pausing to ask for her coat. To say that they didn’t get along would be a tremendous understatement and I tended to look the other way when he avoided interacting with her if she seemed to be in a particularly bad mood, which it was obvious in that moment that she was. Her face was reddened with anger and her mouth was pursed so hard her lips were barely

visible anymore. Like usual in situations like this, I would take Flora’s jacket and put it aside somewhere. It would be gone the next time that I walked through the room, only to reappear the next time that we were leaving the house. “I can’t believe that you asked Rue to let us use her egg.” “I didn’t ask,” I said. “She offered.” “And you accepted.” “Of course, I did. You heard what Dr. Morgan said. If your doctor said that your eggs aren’t viable, then that’s it. They can’t be used for the surrogacy.” “And you were just so willing to jump on using her egg.” I crossed the foyer toward her and she promptly turned and stalked away from me. I followed her into the living room where she tossed

herself into one of the plush sofas. If I wasn’t mistaken, in less than five minutes one of the housekeepers would arrive with a tray of tea and the tasteless, boring diet cookies that Flora insisted were delicious but I knew from personal experience tasted like cardboard dipped in old advent calendar chocolate. I couldn’t remember which of Flora’s meltdowns had started that tradition, but it was now common practice of the staff to try to release some of her tension and soothe her back from the brink. I would show my appreciation with an extra little tip at the end of the week. It was one of those things that defined the pattern of our lives and while it was one of the less pleasant of the habits that we had built, I was so accustomed to it by now that it barely fazed me when it happened. I just needed to figure out what it was that she was furious about, let her steam for a little bit, then figure out a way to fix it or just ride it out until she was over it or had moved on to something else that would hold her

attention for a while. I knew that things were going to be different when the baby came. Being a mother would calm her down. It would give her something to focus on and to fulfill her. When she had our baby to take care of, she wouldn’t be so frustrated and put out by the little things that happened in life because we would be too busy taking care of our little one. The three of us would settle into life together and Flora and I would finally be the family that I always envisioned having. Though I would normally barely even notice Flora’s fit, somehow this time I couldn’t shake it. Reminding myself that things were going to get better soon, that when our baby was born we would have the life that we both wanted, didn’t take away the frustration that I was starting to feel. I walked into the living room and stared down at her where she sat.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this,” I said. “Acting like this?” Flora said, her voice low as though I had said something incredibly offensive. “What is that crack supposed to mean?” “You are so angry that I agreed to let Rue contribute an egg so that we can have our baby. It doesn’t make sense. You agreed to surrogacy when you found out that you can’t carry children. What’s changed.” “I agreed when I thought that maybe somehow I would be able to use my own eggs,” she said. “I didn’t think that I was going to be completely separated from this whole experience. That you were going to find some other woman to go through the experience with and that I was just going to be on the sidelines.” “You aren’t on the sidelines,” I told her, sitting on the couch beside her. “You are going to

be just as involved every step of the way as I will be, and then when the baby comes, you will be so in love with it that you won’t even think about any of this. It will be our baby. Nothing else will matter. We’ll be a family and spend the rest of our lives happily together.” I tried to smile at her, but Flora didn’t look convinced. “What if you don’t see me when you look at the baby?” she asked. “Of course, I’ll see you. You will be the baby’s mother and you will be wonderful at it.” “Maybe it’s time for us to talk about adoption,” she said. “Adoption?” I asked. I felt a flicker of discomfort in my stomach. When we first started talking about having a child and learned that Flora wouldn’t be able to carry it

herself, adoption was something that I was more than willing to consider. Now, though, the thought made my heart sink a little. It was different now. Something had changed. “Yes,” Flora said. “Don’t you think that we could be great parents to a child even if it wasn’t yours biologically? You’re asking me to raise a child that belongs to someone else, but you aren’t willing to do the same?” She was spiraling into anger again and I wanted to stop the progression. The door opened, and the housekeeper scuttled in, lowered the tea tray to the table in front of Flora, and then left without saying a word. I met her eyes as she turned to shut the door, hoping that she could see the gratitude in my face. Flora paused to take a sip of her tea and eat a cookie. It seemed to bring her back to the still-elevated but at least controlled mental place and I took the opportunity to respond

to her. “I’m not asking you to do anything that you don’t want to do,” I said. “If you want to consider adoption, we’ll talk about it. But it could take years for us to get a baby. I thought that it was important to you to be able to raise our child from its first day. I know that there are children out there who need families, and maybe one day we will open our home to one, or even a few, but we talked about this. You said, and I agreed, that at least for our first child we wanted to go through the pregnancy experience and raise a newborn.” I could see Flora’s eyes flickering slightly back and forth as if she was thinking hard about something. The color in her cheeks had faded and the tension in her muscles was responding to the calming properties of the tea. Finally, she set the cup on the tray again and looked into my eyes. “If this is so important to you, then I will go

along with it,” she said. “We’ll move forward with the surrogacy.” Relief flooded through me and I threw my arms around Flora, pulling her close to me for a hug. Her hands touched my back and I felt her pat me cordially. I wished, not for the first time, that there was more warmth in the way that she touched me, or even in the way that I touched her. I hoped that it would come, that the experience of bringing a new life into the world and raising it together would help us to rediscover, or possibly discover for the first time, the depth of love that I saw in others but often felt that we had never really had. ****

“I can’t ask you to do that.” “Of course, you can.” “No. I really can’t.”

“If she says that she can’t, she can’t.” I looked at Flora, who stood with her arms crossed over her chest. She had taken to not even sitting down at the meetings and as much as I thought that I should, I realized that I didn’t even care. Since we agreed to move forward with the plan, she had seemed distanced and I had had to come to the decision that I wasn’t going to let her force me into the same response. I wanted to be as invested and committed to this as I possibly could, even if that meant that I had to ignore how difficult she was being. She would get over it eventually and I couldn’t waste any step of this process waiting for her. “There’s no reason that I can’t help her.” “This doesn’t have anything to do with the contract,” Rue insisted. “You can’t be responsible for my personal expenses.” “Part of the agreement was that I would

provide for your expenses throughout the agreement period, and that includes housing.” “Yes, housing. Like covering rent payments. That doesn’t count moving me. That’s something that I decided to do on my own.” “I don’t want you having to be stressed about anything,” I said. “I don’t want you to worry about having to pack and load a truck and do all of that before the procedure and especially not after.” “I wouldn’t be doing it on my own,” Rue insisted. “I have friends that would come help me.” “This is something that I am happy to do for you,” I said. “I can make sure that the whole thing is over and done with in one day. That way you can get settled in, relax, and get ready for next week. Please say you’ll accept.” Rue seemed to think about my offer for a few moments and then nodded.

“I will,” she said. “Thank you.” “Good. Just pack a bag with anything you might want for the first night that you are in your new home and then the crew will be there to handle the rest for you.” “Oh, it’s not a new home,” she said. I looked at her questioningly. “What do you mean?” “It’s actually my grandmother’s house,” she said. “I’m just going home.” I smiled. That sounded wonderful.

Two days later I arrived at Rue’s apartment to check in on the progress of her move. I carried a to-go cup of coffee to cut the chill that had settled firmly into the air and a box of pastries. Rue was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at

the door to her apartment in stunned silence. I walked up to her side and she jumped slightly at my sudden presence. I held out one of the cups of coffee and she looked at it for a moment before taking it. “Thank you,” she said. I was about to offer her some of the cream and sugar that I had in a small bag, but she took a long swig of the strong brew black and I smiled. My kind of woman. I shook my head slightly. That wasn’t a thought that I should be having. I opened the box of pastries and held it out to her. She peered inside and then lifted her eyes to me. “I thought that I was supposed to be on a strict diet,” she said.

There was a hint of suspicion in her voice as if she thought that I was perhaps testing her. I laughed and leaned forward slightly so I could speak to her in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “That diet is mostly Flora’s doing, anyway.” I straightened and took a long sip of my own coffee, sighing happily as the heat slid down my throat and started to ease the tension in my muscles that the cold had put into them. “We’ll call the coffee a farewell. No more caffeine after next week.” She looked at the cup in her hand and then back at me. “To getting through nine months on only the high of life,” she said, lifting the cup as if in a toast. “Almost ten months, technically,” I said. “I’m going to need at least two pastries,” she said, lifting her cup a little higher.

I lifted my cup with a laugh and we both took deep sips before she selected her first pastry. “How is the move going?” I asked. Rue nodded as she chewed. “Unbelievably fast,” she said. “In fact, I think that they’re almost finished. I was all geared up to sleep here tonight, but I don’t have a bed anymore.” “I told you it would be finished in one day,” I said. “I was just planning on staying so that I could take care of the cleaning and stuff. I’ve heard that this landlord is a beast when it comes to security deposits, and I’m determined to be the one who cracks her.” I laughed. “Well, I already have a cleaning crew on call,

ready for when the moving crew has emptied out the apartment. I can assure you that they will leave it cleaner than when you came in. And if there are any damages, I can get somebody in to fix those the next day.” Rue looked back at her apartment with a contemplative expression. “There is that spot on the ceiling where Christopher tried to make popcorn and the broken French door from Tessie’s Tai Chi phase.” “Those shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, even though in the back of my mind I was really in need of a bit more information about these two people and the tragedies that had apparently befallen Rue’s apartment. She turned back to me and held up her cup again. “Here’s to getting security deposits back.”

“Here’s to getting security deposits back.” I tapped the rim of my cup against hers and smiled as we both took sips again and watched as the moving crew carried the last few boxes out of her apartment and piled them into the moving trucks lined up along the road. When they were finished, I turned to Rue. “Would it be presumptuous to ask to come along with you to your new place and make sure you get settled in alright?” I asked. Rue looked uncomfortable, her eyes sliding toward her apartment as she hemmed-and-hawed for a few moments. “Well,” she said, her voice trailing out as though she were trying to take as much time as she could so that she could come up with something to say. “It’s just that…I was planning on meeting up with Christopher and Tessie later.”

I could tell that she didn’t want me to go along with her, and though that made me want to even more, I knew that I couldn’t force her to let me accompany her. I nodded. “That’s alright,” I said. “Maybe some other time. Could I at least interest you in a warm car and the rest of our coffee and pastries?” She smiled, her eyes lighting up with relief, and nodded. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Eleven

Rue

Dear Baby, Are you in there? I wish I knew. The procedure was only three days ago so I have a little bit of time before I’ll know for sure. I hope that you are. Somehow, it’s like I can feel that things have changed. I think that I can feel you there. At least, I hope that I am. The procedure wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it was going to be. It was incredibly awkward, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that there is any way that anybody could go through something like that without it being awkward, especially considering I knew that Richard, your daddy, was sitting right outside in

the waiting room. It went so fast, though, and the doctor was so gentle, I had to ask if it had actually happened and I was all finished. The one really good thing about us deciding to use my egg instead of another donor’s was that there was no need to do an extraction and go through all of that. The doctor just had me track my ovulation and then come in when it was time. That did mean that this all happened much more quickly than I think that I really had in mind. I’m glad that it is done, though. I think that if it was to keep stretching on that my nerves would get the best of me. This way, the scariest part is finished. Well, maybe the second-scariest part. The really scary part is going to be taking the test to see if the procedure worked and you are actually in there. The doctor said that we’re waiting for implantation. Essentially, if you are in there right now, you aren’t snuggled up in place yet. So, if you are, stay safe on your travels and get comfortable

soon. We’ll know in about a week. The timing seems very appropriate. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I can’t think of anything that I would like to be more thankful for this year than to know that you are coming and my Grammyma’s home is safe and secure. I’ve been back in the house for almost two weeks now and I feel like I might be starting to get used to being here again. I think I’ve already told you that the house is in my hometown, a tiny little place called Whiskey Hollow, but now that I’m hoping that it will be your home for the next nine, almost ten, months, I thought that I would tell you a little more about it. They say that the area got the name Whiskey Hollow when a group of convicts escaped from the chain gang by spiking the guard’s water bucket with the prison alcohol that they had made in their cells and smuggled to the worksite by soaking the

cuffs of their shirts and then wringing them out into the bucket as they walked by. The alcohol was so potent that the guard was drunk after two gulps, gulps that must have been so big and fast that he didn’t even notice the taste, which I can’t really imagine was anything but horrible. Once he was teetering around, they got their chain slithering so it looked like a giant snake and confused the guard into trying to chase it, which just made him woozy. Soon he tipped over and ended up spread out in the middle of the road, letting the convicts steal his keys. They unlocked themselves and ran, ending up in a cute little valley pretty far from anything. At least, that’s what they thought. The truth was that they had only just gotten over one hill and were only a couple of miles from the prison when they stopped. Even then, they probably could have gotten away with it all if they hadn’t decided that the liquor that they had given the guard was the greatest thing ever made and a

gift from the Almighty. Unfortunately, this is what led them to deciding they were going to bless the world with as much of it as they possibly could and sent them into the moonshining business. Now, moonshine is one of those things that’s just going to happen around these parts. It just is. Some of it is pretty extraordinary. A lot of it isn’t. This wasn’t. The moonshine these men made might very well be the reason for lunar eclipses. But soon it was flowing through the valley and drawing people from all kinds of other little villages and towns who had been living dry and were ready to get a little damp. Any time there is that much unregulated liquor going around, there is going to be some drama. Well, this drama came in the form of two of the original escaped convicts having a disagreement over the direction of their moonshining business. This turned into having words and that turned into one of them dancing

naked on the roof of the old chapel that had been in those parts for goodness knows how long, twirling torches he had soaked in the most recent batch of his rival’s moonshine. The details of how exactly that happened are a little fuzzy, but what happened after isn’t. Once the man had been dancing for a while, the fumes of the moonshine torches got to him and he ended up falling off. The rest of the people who had started forming up the little village had no choice but to go for help and this meant that outsiders had to come in. The doctors came to scoop the man up and try to piece him back together and noticed that the whole place was full of moonshine. Like, seriously. Bathtubs. Buckets. The odd baby bottle. It was everywhere. Of course, the police swarmed the place and started gathering up the escapees and the other moonshiners. Most of them went fairly easily considering they had been drinking in vigil for their fallen comrade. Literally fallen, not dead. He

was pulling through pretty alright, though I hear that the fall caused a few injuries that made it far less likely that he was going to be doing any kind of naked dancing any time thereafter. A couple of those who were a bit more capable of handling their moonshine tried to fight off the posse, but all they had was a bunch of several-day old loaves of bread. They threw them and then tried to use them as swords. Clearly, this didn’t hold them off and the police had to take them in quite literally kicking and screaming. Around these parts, this is what’s thought of as the real Whiskey Rebellion. From then on, this little area was known as Whiskey Hollow. The Hollow might not be quite that adventurous anymore, but it’s still got its color. The vast majority of the people who are born there, stay there. It makes for some interesting characters. I’ll try to tell you about them some other time. I don’t know how much I can really say

without your parents getting upset with me. Maybe I’ll run some of the stories by them before I tell you. Maybe. At this point I’m still not sure if I even want either of them to see the Hollow. I don’t think they’d understand it. They might also worry about this being the first place that you call home, even if you’re contained safely within me and won’t have the chance to meet the likes of Sue Ellen Berry or Jeb Montaigne. I’ll be thinking about you tomorrow. Christopher has been called home for Thanksgiving, which is completely strange since his parents have spent the holiday on a cruise for the last 10 years, so of course they would choose this year to decide to give Norman Rockwell a run for their money. Tessie and I were invited to join them, but frankly the stories I’ve heard about that family make the Hollow look calm and sophisticated, so I don’t think that I’m prepared to handle it. Instead, Tessie is supposed to come here,

and we’ll eat and then usher in the Christmas season with some movies and approximately a gallon of egg nog. In honor of the potential of you, and since Christopher will not be there with us when the movies start, I won’t be adding any rum. Or moonshine for that matter. I hope you enjoy the turkey, mashed potatoes, and dressing. Those are my favorite. I’ll slip a few peas in there, too, just for the vitamins. Happy Thanksgiving Baby, Rue

Chapter Twelve

Richard

“Are you sure that this is the right place?” I peered out of the window at the scenery that was rushing past the limo as Abraham drove me further and further away from the city. It had been an hour already and it didn’t seem as though we were really getting any closer to any other civilization. “I’m using the GPS, sir.” “And this is where it’s telling you to go?” “That’s generally the purpose of a GPS, sir.” Since I had scheduled the moving crew for Rue to get her settled in I had the address of the home she was now living in, her grandmother’s

house. I hadn’t heard from her in the days since the procedure and I wanted to make sure that she was doing alright. I knew that she was without family and thought that she would appreciate some friendly company for Thanksgiving, but the further that we went, the more it seemed like an intrusion on her. Now that we seemed to be disappearing into the great unknown, I was questioning whether this was really the right choice. I should have invited her to spend the holiday with me rather than inviting myself over to her house. With us. Damn. I really needed to work on that. Just as I was losing all hope that we were getting anywhere near where Rue might be, I started seeing little buildings popping up in front of me. I wanted to be relieved, but I was seeing nothing taller than two stories and none of the buildings looked like houses.

“Is it another apartment?” I asked Abraham. I saw my driver shake his head in front of me and found myself hoping that the holiday bonus that I was planning on giving him when he dropped me back off at home was going to be worth his family having to push their dinner back by a few hours. “No, sir,” Abraham said. “This isn’t where Miss Rue lives. She’s in Whiskey Hollow. It’s still a few minutes down the road.” “Whiskey Hollow?” I asked. “Is that a real place?” “It is. This you’re seeing now is their version of downtown.” There was no judgement in Abraham’s voice, but I could feel the distaste rising in me the longer that we were in the town and then as we passed through and continued on.

She couldn’t be serious. This was where Rue lived? Finally, we passed a few houses and then Abraham pulled into an open gravel area in front of a house. I looked out over the parking area before I stepped out. Grass and tiny trees were peeking out from the gravel in so many areas that it looked more like a ragged section of yard that had been scattered heavily with gravel rather than a gravel section. “Is everything alright?” Abraham asked. “Oh,” I said, realizing that I didn’t know how long I had been dangling partway out of the limo looking at the parking area. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Will you wait for me? I’m going to make sure that she’s up for a visit. If she is, you can go on back and I’ll call you when I’m ready.” I climbed out of the car and reached back inside to take out the bundle of autumn flowers and

the sparkling grape juice that I had brought along with me. I heard Abraham squealing away even before I stepped up onto the porch. It was probably for the best. If I knew that he was waiting it was entirely possible that I wasn’t going to actually climb up onto the porch that looked like it was sagging a tad too much for my comfort, and instead go running back to the limo. In the back of my mind I knew that wasn’t true. I wanted to see Rue. I cautiously climbed up the stairs and reached out to press the doorbell. When I didn’t hear any ring from within the house, I knocked on the door. There was a scrambling of footsteps from inside and then I saw the curtains on the window beside the door rustle. Rue’s face appeared in the small gap that she created by pushing the fabric aside and I smiled at her. She did not smile in return.

Her face disappeared, and I heard footsteps coming toward the door. I waited for the sound of a lock, but didn’t hear one. Instead, the doorknob turned, and the door opened enough that she could peer out at me. Her hair hung on the sides of her face and there was a streak of flour on one cheek. I didn’t know that that actually happened to people when they cooked. I could see that she was wearing an apron over her clothes and it had various spots and splotches on it. Her eyes ran up and down me a few times and then she pushed her hair back behind her ear as though she were trying to make herself look more presentable. “Hi,” she said. “Did I forget an appointment today?” I shook my head. “Oh, no. No, you didn’t forget anything. I

was just…” I wanted to say, ‘in the neighborhood’ but I knew that that was beyond not feasible. “I hadn’t heard from you and I wanted to stop by and say hello and Happy Thanksgiving.” “Oh,” she said, “Happy Thanksgiving. Um,” she glanced over her shoulder at the house behind her, “would you like to come in?” I nodded, and she stepped aside, trying to brush herself off and straighten her appearance as she allowed me inside. The house was decidedly old with the entire building having a sense of settling around it, not as though it were going to fall over at any minute, but rather like it had lived a long life and was now tired and trying to rest. Warm, rich smells surrounded me, and I drew them into my lungs, for the first time realizing that I missed that. It had been five years since I had been home for Thanksgiving. Work schedules and obligations had kept me from being able to

celebrate most of the time, and the one year that I had cleared my schedule and planned to go home, Flora had complained so much that I ended up going home with her. Even then it didn’t feel like Thanksgiving. There they served soup, fish, and fruit, and instead of sitting by the fire at the end of the meal or even starting to decorate for Christmas, we ended up going out and playing a round on her father’s private golf course. It might have seemed like a nice tradition if it hadn’t felt like he was just trying to impress me and show that even though he didn’t have even half the wealth that I had achieved independently, not to mention what I had from my family, that their worth was still high enough to justify my guided attachment to Flora. That made the entire experience feel like a dog and pony show, which made me uncomfortable to say the least. Rue’s house didn’t feel like that, though. I could smell all of the traditional foods that I

remembered from when I was younger and there was a warmth in the space that I hadn’t felt since I was a child, perhaps not even then. I looked around myself for a moment before turning my attention back to her. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” I said. “I knew that you didn’t have any family, but I can tell you’ve been cooking. Your friends are probably here.” She started walking toward the kitchen before responding and I fell into step behind her. Taking her place at the stove, she leaned against the side and stirred a pot, adding a new layer of rich smells to the air. She sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as she stared into what she was cooking. “Actually, I’m alone today,” she said. “Christopher is with his family and Tessie was supposed to come over, but she woke up this morning with the flu. I told her that she should stay

at home and get some rest. I’ll bring some turkey soup by to her in a couple of days.” “It’s probably best for both of you that she’s not here,” I said, a bit of panic settling in my stomach. “You wouldn’t want to expose yourself to those kinds of germs.” She looked over her shoulder at me and nodded, the expression on her face telling me that she really didn’t need to hear my lecture. I squeezed my lips closed, determined that this wasn’t going to turn into an argument. I didn’t need another one of those today. I remembered the flowers that I was holding and stepped forward, holding them out to her. “Thank you,” she said, accepting them and tilting her face down into the golden, red, and orange blooms. “They’re beautiful.” “You’re welcome,” I said. “I also brought this,” I showed her the bottle of sparkling grape

juice. “Since you can’t have wine.” “Really?” she asked. “I thought that that was an old wives’ tale. And here I’ve been guzzling down bottles of moonshine and cooking wine all day. A little for the pot, a little for me.” My mouth fell open, but then I saw the sparkle in her eye and realized that she was teasing me. I could probably back off a bit. “I’m sorry to hear that your friend couldn’t be with you today,” I said. “If you’d like, I could send my doctor over to her house to check on her. Maybe bring her something that would make her feel better. I know that it’s going to be hard to get any kind of medical attention for the next few days.” She shook her head and reached up into a cabinet to pull down a glass jar which she filled with water. Settling the flowers into the jar, she tucked it onto the sill of a window that was open

just enough to release some of the cooking heat and bring in a crisp, leaf-scented breeze. “No, it’s alright. She’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want your doctor to miss his own family’s Thanksgiving dinner.” The way that she said your doctor made me feel like she was still teasing me, and I realized that the idea of a private doctor was something that she would have never experienced. “If you’re sure,” I said. “But if you find out that she’s doing worse, let me know. It really would be no problem.” I looked around the kitchen at the platters and plates filling the counter space and spilling out onto an old pink and black Formica table that had been pulled up to one side. “I’m sorry that you went to all this trouble to cook dinner for her and she wasn’t even able to join you.” Rue turned with the pot in her hand and

poured thick gravy into a gravy boat. “It’s no trouble,” she said. “I would have probably cooked this much even if Tessie hadn’t planned on coming over.” “You would have?” I asked, surprised at the revelation. Rue nodded. “Yeah. I’d like to say that it’s all because of the baby, but since we’re not even sure a baby’s in there, I don’t really think that I can pull that off.” “I’m sure,” I said. She looked up at me, her eyes soft and a tenderly startled expression on her face. “You are?” she asked quietly. I nodded. “I know,” I said. “I just know that it worked.

It’s like I can feel the baby’s presence.” It was something that I hadn’t admitted to anyone, but I felt comfortable enough in that moment to say it to her. “I can, too,” she said. We stared at each other, our eyes locked on one another so intensely I felt like everything else around us was blurred out of focus. The breath caught in my lungs and emotion churned in my belly. A sudden loud buzzing sound broke me out of the trance and I looked around, startled by the sound and worried that there was something wrong. “What’s that?” I asked, knowing my voice was higher than it usually was. Rue laughed and walked over to the oven, taking down an old timer and turning it off. “Haven’t you ever heard a kitchen timer?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No,” I admitted. She laughed again and settled the timer back into place. “It just means that the turkey is done resting.” “Did it work hard today?” I teased. Rue smiled and nodded as she disappeared around the corner of the refrigerator and then appeared a moment later carrying a platter with a perfect-looking turkey on it. “You know, it did. It worked really, really hard and I thought that it deserved a little bit of a break before dinner.” “You mean you eat this early?” I asked, taking the turkey from her and following her point toward another room off of the kitchen.

I settled the platter into the center of the table and went back into the kitchen. “Of course,” she said. “It’s Thanksgiving dinner. When would you eat it?” “Around six,” I said, remembering how strange it was when I ate with Flora’s family and they ate their pseudo-Thanksgiving meal in the early afternoon. “That would make it Thanksgiving supper,” she said, handing me a covered casserole. “There’s a difference?” I asked. “There is around here,” she said. “Dinner is the big meal in the middle of the day. That’s when you eat the main feast. Then comes dessert. Then by the time supper rolls around you’re picking at the cold leftovers while you chop them up for hash, soup, and sandwiches for the next day. Then it’s more pie and some egg nog to usher in Christmas.”

“So many holiday rules I didn’t know about,” I said. She carried another platter into the dining room and I followed her with the final two casseroles. “Oh, well, you can’t help it,” she said. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “It’s just that I can’t really imagine a man who shows up to someone’s house on Thanksgiving wearing a suit that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe put together has really had all too many warm and fuzzy home-for-the-holidays style Thanksgivings or Christmases.” I couldn’t really argue with her, but the thought that that was how she perceived me stung for reasons that I didn’t understand. She came into the room carrying two plates and a handful of silverware. She set them out at two places at the

table and gestured toward it. “You want me to join you?” I asked. “Of course,” she said, taking one of the chairs. “That’s why you came over, isn’t it?” “I came over to check on you, and so you would know that someone was thinking about you today,” I said. “I wouldn’t presume to think that you’d invite me to eat with you.” She looked at me like I had spoken a different language to her and gestured at the chair. “Sit down,” she said. “Like I said, I’d probably cook this much even without someone coming over, but that doesn’t mean that it’s good for me to try to eat it all myself. My appetite is something that I’ve never had to worry about, and I’m a bit concerned that this whole eating for two thing is going to have dire consequences for my waistline. You know, beyond just the whole bump

thing that’s going to happen.” I laughed and shook my head, holding out my plate to accept the slabs of turkey that she was offering me. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’re beautiful.” Oh, shit. Did I just say that? Rue was staring at me over the turkey and I tried to avoid her gaze as I reached for the spoon in the mashed potatoes. “Where’s Flora today?” she asked, obviously trying to cover up my comment. “She, too, has taken ill,” I said, though the tone of my voice expressed just how much I actually believed that Flora was suffering from anything more than a temper tantrum. “Oh, really?” she asked. “That’s a shame.”

“Mmmmm,” I said. By now my plate had more on it than I had eaten in about a week, but I was excited to dig into it. I finished with a drizzle of the gravy that I had watched Rue make and picked up my fork. I took a bite, groaning at the flavors that filled my mouth. I had piled so much together that I wasn’t even sure what it was that I was tasting, but it was unlike anything that I had ever tasted. “This is incredible,” I said when I swallowed my fifth bite. “I’m glad you like it,” Rue said. “Most of these were my Grammyma’s recipes.” “Grammyma?” I asked. “My grandmother,” I said. “This was her house. It was actually her parents’ before her. I grew up here.” “You did?” I asked.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” she asked. “It’s just…” I tried to come up with the right words. “I just don’t see you as part of this.” Rue narrowed her eyes at me. “What do you mean by that?” “Meeting you in the city I could see an intelligence and sophistication about you that just doesn’t seem to fit in around here.” “Excuse me?” she asked. The happiness that I had been feeling started to fade as I realized that I had offended her. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to…can we just kind of move past what I said?” She glared at me for a few seconds and then took another towering bite of the food on her plate. I felt my muscles relax.

By the time we finished eating, I felt like I was going to burst, but when she offered me a slice of fresh sweet potato pie I knew that I couldn’t resist. We walked into the living room and settled onto one of the worn old couches that nearly filled the space. Rue curled her legs under herself and settled her plate of pie on her knees, smiling as she took a bite. “This was always one of my favorite things that my Grammyma made during the holidays,” she told me. I took a bite and nodded. “It’s delicious,” I said. We ate in silence for a few moments and then she looked at me as if she wanted to say something, then shook her head slightly and looked back down at her pie. “What?” I asked. “Did you want to say

something?” She looked at me again, her expression saying that she was thinking about something. She shook her head again. “No,” she said. “I shouldn’t.” “What?” I asked. “Go ahead. What did you want to say?” Rue took another bite of her pie. “Why aren’t you and Flora married?”

Chapter Thirteen

Rue

Richard didn’t respond as aggressively as I would have thought that he would have. I actually didn’t know what to expect when I asked the question, but the quiet, contemplative look that he got didn’t seem to fit. I hadn’t really intended to ask that question. It wasn’t any of my business and one of the things that my Grammyma always taught me was that you should mind your own biscuits. At that moment, however, considering I could be carrying Richard’s biscuit around in my oven I figured that I had a little bit more leeway in learning about him than I might with just any other person. “Um,” he said, his fork swirling around in the whipped cream on his plate. “I don’t really know.”

“Do you want to marry her?” “I don’t know.” I looked at him sharply. He seemed just as surprised at himself for giving the answer that I was for hearing it. He stumbled over himself for a few seconds, his eyes flickering from the pie to my face and back to the pie a few times. “Why don’t you know?” I asked. I’m already this deep. I might as well just keep on digging. Richard sighed, and I felt like he had been holding that sigh in for far longer than just the few seconds since I asked the question. “Have you ever felt like you don’t know where a big part of your life went? Like you woke up and your life has happened, and you didn’t really have any part of it? And now you’re just kind of there and you don’t know what you’re supposed

to do about it?” Well, that’s not the type of answer that I thought I was going to get. “I’m not sure what you mean.” “I didn’t think you would.” He sighed again. “Flora and I have always known each other. Literally. Always. Our families have known each other for years and I was only a few years old when she was born, so I don’t remember a time without her. It has always just kind of been assumed that we would end up together. I didn’t really think about it much when I was younger. Even though we were expected to be together, nobody really thought much of us dating other people as long as we went to social occasions together and knew that eventually we would pair off exclusively. Before I knew it, though, that happened. Suddenly her mother was talking wedding venues and our fathers were discussing the ways that our merger would

benefit their companies.” “Merger?” I asked. “And you can see the type of romance that characterizes our relationship.” “So why do you go along with it?” I asked. “If you don’t want to be with her, why are you? And why are you trying to have a child with her?” “We’ve been together for so long that I can’t really imagine anything else. She understands my lifestyle. She understands my culture. She knows that my work is the primary focus of my life right now so she’s not the type of woman who expects me to be at home at a certain time every night or to be able to take the weekends off to spend fixing up the house.” “Somehow, I don’t think that you spend a lot of time fixing up your house,” I said. “That’s true,” he said. “But you know what I

mean. Flora understands the type of marriage that I would be able to handle and that is expected of both of us. That takes pressure off and I guess I’m comfortable with that idea.” “That doesn’t sound like much of a marriage,” I said. “I guess it wouldn’t to someone who’s never seen it. But it’s what we know.” “If you don’t even have time for a wife, why do you want a child? Babies are a lot of work and you can’t just tell them that you aren’t going to be home or that you can’t spend time with them. Well, I suppose you could, but that wouldn’t make you a very good father, and then what would the point be of even having a baby?” “It’s going to be different when the baby gets here,” he said. “I’ve already committed to cutting down on my work and spending more time together as a family. I’ve wanted a baby for a long time. I

want a family and for a chance to be a dedicated father. I know that now is the right time to have a child.” “But if that’s so perfect for you, why haven’t you done it? Wouldn’t it make sense to just go ahead and get married before you have a child?” “I’ve asked myself the same thing.” “And have you answered yourself yet?” He shook his head. “I guess not.” I stood and took his empty pie plate from him to carry them into the kitchen. “Would you want to take a walk?” I asked. “Try to work off some of this Thanksgiving dinner?” “Gearing up for Thanksgiving supper and Christmas dessert?” he asked.

I laughed. “Exactly. It’s just something that my grandmother and father and I used to do every Thanksgiving. We’d walk around and visit with the neighbors that might be outside. If we’re lucky we’ll get a chance to see some people putting out their Christmas decorations. The Christmas bowls are something that nobody should miss.” “The Christmas bowls?” Richard’s voice followed me upstairs to where I was changing into warmer clothes and doing my level best to get my hair under control. How is it that I have seen this man only a handful of times and two of them involved me looking like the hottest of the hot messes. I should have at least put on clothes rather than yoga pants and an old sweatshirt. It was Thanksgiving, after all. Didn’t people usually look fancy for the holiday? The fanciest my family ever got was my papa putting on

his best ugly Christmas sweater by the end of dessert. I squeezed into my skinny jeans, knowing full well that if the baby had stuck I wasn’t going to be able to wear them again within the next few weeks. I wanted to give them a fond farewell while I still had the chance. Dropping a thick sweater over my head, I tucked into my favorite ugly moccasins and headed back downstairs. Richard was standing by the door with his jacket folded over his arm and smiled at me as I walked down the stairs toward him. I felt a flicker of the sense that this was more than just two people walking off their sweet potato pie, but I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t let my mind go there. That dream had been plenty, and I couldn’t let myself even entertain the thought of any more. Richard followed me out of the house and paused at the front door. I had gone down the first two steps before noticing that he wasn’t following me. I turned and looked at him.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. “Aren’t you going to lock the door?” he asked. “We’re just going for a walk,” I said. He looked at the door. “You’re not going to lock it?” “Richard, you aren’t in the city anymore. Half the people in Whiskey Hollow don’t even have keys to their houses. The last time that there was a break-in here it was Jeb Montaigne, he was drunk, and he had wandered into the old barn at the Galloway farm thinking that it was his grandpa’s house. They found him cuddling with a tractor fast asleep.” “That’s not exactly the crime of the century.” “No.” He relented and came down the stairs. We

started through the Hollow, the cool air of the afternoon spiraling around us and bringing with it the distinctive smells of outdoor-fried turkeys, pies, and dressing. “Hi, there, Rue!” I heard Cletus’s voice before I saw him running toward me through his yard. When I did catch sight of him I saw that he was carrying two ears of corn, freshly grilled and dripping with butter. He held them out to Richard and me. “Hi, Cletus,” I said. “Happy Thanksgiving.” I took one of the ears of corn. “Thank you. I’ll have your pumpkin muffins for you this evening. You come on by and get them for breakfast tomorrow.” “I’ll do that.” I bit down into the corn and looked at Richard, who was still staring at the ear that Cletus was holding out to him.

“Richard, this is Cletus. Nobody makes better corn than he does.” Richard shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly,” Richard said. “I’m so full I don’t think I could eat another bite.” Cletus looked hurt and I felt a flicker of embarrassment. “Alright,” Cletus said. “Well, you two have a nice walk. Rue, I’ll be seeing you later.” I nodded at Cletus, told him to bring my best to his family, and we continued on. “You don’t like corn?” I asked. “It’s not that,” Richard said. “I said I was full.” “Yeah, you said it. That doesn’t mean that I believe you for a second. I lived in the city and worked in the corporate world for long enough to

be able to recognize diplomatic bullshit when I hear it.” Richard looked surprised, but I didn’t really care. I was back in the Hollow and that meant that I was rapidly shedding the polish that I had piled on to try to fit in better when I relocated. It might not be something that I was always proud of, but it was who I was, and I wasn’t going to hide it, especially in situations when it seemed so appropriate. “I’m just not used to strangers running out of their homes and handing me food,” he said. There was a distinct tone of derision in his voice and I felt myself bristle. “He’s only a stranger to you,” I said. “I’ve known Cletus my entire life and I can’t even tell you how many ears of that corn he’s brought me.” “I’m sorry,” Richard said. “I didn’t handle that properly.”

We kept going and soon Richard pointed out a house to the side. “Looks like we’re lucky,” he said. “Christmas decorations. Of course, they look like they’re up all year long, so I don’t know if they really count. That does make getting a jump on your festivities easier.” I knew he was trying to be funny, but I didn’t find any humor in the comment. I was feeling more and more judged the further that we went, and I didn’t like the feeling. I found my feet moving faster as we kept going, as if I was trying to get the walk over with sooner. We made the wide turn that would bring us through a loop leading back to my house and I saw Sue Ellen up ahead. She was sitting on the front porch like she did every Thanksgiving, churning butter. “Hi, Sue Ellen!” I called up to her. She looked up, wiped her forehead with the

back of her arm, and smiled at me as she waved. “Hi, Rue! Are you having a happy Thanksgiving?” “I am,” I said. “You?” “Sure am. When are your fruitcakes going to be ready?” “Next week. I’ll have one by to you.” “Thank you. It’s good to have you home.” I waved, and we continued on. “Fruitcake?” Richard asked, sounding dumbfounded. I nodded. “Yes. I make them every year. I start them in October and they soak in brandy until after Thanksgiving.” “You seriously give people fruitcake? I knew

that you must have run away from here because you didn’t like the people, but I didn’t think that you hated them that much.” He chuckled, but I didn’t find the crack amusing. “I don’t hate these people,” I said. “Where do you get off saying something like that?” “You’re the one who told me that you got out of here as fast as you could, and now I see why. Why don’t you let me get you another apartment in the city? It will be much more comfortable for you.” “I don’t want another apartment in the city,” I said. “If I wanted an apartment in the city, I would have kept the one that I already had. I moved out here for a reason, and I don’t need your approval.” “Well, you kind of do. If you are pregnant, I

do expect a say in your lifestyle, so I can make sure that you’re taking care of my child properly.” “You might get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t eat or drink, and you might be able to make me go to some ridiculous medical center that you splashed out on because you’re just too good to use the hospitals that other people do, but you can’t tell me where to live.” “I’m sorry, Rue,” Richard said, looking around. “But seriously. That woman was churning butter. Churning butter. Aren’t there stores in this place?” “This place?” I asked. “Do you seriously have your head that far up your ass? Yes, Sue Ellen was churning butter. She does it every year, just like her mother did, her grandmother did, her greatgrandmother did, and her great-great-grandmother did. Using that churn. She treats it and preserves it just like they did. Then she molds it and sells it to

people Christmas shopping. It’s a family tradition and there are many people in these parts who look forward to her butter every year. As for Cletus’s corn, I would think that someone who was raised in as much of a society-obsessed glass bubble as you were would have some concept of etiquette and manners. He grew that corn himself. He harvested it, probably within the last two days. And he grilled it. He wasn’t just offering you a road snack. That was a piece of him, a piece of the hospitality that you don’t seem to care about in the least. The least you could have done was take it from him. This place might have a total net worth that is equal to your monthly earnings and we might not have the same lofty standards of living that you do, but at least we care about each other and don’t go around hurting people because we think it’s funny, or we think we’re better than everyone else. Whether you like it or not, Richard, this is my home. Now, I’m going to go back to my house, clean up, and watch

movies. Alone. Happy Thanksgiving.” I took a few steps toward the house and then whirled around to face him again. “And I’ll have you know that my fruitcake is fucking delicious.” I stalked back to the house not even caring if he was following me, hoping that he wasn’t. I didn’t want to see his face. I felt angry and disgusted, but more than that, I felt an unexpected, and possibly unwarranted, sense of disappointment. I didn’t know what I should have expected. He was a spoiled, entitled man with wealth completely beyond even my wildest dreams. It wasn’t so far of a leap to imagine that he was going to be conceited, arrogant, and self-righteous as well. Seeing it, though, had been painful. I thought, somehow, that he was going to be different. I thought that there was something about him that made him unlike the other wealthy men I had encountered in my career. But even those men were only moderately

comfortable compared to Richard. If they could only see the world through the warped prism of their own perspective and see anyone else as below them, I didn’t know why I would expect any less from Richard. I knew now that I had only been imagining the connection that I thought I felt building between us, and that there would never be anything more than a business relationship. It was a relief, really. I had to tell myself that. Finding out about this now meant that I wouldn’t go through the entire pregnancy, if there was one at all, thinking that we could be friends or forming any type of attachment to him. When the baby was born, I could simply hand it over to them, sign the final paperwork, and be done with it. There would be no uncomfortable parting of ways or pretending that we would keep up with each other even though we both knew full well that we wouldn’t. Knowing this about him made things much easier.

As I stomped up the stairs into the house and slammed the door behind me, I thought again about what he told me about Flora and their relationship. As much as my heart had ached for him when he first told me about it, I felt almost vindicated now. I could see in him exactly what would make that type of marriage work for him. Flora was perfect for him. Chilly, distant, and always looking at the world knowing that it wasn’t anywhere good enough for them. The tears didn’t start burning in my eyes until I had finished the first sink of dishes and dropped one of the plates of the second load before getting it into the soapy water. I slid down and sat on the floor, collecting the pieces into a pile and feeling like I was trying to collect the pieces of myself. Suddenly what Richard had said about why he didn’t want to marry Flora sank in and I realized that I knew exactly what he meant. Part of me always knew that Whiskey Hollow was my home

and I was never really going to be completely away from it, but moving back had been such a sudden decision that there had been mornings when I woke up and couldn’t remember for a few minutes why I was there or when I had arrived. And did anyone really deserve Flora?

Chapter Fourteen

Richard

Rue wouldn’t even make eye contact with me as we sat in the examination room waiting for the doctor to come in with the test results. Flora stood beside me, her hand rested almost possessively on my back, and there was a chilly silence in the room around us. I had wanted to apologize to Rue ever since Thanksgiving, but I hadn’t been able to find a time to call her when Flora wasn’t right there in the room with me. It was almost as though she knew that I wanted to do something that she likely wouldn’t approve of and was hovering close by to either prevent me from doing it, or in order to catch me as soon as I did. She still didn’t know that I had spent the holiday with Rue. I had been so frustrated with her

patented sick act that she dragged out any time that something wasn’t going her way or when she wanted attention that I had just left the house. By the time that I had returned she had made a miraculous recovery and was eating sushi in the living room completely devoid of any type of holiday cheer. It was still like that and she still hadn’t bothered to ask what I had been doing. I wasn’t going to volunteer the information. That didn’t change, though, that I wanted desperately to sit down with Rue and try to apologize, try to make amends for offending her. Though I still couldn’t for the life of me understand why she would purposely put herself through living somewhere like that, I knew that it had been wrong of me to openly criticize it. We didn’t know each other well enough for my attempts at humor to appeal to her. Were they attempts at humor, or was I really

that much of an ass? When she came into the medical center that morning she hadn’t acknowledged me. There had been consistent silence amongst the three of us from the time that we walked in until now, and while Flora seemed entirely comfortable with it, I was starting to dread the possibility of facing nine more months of this. Finally, the door clicked open and Dr. Morgan stepped inside, carrying a folder. He looked at each of us for a few seconds and then smiled. That smile told me everything and I felt my heart swelling before he even began to speak. “Congratulations,” he said. “Rue is pregnant.”

**** Rue

Everything around me got fuzzy and I felt suddenly dizzy. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. Though it was exactly what we had wanted to find out at this appointment, actually hearing those words sent a shock through me, hitting me unexpectedly hard as though somewhere deep inside myself I hadn’t really allowed my mind or my heart to believe that it was even a possibility. It was like I had just assumed that it wasn’t going to work. After the disaster of Thanksgiving it seemed that it would be the appropriate continuation of things that we would find out that the insemination hadn’t stuck, and we would go our separate ways; them to find another woman whose womb wouldn’t betray them, and me to figure out some other way that I was going to save Grammyma’s house. But that’s not what happened. I’m pregnant.

I turned and looked at Richard. He was staring at me, his eyes sparkling. I felt everything that had happened fall away and all I saw was the man I had met, the man who I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind. We smiled at each other and before I realized what I was doing, I was on my feet, closing the space between us as he did the same. He gathered me into his arms and hugged me close. I filled my lungs with the scent of him, closing my eyes so I could memorize it. He suddenly took a step back, patting my shoulders as if he was worried that he’d done something wrong and was trying to put me back together. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you OK?” “She’s fine,” Dr. Morgan said with a slight laugh. “She’s not breakable, I promise. We’ve gotten through the first hurdle. The procedure worked, and Rue is officially pregnant. Your baby is happily growing and has actually gotten through

a few key phases of development already. Now we move forward. This is just the beginning.” “So, what now?” Flora asked, bringing a stark end to the doctor’s speech. Until that moment I had forgotten that she was even in the room and now that I remembered I felt a dampening of my happiness. I wished that Richard and I could just experience this together. “Now we decide how to proceed. Rue can either be under my care or the care of one of the midwives.” “Midwife,” I said promptly, not giving Flora a chance to interject even though I could see in her face that she was getting ready to say something. “I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me so far, Doctor, but I’d like to have a midwife, if that’s an option.” “Of course, that’s an option. We can start

you under her care in just a few weeks, once a bit more development has happened. For now, just relax. Enjoy the news. If you notice any signs of problems, such as bleeding, cramping, or dizziness, come in as fast as you can. Other than that, I’ll set you up for your first meeting with the midwife in January.” “January?” Richard asked, sounding slightly frantic. “Why that far?” “Because there’s really nothing that we can do until then,” Dr. Morgan said. “The baby has plenty of growing to do, and until around the middle of January, we won’t be able to even see a heartbeat. After that, I promise things will get more exciting. So just go on home. Enjoy the holidays. Start thinking of a fun way to announce your pregnancy on Valentine’s Day. Congratulations again.” My heart fluttered in my chest.

Valentine’s Day. Could it be more perfect? Or less perfect? I was having a hard time deciding.

**** Richard

Valentine’s Day. Could there be a better way to celebrate than to tell everyone I’m going to be a father? …Maybe one. We walked out of the medical center and Flora glared at Rue. All pretext was gone now, and I doubted that there was ever going to be anything but this type of uneasiness between them. “Make sure that you’re following the diet that I gave you,” she demanded. “I don’t want this baby being born with a food addiction or already behind in the fight against childhood obesity.

Besides,” she looked Rue up and down, scrutinizing her, “there’s no real point in you getting fat, is there? You won’t have a built-in excuse once the baby’s born.” “Flora!” I scolded, but she didn’t seem to care. She simply turned and stalked toward the car. I turned to Rue. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was really uncalled for.” “Everything about her is uncalled for,” Rue said. “And that’s fine. I’m not doing this for her. I’m doing it for you. And only for you.” My heart filled, and I smiled at her. “I’m so happy,” I said. “And I’m so happy for you. I promise I will do everything I can to be the very best home for your baby until its born.” I nodded.

“I know you will.” I could hear Flora shouting at me from the car, but I ignored her. Nothing was going to ruin the joy that I was feeling that day. “I guess I’ll see you in January?” Rue asked. My happiness sank just slightly. That sounded so far away. “I was hoping that I might get a chance to see you over Christmas,” I said. Rue glanced around me toward Flora’s voice and shook her head. “I don’t think that that would be the best idea,” she said. “I can’t imagine that Flora would be too delighted to have me around for the holidays.” I nodded. I understood where she was coming from. If I was her, I wouldn’t want to give

up my Christmas to spend time with Flora, either. And after the way I behaved the last time that I was there, I couldn’t imagine that she would be too keen on inviting me back to her home any time soon. Feeling the urge to hug her one more time, I gathered Rue tightly to me, but stepped away sooner than I would have wanted to. I looked at her still-flat belly, nearly laughing at myself for thinking that somehow, she should look different even though the baby was still barely a speck. “Go ahead,” Rue said, as if she could read my mind. I reached forward and touched my fingertips to her stomach, imagining that somehow my baby could sense that I was there. This was something that I had wanted for so long, and now it was happening. With all of the emotions coursing through me I didn’t know how to feel in that moment, but all I knew was that, at least for that

second, I was glad to be sharing it with Rue.

Chapter Fifteen

Rue

Dear Baby, Hello. You’re there. I know you are. The doctor told me that you are. But I still can’t believe it. I’ve been thinking about you for weeks now, but now that I know that you are really real it’s hard to wrap my brain around it. I wish that I had taken a picture of your daddy’s face when he heard the news. It was a look of such pure, unfiltered, unadulterated joy and love. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a look like that. You truly are so precious already and you will only get more so the longer you grow and the closer you get to being here. I get to meet with my midwife for the first

time in the middle of January. More than a month away. It seems like it will take forever to get here. I didn’t realize that there was going to be such a long wait in between appointments. I guess I never really had any reason to think about it, but I always imagined that pregnant women were at the doctor or the midwife all the time. Checking in, making sure everything was going alright. Apparently not. Apparently, it’s more like…oh, you’re pregnant…awesome…go away and go about your life for a while. I feel like I’m just kind of drifting around here. You’re in there and I’m set on protecting you, but I don’t have anyone around to tell me how to do it or even if I’m doing alright. The time will pass. I just have to keep telling myself that. The time will go by and then I can go in and meet with the midwife and by that point we’ll get to hear your tiny little heart beating. That amazes me more than I will ever be able to tell you. Right now, you are there. You exist. You

are alive. But your heart isn’t beating yet. My heart is literally beating for you. But in just a few weeks you will have a heart all your own that is beating. You have only existed for a couple of weeks, but you are already amazing. Christmas is coming soon. I know that you won’t be able to enjoy it this year, but I promise you next year is going to be incredible. I can’t even imagine what types of magic your parents will cook up for you. I can promise you that I will always think about you at Christmas. I’ll never forget this one Christmas that we got to spend together. Grow well, little one. There are people who already love you and can’t wait to meet you.

Rue

**** “Sip slowly.” “Christopher, I’m fine.” “You’re not fine, you’re pregnant!” “Pregnancy is not a disease. I’m fine. I’m so fine they don’t even want to see me at the medical center again until January. That’s when I’ll meet my midwife.” “Midwife?” Tessie asked, her voice suddenly slipping back to a time in her life when she wasn’t quite as cultured as she was now. “What do you mean midwife?” “You know what a midwife is,” I said. “I’ve decided that that’s the type of care that I want during this whole experience.” It had been a little more than a week since I got official confirmation that I was pregnant, and I

was sitting in Tessie’s living room stringing cranberries and popcorn for her tree. She had opted for an old-fashioned Christmas this year, completely casting aside the silver, black, and white scheme that we had used the year before in favor of cozy plaids, handmade ornaments, and a live tree that was making her sneeze so much I could only imagine that she was going to be dead by New Year’s. Christopher had just handed me a mug of egg nog, a distinct departure from the stemmed glasses of last year’s festivities, and was urging me to imbibe gradually as to not drown the baby, or something. I hadn’t fully followed his logic. “You’re going to go through all of that?” he asked. “What did you think was going to happen? I was just going to lay there, and they were going to squish my belly and make the baby come out?” “Not exactly,” he said. “Maybe more like

they were just going to knock you out cold and when you woke up the baby would be gone.” “That’s a depressing thought,” I said. “Why?” Tessie asked. “I would think that would be easier. No pain. No tearful goodbye.” “I’m going to have a tearful goodbye right now if you don’t stop talking about this,” I said. “I’m sorry,” Christopher said. “It’s just that I can’t imagine going through so much, especially the whole natural birth approach, for a baby that isn’t even yours.” I felt tears spring to my eyes and set my mug down, turning my attention back to the strand of fruit and popcorn on my lap. “It’s what’s best for the baby,” I said. “I’ll be more in control and it won’t get any of those drugs in it during the delivery. Women who have midwives recover faster, too, so I’ll be able to go on

afterwards much sooner.” “Is Richard going to be there in the room with you when the baby is born?” Tessie asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “We haven’t talked about it.” “Do you want him to be?” “I don’t know. Can we stop talking about this?” I was suddenly overwhelmed and didn’t want to be sitting there anymore. I stood up sharply and immediately felt my head start swimming. Everything around me blurred and I reached out to grab something to stabilize me, but didn’t feel anything. Somewhere in the distance I thought I heard Tessie scream, but the darkness was closing around me too quickly to know what she was saying.

The next thing I knew my eyes were fluttering open to the bright, flashing lights of an ambulance. I could feel myself sliding and it took a few seconds for me to realize that I was on a gurney being rolled toward the back of the ambulance by two emergency responders. I tried to sit up, but straps across my legs and shoulders kept me in place, immediately starting a feeling of panic in my chest. “Let me up,” I said. “Just lay back, Miss,” one of the EMTs said. “We’re going to help you.” “Let me up,” I insisted. The gurney bounced over the edge of the ambulance and suddenly I was in the back surrounded by gleaming metal and bright lights. I looked down and saw Tessie and Christopher standing outside, their eyes wide with fear.

“Richard,” I shouted to them. “Get Richard.” “Who’s Richard?” one of the EMTs asked. “The father of her baby,” Tessie said. “Well, it’s not really her baby,” Christopher interjected. “It’s definitely his, and I mean technically, technically, biologically, it’s her baby, too, but…” Tessie slapped her hand over Christopher’s mouth to muffle him and he fell silent. “Do you want to be brought to the hospital?” another EMT asked. “We need your consent now that you’re awake.” Not something a woman ever wants to hear when she’s tied down to a bed. “No,” I said. “I don’t want to be brought to the hospital. I’m under care at a private medical facility. I need to go there.”

“I’m sorry, we can’t transport you anywhere but the hospitals that we have contracts with. If you want to go somewhere else, you’re going to need to get out of the ambulance.” “Then I’m going to need you to untie me.” Part of me thought that I might be making a mistake, that I should probably just let them bring me wherever they could, but I knew that Richard had gone to extensive trouble to create the medical facility so that I would get the best of care. Even though I had only been there for two appointments so far, including the procedure itself, I felt strangely accustomed to that care and as though I couldn’t really trust anyone else with his baby. So, after the EMTs released me from the bed, I climbed carefully down and into Tessie’s waiting arms, allowing her to support me as she guided me back into her house. “What are you doing?” Christopher asked.

“You need to go to the hospital.” I shook my head. “I’m alright. I think I just stood up too fast. I’m going to call Richard and tell him what happened, and then if he wants me to be seen, he can come get me and bring me to the medical center.” We went back inside, and I excused myself to the restroom. Moments later the need to call him felt far more urgent.

**** Richard

Please no. Please no. Please no. Please no. I had never felt so helpless as I did in that

moment. I hadn’t even bothered to try to get Abraham, preferring instead to save the time and drive myself to the medical center, but even being behind the wheel of the car myself wasn’t enough to make me feel in control of what was happening. The call from Rue’s friend Tessie had been so frantic that I had barely been able to understand what she was saying, but I had gotten enough out of her to understand that Rue had passed out and was now bleeding. She had refused an ambulance, but I insisted that Tessie take her directly to the facility rather than wait for me. Now I was trying to get there, desperate to be at her side, terrified of what I was going to find out when I got there. The traffic around me was infuriating and I found myself wanting to ram the people in front of me to get them out of my way. The drive from my house to the medical center was less than five miles but it felt like it was taking an eternity to arrive. When I finally did, I pulled my car right up to the

entrance and jumped out, not even noticing if I actually turned off the ignition and not really caring. If someone wandered by, noticed the car, and wanted to take it, they were welcome to it. There were plenty more where that one came from and I had no issue replacing it. I burst through the doors and was met by a nurse who escorted me toward an emergency examination room without greeting. When I got to the door, she paused, and we stared at the closed door for a beat. There was no sound coming through and I didn’t know if I was relieved about that or if that made me more afraid. Finally, I lifted my hand and knocked. “Come in.” I followed Dr. Morgan’s voice and entered the room. He was standing at the end of the bed where Rue lay, her knees bent up and her body covered with a pink blanket. She didn’t turn to look

at me. Instead, she seemed focused intently on something in front of the doctor. I walked up to the side of the bed and noticed that his hand was tucked beneath the blanket and that he was staring at the same thing that held Rue’s attention. It was what looked like a computer screen and on it was a fuzzy grey image. I took a step to the side to get a better look, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to understand what I was seeing. “What is that?” I asked. “What’s going on?” “That,” Dr. Morgan said, reaching up and touching a finger to something white on the screen that looked vaguely like a Tic-Tac. “Is your baby.” “My baby?” I asked, leaning against the bed. “Is it alright?” I felt my hand touch Rue’s and her fingers shifted, causing mine to intertwine with hers. I squeezed them lightly, wanting to find as much comfort in her touch as I wanted to give her in

mine. “It is,” the doctor said. “What Rue experienced is frightening, but it’s not all that out of the ordinary for early pregnancy. In fact, some women experience so much spotting in the early weeks that they think that they have had their period and don’t actually realize that they are pregnant until they are in their second trimester. As for passing out, I’m guessing that’s just a good oldfashioned case of nerves and some dehydration. I’m going to give her some fluids and let her rest here for a while, then she’ll be just fine to go home.” The doctor withdrew an instrument from under the blanket and brought the blanket down further to cover Rue the rest of the way. The image on the screen disappeared and I felt a hint of sadness that I couldn’t look at it anymore. The doctor walked out of the room and I waited until

the door closed to look down at Rue. “I’m sorry,” she said. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t be sorry.” “I worried you and brought you all the way out here so late and it was for nothing.” “You didn’t worry me,” I told her. She looked up at me. “You scared the living hell out of me.” Her head hung, and I reached over to take her chin in my hand and turn her face toward me. “But I’m glad that you had Tessie call me. You’ve never been through this before, neither of us have, how were you supposed to know that everything was fine? If you hadn’t called or come in and I found out later that you had passed out and then had bleeding, I would’ve be really upset.” We looked at each other and the fear that had been in the room dissipated. I stroked her

cheek softly with my thumb and Rue turned her face slightly into the touch. My heart was pounding again, shivering in my chest, but for a completely different reason. I could feel my mouth watering and I licked my suddenly dry lips. Rue did the same and I felt myself leaning toward her almost involuntarily, as if magnetized to her. Behind me the door opened, and I jumped away from her, the appearance of the nurse with Rue’s IV snapping me back into reality. I stepped out of the room to draw in a few breaths and when I went back in, the IV was in place and Rue was resting back against the pillow, her eyes closed. I walked up to her side again and looked down at her. She was so beautiful. Even lying there looking so vulnerable, her makeup streaked down her face carried with tears that she undoubtedly cried out of fear as she made her way here, not knowing what was happening, unsure of what she was going to find out when she arrived.

She opened her eyes and looked up at me. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “Of course,” I said. “I’m here. If you ever need me. For anything. Ever. I’m here.” She smiled, but then let out a long sigh. “I am not looking forward to the drive back home tonight.” “Then don’t go.” “I have to. Tessie and Christopher both have to work tomorrow. It’s too late for me to go back to either of their houses. I guess I could get a hotel, but finding one with vacancies this late is going to be a hassle.” Suddenly her face scrunched up and I felt a stab of panic go through me. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Does something hurt? Do you need the doctor?”

I was getting ready to call out to Dr. Morgan when Rue shook her head, her face relaxing. “No. Nothing’s hurting. I just realized that my car is still at Tessie’s. I drove it over there, but she drove me here. I don’t even have a way to get to a hotel even if I could make a reservation.” “So, come with me,” I said. “That would work,” she said. “You can bring me to the hotel and then tomorrow Tessie can meet me there in my car and I’ll bring her back home on my way home.” “No,” I said. “I mean come home with me.” Rue looked at me sharply, some of the color draining from her face. “What?” she asked. “Come home with me,” I said. “Like you said, it’s late. The hotels might be booked, and even

if they aren’t, that would mean finding one, going through check-in, dealing with other guests. That’s a lot of fuss to go through when you could just come back to my house and stay in the guest wing. You wouldn’t have to check in, the room service is exceptional, and I promise you can have late check-out without any of the maids knocking on your door.” I meant it as a joke, but it fell flat as Rue looked at me with an expression in her eyes that said she imagined that might actually happen and I was going to have to make special arrangements with the staff to make sure that it didn’t. Which was actually true. “I don’t know,” she said, sounding uneasy. “Do you think that’s appropriate? I wouldn’t want to impose.” “It’s no imposition,” I insisted. “You wouldn’t even have to interact with me at all if you

didn’t want to. The guest wing has all of its own facilities and features, so you could completely relax, and no one would bother you. Stay just the night or stay for a few days. Please? It really would make me feel better.” Rue still looked uncertain, but finally she nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.” “It’s my pleasure,” I said. “Don’t mention it.” Especially to Flora. Let me take on that fallout myself. “The nurse said that I might be here for another couple of hours,” she said. “Perfect. I’ll go home and get everything ready for you and then I’ll be back to pick you up. Try to relax some. Everything is going to be alright

now.”

Chapter Sixteen

Rue

What the hell did I just agree to? I watched Richard walk out of the room and let my head fall back against the pillows, reaching up with the hand that wasn’t attached to the IV to rub my forehead. Why did it seem like every time this man opened his mouth I went along with something that I knew for damn sure was a bad idea? I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on relaxing and letting my body absorb the fluids gradually dripping into me. I felt ridiculous ending up in the hospital because I hadn’t had enough to drink and had gotten myself so worked up about the whole situation that I passed out. At the same

time, though, the fear that I had felt when I started to get dizzy and then when I saw the blood was unlike any fear that I had ever experienced. It was a sense of terror and dread that reached all the way inside me and made me feel like I was turning inside out. I couldn’t describe the emotions that coursed through me or the thoughts that raced in my mind as Tessie herded me into her car. My fingers were shaking so hard that I couldn’t dial the phone and my brain was so frantic that I couldn’t remember how to find his number even if I had been able to dial, so she had to call Richard. All I could do was sit by and listen as she tried to form the words, tried to tell him what had happened and ask him to get to the medical center. It had been only days. Only days since we found out that I was pregnant, and I had seen that look of joy on his face, and I was terrified that something horrible had happened. Now as I lay in the medical center trying to let my body recover, I

felt a tremendous sense of gratitude, both toward the doctor and nurses that had been here for me to help me through this situation, and for Richard. I could only imagine the chaotic, hectic environment that I would have found myself in had I had to go to a normal hospital. This medical center meant that I didn’t have to wait, I didn’t have to contend with the prying eyes and straining ears of anyone else around me, and I got the full, undivided, and unrushed attention of literally everyone in the building. Though the entire concept of building a private medical center for me to use during my pregnancy had seemed outlandish when I first heard about it, I was indescribably thankful for it now. This baby deserved nothing short of the best, and that is what this center would provide for it. Now all I had to do was figure out how I was going to handle being in Richard’s home. I couldn’t believe that I had accepted his

offer. I knew when Tessie brought me to the center that she wasn’t going to be able to stay with me, even though she wanted to. It was already late, and she needed to get some sleep so that she could go to work the next day. I had insisted that she leave, and she had reluctantly complied, though I had felt a hint of regret almost as soon as she walked out of the door. This wasn’t something that I wanted to go through alone, but at the same time I didn’t really feel like it was appropriate to be sharing it with Tessie, either. I was stuck in a strange, awkward position and didn’t really know how to move forward until Richard arrived. Now he wanted to bring me back to his house to rest and though I knew that Tessie going back home had left me without my own transportation and that I was not up for the hour drive back to Grammyma’s house, the tingling of my fingers where Richard had held them was still enough to make me question whether entering his private world and spending even a few

hours in it with him was a good idea.

Just as he had promised, Richard was back at the medical center as they were discharging me. The doctor handed me a sheaf of instructions and a reminder about my appointment with the midwife. He emphasized that I should be absolutely fine, but that I might want to take it easy for a day to let my body and my mind get over the experience. Plenty of fluids. Plenty of rest. Good food. All those things that doctors tell you when you are dealing with virtually any type of health issue. It was another reminder that pregnancy was, in the greater scheme of things, a run-of-the-mill event and that it only held the white-knuckled intensity for those going through it. Richard asked if I wanted to use a wheelchair to get to the car, but I begged off of it. He probably already thought that I was two shades

short of inept. The last thing I needed at that moment was a further blow to my self-confidence. We walked along the hallway toward the car slowly and silently. My hand hung between us and I found myself wishing that he would reach down and hold it again. The warmth and comfort that he had given me as we looked at the tiny speck of a child on the computer monitor was unexpected and thrilling, but at the same moment unnerving. I didn’t want to have these feelings. They weren’t mine to have. Yet every time that I got near Richard, every time I even thought of him, they seemed to get stronger and there was nothing that I could do about it. His house was just as extraordinary as I would have thought it would be. Possibly even more so. The car pulled up to a massive wrought iron gate and paused for only a moment before the gate slid open and we entered. The meandering driveway was like something out of a sweeping family saga movie and I had the sudden mental

image of a woman standing on the balcony in a hoop skirt gazing out over the grounds waiting for her man to come home. Or the land to stop burning. Or the ice cream truck. Not a real woman. An actress there for ambience. As we curved around the driveway the house came into sight, rising up out of the horizon so that it towered against the first hints of early morning sunlight. I couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size and beauty of it. This was a home from another era, not like the other era that had brought the birth of Whiskey Hollow and Grammyma’s house. Yet all around me I noticed subtly integrated hints of modern technology that spoke to a cutting edge quality of life and enormous wealth that only grew each day. The car brought us directly up to the bottom of the steps that led up to the front door and

Abraham got out to open the back door. Though Richard had driven to the medical center when he first came, he told me that he had Abraham bring him back so that he would be able to sit in the backseat with me. It gave me a warm feeling in my chest, yet part of me wished that he had driven. It would show me a part of him that I could almost relate to, something that wasn’t so far out of the realm of my reality. And keep me from wanting to cuddle with him and fall asleep in the backseat. As soon as we stepped through the front door Flora came stalking down the stairs toward us. It was still so early that it could barely be considered morning, yet this woman was up, coiffed, perfectly made up, and wearing more spandex than the cast of Cats. A leotard with legs cut all the way up to her waist and matching tights were from another time, yet their intensely retro feel made them

somehow totally contemporary. She wore a sweat band around her head, though I somehow doubted it saw a tremendous amount of sweat, and she had pared down her jewelry to just a pair of diamond studs in her ears and a delicate gold watch. Practically one of the people. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “I woke up and you weren’t here. What is she doing here?” “You didn’t tell her where you were going?” “I didn’t have the time,” Richard said. “It was an emergency.” “The second time?” I asked. He looked down at me and started to say something but a plump woman with shimmering silver hair and a smile that made me feel like if she was around nothing could go wrong in the world came scurrying into the foyer.

“Good morning!” she boomed in a voice that was sweet but far louder than I was really prepared for that early in the morning. “Good morning, Hannah,” Richard said. “Will you please bring Rue to the guest wing and make sure that she’s comfortable?” “Of course. Come along, Sweetie. Let’s get you some rest.” I glanced at Richard and then fell into step beside Hannah, who rested a comforting hand on my back as we climbed the wide, winding staircase toward the upper floor. I could hear Flora and Richard start arguing as soon as we reached the landing and immediately felt guilty. Hannah must have been able to see the emotion on my face when she finally led me into a sprawling, elaborate bedroom and guided me toward the bed. “Now, don’t you feel bad about this for an instant,” she said.

“But I shouldn’t be here,” I said. “I should be at my own house. I’m intruding, and Flora is obviously upset.” “You are right where you are supposed to be,” she said. “If you weren’t supposed to be here, then you wouldn’t be here.” It was the type of logic that made my head spin slightly, but I tried to go along with it. “And don’t you pay Flora any mind. Mean as a rattlesnake that one is. But I think down deep in there, there’s a good person. Somewhere. It’s just hidden real good. Somebody will find it one day.” I laughed, and Hannah gave me another warm smile before walking over to a large wardrobe positioned against one wall. She opened the doors and reached in to take out a basket. “Now, I wish I had something better to offer you for pajamas than this, but Richard didn’t give me enough warning to go find you anything decent.

I hope that it will at least be comfortable. You just leave your clothes in this basket outside the door and I’ll make sure that they are washed before you even get up.” “You really don’t need to do that,” I said. “Of course, I do. Growing babies is hard work. You’re bringing a little drop of sunshine into this house and you need your rest to make sure that you can do it. When you’re ready, just draw the curtains and it will get nice and dark in here. Sleep as long as you like, and I’ll be ready to make breakfast for you as soon as you get up.” She looked at me for a moment and I saw a tenderness in her eyes that made me wonder just how long she had been with Richard’s family. Hannah reached out and cupped her hand against my cheek, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I was surprised by the gesture, yet comforted.

“Thank you,” she said before patting my cheek and heading out of the room. As soon as the door closed, I looked in the basket. Inside were two white undershirts, a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of socks. It was obvious that they were all Richard’s. I stripped down and stepped into the pants, tying the drawstring tightly to keep them in place on my hips, then let the shirt drop down over my head. It surrounded me with the fresh smell of warmth and bleach that had lingered in the tight hug that Richard had given me the day that we found out I was pregnant, and I sighed into it, wrapping my arms around myself to enjoy just a moment of it. Doing as Hannah said, I put my clothes in the basket, tucked it outside in the hallway, and drew the curtains, immediately ensconcing the room in darkness so thick I had to feel my way to the bed. I climbed up the platform onto the mattress and

slipped between the covers, knowing nothing after my head rested onto the pillow.

Chapter Seventeen

Rue

Dear Baby, Please don’t scare me like that again. We’re only a few weeks in and I don’t think I’ll make it through if it’s going to be like last night all the way along. Now that you are settled in, please behave. Your daddy can’t take any more. Be a good baby.

Rue

**** It was the shortest letter that I had written to the baby so far, but I felt that it needed to be done.

I folded the piece of paper and tucked it back into my purse along with my pen and made my way to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Hannah had brought me my clothes, freshly cleaned and neatly folded, and told me to enjoy a bath before coming out. I was happy to take the invitation, but I had a moment of disappointment at the thought of taking off Richard’s clothes. I had slept curled up in them and woke with the lingering feeling that he was holding me in his arms. It wasn’t something that I should be feeling, and certainly something I couldn’t admit, but now that I had to give it up I was reluctant. Finally, I relented and savored a long, soothing bath before dressing in my own clothes. I wished that I had some makeup with me, but I had to make do with running the travel brush I kept in my purse through my hair and sweeping powder over my skin. I dabbed on some lip balm and checked the mirror. The result was looking even

paler than I figured I already did, but there was really nothing that I could do about it. I was already ready and heading out of the room when I realized that I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I didn’t even know if Richard was still at the house or if he had gone to work. The last thing I wanted to do was run into Flora without anyone around to buffer our encounter. Was I supposed to have breakfast? Was I supposed to hang out and wait for Richard to come back? Was I supposed to just find Abraham and have him bring me home without saying anything? Most confusing walk of shame ever. Fortunately, I had only gotten a few steps away from the bedroom when Hannah rushed up the hallway toward me. She never seemed to slow down. Maybe that’s what kept her so youthful and energetic. She kept moving so fast that aging couldn’t catch up with her.

“Good morning!” she gushed. “You look refreshed.” “Is it still morning?” I asked, impressed that I had only slept a few hours. “No,” Hannah said, shaking her head without her smile fading. “It’s almost three.” “Good gracious,” I said. “I seem like a total slug.” “You don’t seem like a slug,” Hannah said. “You seem like a woman who’s going through her first trimester of pregnancy. Growing babies is hard, and you need your rest.” It was the same sentiment that she had expressed early that morning and it was even more reassuring now. “Thank you,” I said. “I have breakfast waiting for you downstairs

and Richard says that he will be down to join you in just a few minutes.” “He’s still here?” I asked. My voice must have revealed a little more of the excitement that I was feeling than I intended because I saw the smile on Hannah’s lips change slightly and a knowing look in her eyes. “He is,” she said. “Just go on downstairs. Breakfast is in the lounge.” She started away but then looked over her shoulder at me. “Come to think of it, I’ve never known Richard to take a day off just to spend at home.” She walked the rest of the way down the hall, leaving me with that thought in my mind. I started down the stairs and let the smell of bacon and pancakes guide me through the lower floor of the house and into the lounge where I found a table spread with enough food for at least five people. I stepped in and the rest of the table came into view,

revealing Richard sitting in one of the chairs, reading a newspaper. They still make those? “Good morning,” I said as I walked in. “Kind of,” Richard said. “Kind of good?” “No, kind of morning.” I laughed and sat down across from him. “Actually, not at all morning,” I said. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. “Probably far too well,” I said. “How can you sleep too well?” I concentrated on filling a plate with food, not meeting his eyes. I didn’t want to confess how wonderful it felt to be wearing his clothing or to be curled up in his house. I ate for a few moments and

then noticed that he hadn’t eaten anything. “Not hungry?” I asked. “I’ve already eaten breakfast,” he said. “And lunch. And a snack, for that matter.” I laughed again. “Perfect.” I took a sip of orange juice and then cocked my head to look at him. “Why did you stay home from work today?” I asked. “You,” he said. “I’m sure I could have made my way home myself,” I said. “You didn’t have to take the day off just to wait around for me.” “I didn’t,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that you were alright, and to spend some time with you.” “You did?” I asked.

Richard nodded. “Are you finished?” I looked down at my plate and the remnants of what had once been the huge pile of food. I nodded. “Yes.” “I want to show you something.” I followed him out of the lounge and back upstairs. Rather than turning in the direction of the room where I had slept, we continued on and climbed another set of steps until we ended up in another hallway. To one side I saw what I assumed was the master bedroom, but he guided me in the other. We reached a closed door and Richard took a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and opened it. I stepped inside and gasped. “What is this?” I asked, looking around.

The room around me was completely decorated for Christmas. Garlands stretched elegantly across the mantle of a fireplace and along the tops of windows. Lights glittered from every surface. A massive tree sat in one corner, meticulously wrapped gifts piled underneath. Even the air in the room smelled like pine and peppermint like it was being piped in from somewhere. “This is my Christmas room,” he said, looking around with a smile on his lips. “I put it together every year right around Thanksgiving.” “But why is it up here?” I asked, walking closer to a small table set beside a couch to look at an intricate crystal carousel. “Why do you keep it locked?” “Flora doesn’t particularly like Christmas,” he said. “She doesn’t like the house getting changed and the effort of decorating, or the mess.

On Christmas Eve she puts up a small silver tabletop tree, we exchange gifts, and then it’s over. But I love Christmas. It reminds me of when I was little and my whole family would get together. So, I started doing this every year. It’s kind of a chance for me to have the Christmas that I want, without disrupting anyone else.” “This is your house,” I said. “You shouldn’t feel like you’re disrupting someone just because you want something that they don’t. Especially when it’s something like Christmas.” I looked around and sighed. “I love Christmas. At least I used to. It’s been a while since I’ve really done one like we did when I was a little girl.” He smiled around the room again and then looked at me. “Do you want to stay for a little longer, or are you ready to go home?” I wanted to stay. I wanted to never leave. But

him putting it that way illustrated just how much I couldn’t. “I should go home,” I said. “There’s a lot that I need to do.” “Like what?” Richard asked. “Just…. just a lot.” He nodded, but I couldn’t tell what emotion was in his eyes. We walked out of the room and he locked it behind him, hiding the beautiful, festive scene like he was locking away a private part of him for no one else to see.

The ride back to Whiskey Hollow felt long, but I enjoyed every moment of it, though we were in silence for most of it. It was nice just being there in the backseat with Richard. He spent most of the ride looking ahead of him or at me, but as we approached Grammyma’s house, I saw his focus

turn to the window beside me. Something shimmered on his face and I turned to follow his gaze. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, muffling my gasp. Beyond the window I saw Grammyma’s house, fully decked out for Christmas. Strands of lights dripped from every surface, potted trees flanked the door and lights that looked like icicles outlined a walkway from the parking area to the porch. I climbed out and took it all in, then turned to look at Richard. He grinned at me as he climbed out of the car and followed me. “Do you like it?” he asked. “Like it?” I asked. “It’s incredible. I can’t believe it.” “I hoped you would. I sent my team out here this morning.” “Is that why you showed me your Christmas

room?” I asked. “To make sure that I wasn’t some sort of Grinch?” “I would have gone with Scrooge, but yes, that’s the general idea.” “Ah,” I said with a smile. “Of course, you would.” I looked at the house and then turned back to him. “Is there more?” Richard shrugged. “Maybe.” I giggled and ran up the steps toward the front door. It opened beneath my hand and I stepped inside to a winter wonderland. I glanced out at him and he laughed. “No locks.” I grinned and went back in the house. Every room had been decorated, each corner featuring another detail. The kitchen smelled of warm

cinnamon, the hallway of peppermint, and the living room of pine, the smell wafting from the broad boughs of a tree in the corner. It was the only thing that I saw that wasn’t decorated. “I thought that we could decorate it together,” he said. I felt like a little girl again as we unpacked boxes of ornaments and nestled them into the tree. A crate sitting on the floor beside the couch caught my eye. I remembered it from years before. I walked up to it and touched my fingertips to the lid. “This was my Grammyma’s,” I whispered. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind,” Richard said. “My crew found it in the closet when they were hanging up their coats and guessed that it had decorations in it.” I nodded. “It does,” I told him. “Heirlooms.”

I opened the crate and touched the generations-old ornaments nested down in scraps of old paper. Around me it felt like Grammyma and my father were there with me again. Richard and I carefully took each out of the crate and I shared my memories of them with him, regaling him with tales of my childhood Christmases. I knew that they were nothing like the holidays that he must have had, especially considering it was always just the three of us, but they were everything to me. We laughed together, and he sat quietly with me, his hand rubbing my back gently as I cried. When I was finished, I felt strangely refreshed. “The last one,” Richard said, carefully taking the tin star that had been passed down from Grammyma’s grandfather out of the crate. “You put it on,” I said. “Are you sure?” he asked. I nodded, and he reached up, settling the star

into place on the top bough. “It looks beautiful,” I said when the final touch had been added. “Oh! I can’t believe I forgot.” I went to where I had placed my purse and reached inside, moving the letter to the baby aside so I could reach the envelope toward the bottom. Opening the envelope, I slipped out the short row of images and brought them to Richard. “The doctor gave me these before he discharged me,” I said. “I thought that you might want them.” Richard took the sonogram pictures from my hand and looked down at them. His eyes filled the same way that they had when he looked at the screen the night before. He looked up at me and suddenly the space between us closed. His arms reached out for me, but before they wrapped around me, he took a step back as realization of his

actions caught him off guard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have….” He took another step back from me, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” He rushed out of the house, grabbing his coat as he went. Outside I heard a car door slam and realized that Abraham had been sitting outside waiting this entire time. I had completely forgotten him. Guilt rushed through me and I knew that it wasn’t just pushing the driver out of my mind that was causing the feeling curdling in my stomach.

Chapter Eighteen

Richard

“What’s wrong with you?” Flora demanded. “You’ve been moping around here for weeks.” I looked at her over my mug of coffee and shook my head. “Nothing,” I said. “Just after-Christmas blues.” “Christmas was over three weeks ago. And since when do you have after-Christmas blues? You barely even seemed to care about Christmas this year.” I covered my sigh with a deep sip of coffee. I suppose you’re right.

I looked up at the face of the Grandfather clock and felt my chest clench. “We should get going,” I said. “We don’t want to be late.” As I passed through my study, my eyes darted to the top of my desk and the sonogram image that I kept there. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Rue since the day that she handed me that image, the day that I had almost kissed her. I had to tear myself away from her, to leave her behind and try not to think of her again. It was all I could do not to go back to her house. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself do that, not to either of us. Or to Flora. Now I had to see her again. The day that I had once thought would take a lifetime to get here had arrived more quickly than I expected and now I had to go to the medical center to meet the midwife and get the ultrasound that should let us hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. As much as I

looked forward to it, I also dreaded walking into the room with Rue and knowing that I couldn’t be close to her. I could barely even speak to her.

Just as I expected her to be, Rue was sitting on the examination table when Flora and I walked into the room. She had the pink blanket draped over her again and I couldn’t help but think of the last time we were here and the brush of my fingers against hers. Yet again we didn’t look at each other when I walked in and sat in one of the chairs against the wall. We sat in silence until the door opened and a tall, sturdy-looking woman with slatecolored hair and vibrant green eyes walked in. She sat on the stool that had been tucked under the counter and used it to slide over to Rue. When she stopped she let out a sigh and looked into each of our faces, a closed smiled on her lips.

“So,” she said. “How are we all feeling about bringing this beautiful new soul into the world?”

**** Rue

What did she just say? “What?” Richard said. “This beautiful new soul,” the midwife repeated. “This new little child. How are we all feeling about bringing it into the world?” She drew in a breath. Oh, no, she’s going to sing. Oh, dear lord, she is going to burst into song. Fortunately, she didn’t. Instead, she introduced herself and went on a complex,

meandering talk through everything that I should expect in my pregnancy, including a few things that I would really have preferred her to say when it was just the two of us in the room rather than sharing it so openly with Richard and Flora. There are parts of my body that I don’t want virtual strangers contemplating, particularly in the context that Kathryn had put them in during her pregnancyin-a-nutshell spiel. When she was finished, I felt somewhat stunned. I was still trying to internalize the flow of information that she had just given me when the door opened again and Ellery stepped inside. Oh, perfect. Let’s invite a few more people. Where are Flora’s parents? The lawyer? How about both the boy and girl that were on standby to marry this child when it got old enough. Ellery greeted Richard and then looked at me.

“Rue,” he said. “Ellery. I bet you’re glad I’m late, now, aren’t you?” He looked at me quizzically and then glanced at his watch. I rolled my eyes. Fucking idiot. Kathryn turned away from the counter where she had been pulling on gloves and waved her hands frantically at Ellery. “Go, go, go,” she said. “What are you doing in here?” “I was checking in on the progress of the project,” he said. “This isn’t a project,” Kathryn said. “This is a pregnancy and pregnancy is not a spectator sport. Everyone out. This is about me and Rue right now.” I saw the panic in Richard’s eyes and I shook

my head. “It’s alright. They can stay. It’s their baby. They should be here for this.” Kathryn glared at Ellery and he scurried out of the room. “Alright,” she said. “If you’re comfortable with that.” She pulled out the end of the table and I propped my feet into the stirrups, feeling a few second thoughts as I felt the cold air of the examination room sweep up under the blanket, reminding me of just how familiar the midwife was about to get with me and what both Richard and Flora would witness if they didn’t move to a better angle. I drew in a breath and closed my eyes as Kathryn rode her wheeled stool to the end of the bed and I felt her grab the end of the blanket. Here we go.

**** Dear Baby, I heard your heartbeat today. That sentence is far too simple to have the impact that the moment actually had. I wish that I could come up with the words to tell you just how incredible it was to listen to that little rhythm, like a hummingbird within me. I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of your parents while I was listening to it. I shouldn’t admit it, even to you, but I was being selfish. I wanted to have that moment all to myself. I didn’t want to have to see their reaction or to have to share what I was feeling. This is all I have. These are the only moments that I’m ever going to have with you, and I want to make the most of them. I know I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. There’s another month before I see Kathryn

again. By then it will be time for your parents to reveal the pregnancy to everyone. I don’t know how many people they’ve even told about you, or about me for that matter. They might be trying to keep the whole situation completely secret until the first trimester is over. For all I know, though, they might have told everyone that they know and be planning a huge reveal party for Valentine’s Day. Wouldn’t that be something? I can just hear the conversation now…Do you want to go to dinner with me on Valentine’s Day?.... I can’t…. Oh, do you have other plans?.... I do…. A date? .... No, I have to go let the father of the baby I’m carrying announce to his society friends that I’ll be popping out his heir this summer. I like that I just not only created a conversation, but also a man that would have any interest in bringing me out for Valentine’s Day. That sounds much more pathetic than I really intended it to. It’s just that the dating pool in

Whiskey Hollow doesn’t really have a deep end, if you follow me. In fact, it’s more a kiddie pool than it is a full pool. Even if it was, I don’t think that starting up a romantic relationship at the same time as I’m carrying you would really be the best choice. A girl only has but so much of her to go around. To be honest with you, it’s hard to think of ever having that type of relationship again. I can’t imagine just putting this behind me and moving on like nothing. My heart doesn’t want to move forward, even though I know that I have no choice. This year, Baby, you’ll be my Valentine. We’ll spend the evening watching romantic comedies and eating chocolate out of a big heartshaped box. Chocolate out of a heart-shaped box always tastes better than chocolate out of any other type of box. We won’t tell your mommy. She doesn’t need to know.

Thank you for sharing your sweet little heartbeat with me today. I’ll never forget that sound. No matter where I go in life, no matter what happens to me from here on, nothing will ever stop me from remembering what it was like to hear that little beat for the first time. I’ll miss sharing mine with you, but I’m glad that yours is strong.

Rue

Chapter Nineteen

Rue

“What happened?” “They held an intervention for me.”, I answered. “An intervention for what?” I accepted the cool cloth that Christopher held out to me and wiped it across my chest. The waves of nausea that I had been feeling eased and I took in a breath, letting it out slowly to ease my trembling. “Apparently, they think that I’ve been bewitched in some way, I think. I’m not entirely sure. I couldn’t totally follow everything that was being screamed at me.”

“So, the takeaway lesson for the day is that the people of Whiskey Hollow aren’t ready to have a surrogate mother in their midst.” “No, the takeaway lesson for the day is that the snake handlers of Whiskey Hollow should be turned over to the FBI and not be allowed to operate motor vehicles, even if they are marked for farm use only.” I tried to sit up but felt another rush of nausea and rested back again. “I thought that the morning sickness was supposed to go away by this point,” Christopher said. “That’s another one of those delightful lies people tell you about being pregnant,” I said. “They say that you’ll feel so much better by the end of your first trimester. I felt fine up until these last two weeks. Now I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“What about Richard?” “I’m sure he’s feeling fine.” “No,” Christopher said, sitting down beside me and pressing another cool cloth to my forehead. “What about Richard?” He knows me too fucking well. “I can’t think about Richard,” I said. “I go back to the midwife in two weeks and I’ll see him then, but that’s really all I can think about.” “Why?” “What do you mean ‘why’? You know exactly why.” “No, I know that you said that this man has been falling over himself to make you happy.” “And that he’s getting married.” “In theory. In theory, Rue, and to a woman

who you, yourself, said was the Bitch of All Evil.” “I might have been a little hasty about that. I don’t really know her. Besides, it doesn’t matter what I think of her. He chose her. He is planning a family with her. He intends to marry her. What I think of her is completely inconsequential.” “You can’t just give up on him. I haven’t seen you look like this when you talked about a man - you know what? I’ve never seen you look like this when you talked about a man. This is different. There’s something here, and you can’t just let yourself pretend you don’t feel it because it’s convenient for you.” “There’s nothing convenient about this, Christopher. Nothing at all. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” “Yeah, I can see your conflict. A gorgeous, exorbitantly wealthy man builds a medical center to ensure you get the best care possible, spends

Thanksgiving with you, decorates your home for Christmas. I just don’t know what you could possibly see in that.” “He didn’t build the medical center for me. He built it for the baby.” “The baby that is half yours, I’ll point out.” “It’s not half mine,” I said, trying not to let the tremble come into my voice. “It’s all theirs. I’m just an oven.” “If that’s what you want to think,” he said, shaking his head, “but I know you. I know you better than you want to admit. And I can see it. I know that you have feelings for him. You just have to accept it.”

**** “Hello?”

“Rue?” I was so groggy I could barely decipher my name. “Yes? What time is it?” “It’s midnight, did I wake you?” “Midnight?” Last time I looked at the clock it was 8:30 and I was sitting on the couch binge watching a British baking competition. “Yes. I’m sorry it’s late. I needed to talk to you before tomorrow.” “It is tomorrow.” I was coming awake and I dragged myself up into a sitting position as I realized that I was still sitting on the couch and half the competition was now over. I didn’t even get to see the muchballyhooed frozen custard cake sabotage scandal. I

was going to have to go back and watch it all again. “I needed to talk to you before later. I’m getting on a plane for a business trip and I wanted to let you know this first. I moved up your next appointment with the midwife.” “Richard?” There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Who did you think you were talking to.” “I wasn’t entirely sure.” “Yes, it’s Richard. I moved up your appointment.” “Why?” “I really liked Kathryn’s idea about announcing the pregnancy on Valentine’s Day, but I’m leaving the next day for nearly a month to handle some overseas business. I didn’t want to

miss the appointment, so I thought that it would be best to move it up.” “Did Kathryn say that was alright?” I asked. “I thought that she scheduled them on a particular timeline.” “She said that a few days either way is fine.” The sleepiness was gone now, and the tension in Richard’s voice was more evident. It sounded like he was holding something back, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check and not say something even though he wanted to. I figured that meant that I needed to be the one to say what we were both thinking. “Then fine, I’m ok with it if she is.” “Good. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. I’ll have Kathryn call you with the new appointment time.” “Alright. Travel safely.”

“I will.” The call disconnected, and I listened to the silence for a few moments, willing the tears to stay in my eyes.

**** Dear Baby, The first trimester is officially over. Today starts the second. We’re one-third of our way through, now. That’s hard to believe. I feel like I can breathe a little bit better. They say that now that we’ve gotten this far I can feel safer knowing that you have an even higher chance of getting here. I hate the way that that sounds, but it’s reassuring all the same. You have all of your organs. Did you know that? There are bitty little lungs, and a teeny tiny stomach, and all sorts of other weenie things. They

aren’t ready to work yet, though, so don’t get any ideas about testing them out. Your daddy left on a business trip and is off doing whatever it is that he does. Sometimes I wonder if that’s something that I should know. Does it matter that I don’t know what he does for a living? Considering I don’t understand why someone who is already as ridiculously wealthy as he is would want to keep working, I think that the answer to that is probably ‘no’. If I had even a fraction of the money that he has, I wouldn’t work a moment of my life. It’s not that I’m lazy, and I really did enjoy the career that I had, but there is so much more to life than work. Life is full of beautiful things to see and do and experience. There is so much out there, so much more than any person can ever even begin to do, that I don’t understand why anyone who doesn’t have to work to support themselves would spend any of the limited time that they have working.

You are going to get to do so much. You are going to have such a life. It’s all out here waiting for you, Baby, and the limits are truly so few. I hope that you take advantage of every opportunity that is given to you. I hope that you do things that scare you every day. I hope you do a few really stupid things. I hope you do exceptional things. I know you will do exceptional things. We’ll all just have to wait and see.

Rue

Chapter Twenty

Richard

“Is Dr. Finnegan in?” Sarah, a particularly bubbly receptionist who I sometimes worried had lied about her age just so she could work with the doctor I saw her ogling every opportunity she had, glanced at her computer screen and then back at me. She nodded enthusiastically. “She is.” “Would I be able to go in and talk to her for a few minutes?” I asked. I felt like I was talking to a small child, but I figured that was a good thing. I might as well get accustomed to it.

“Sure,” she said. “The other doctors are out to lunch, but she should be in her office.” “Thank you.” I walked through the doors to the honeycomb of offices doing my best not to shake my head. Why didn’t she lead in with that? Dr. Finnegan’s office door was partially open when I approached, and I rapped on it before pressing it open. Flora’s doctor sat behind a massive scrolled wood desk that swallowed her small frame, her hand holding her phone close to her mouth as she made notes into it. She glanced up and waved me in. I stepped in gently as she finished her recording, not wanting to blot out any of her words with my footsteps. She set her phone to her desk and gestured at me to sit. “Hi, Richard,” she said pleasantly. “What brings you here?”

“Well, Happy Valentine’s Day, to start,” I said. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she replied, somewhat cautiously as if unsure of my motivations. “Flora and I have a little bit of a celebration that we wanted to share with you.” She looked around me. “Where is Flora?” she asked. “Oh, she couldn’t be here. But she sends her best.” It was a total lie. She had specifically said that she didn’t want to go with me as I delivered the news to our friends and family that we were expecting a baby. She said it was distasteful commandeering a holiday that was supposed to be about lovers and making it about the contract baby, but I refused to listen to her. This was something

that I had been bursting to tell people for weeks and I had gotten it into my mind that this was when I was going to do it. It wasn’t as though Flora and I had ever shared a special Valentine’s Day. She refused to eat chocolate, she said that roses were woefully cliched, and after three years in a row of me trying to plan special experiences for us and her rejecting them, I had given up. “Alright,” the doctor said, the word drawn out with expectation. I drew in a breath, preparing myself for the first reveal after my parents. That had gone spectacularly horribly. I was still trying to get the image of my mother clutching her heart and apparently getting the vapors out of my mind. I was dearly hoping that this reveal would go better. I took the red paper heart from behind my back and handed it to her. She looked at it for a moment before it seemed to occur to her that she

was looking at a sonogram image, the one taken just the day before. “You’re having a baby!” Dr. Finnigan said. “We are!” I replied. She came around the side of the desk and gathered me into a hug. “That’s wonderful! How is Flora feeling?” I took a step back, looking at her quizzically. “Flora?” I asked. “What do you mean?” “Has she gotten over her morning sickness?” Shit. A sick feeling was forming in my stomach, but I knew that it wasn’t morning sickness. “Flora isn’t pregnant,” I said. “We have a surrogate.” “Oh,” the doctor said, looking confused.

“But why? Flora is so young and healthy. Why would you need a surrogate?”

**** “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Flora looked at me from her stair stepper, seemingly unfazed by my storming into the home gym. She continued her workout and I stalked toward her, reaching around to slam my fist onto the controls of the machine and turn it off. “Get those fucking things out of your ears and listen to me.” She glared at me as she pulled her earbuds out and got down from the machine, picking up a towel to dab at the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. This was the most intensely that she ever exercised, and I realized in that moment just how much it sickened me.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked as she swept past me. I reached out and grabbed her arm, whirling her around to face me. She gave a disgusted gasp and yanked her arm away from me. “I just went to see Dr. Finnigan,” I said through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t aware that you were in the market for a gynecologist.” “Apparently you aren’t, either.” “What are you going on about?” “I went to see her to give her the news of our baby. I thought that she would be thrilled that our surrogate choice conceived on the first try. It turns out that she was shocked that we have a surrogate at all. How could you lie to me like that? How could you tell me that you couldn’t get pregnant?”

Flora stared at me, a look in her eyes that said that she knew she had been caught and that this was the one time in her life when she couldn’t talk her way out of it. “I thought that it would make you shut up about wanting a baby.” The answer hit me even harder than I anticipated it would. “What?” “You wouldn’t stop talking about having a baby. It’s all you cared about. You never even proposed to me. We’re supposed to be getting married, but we aren’t even engaged, and all you would ever talk about is how much you want a child.” “You talked about it, too.” “Because I felt like I had to. It was the only way that you would interact with me. I hoped that

if I told you that I couldn’t get pregnant that you would stop. I hoped that you would think about me and what I might be going through, and that you would get over the baby thing. That way we could actually move on with our lives. Do you know how humiliating it is for me that we’re not married?” “Don’t try to turn this around on me,” I said, a warning note in my voice. “Don’t you dare. You lied to me. You should have just been honest with me. How could you let me go through all of this? Why did you even agree to go along with the contract? Just to save face?” “I can’t do this, Richard.” “What do you mean?” “I can’t do this. I can’t stay here. I can’t be a mother.” “You’re telling me this now? Rue is pregnant! She’s in her second trimester. We’ve

signed contracts, written checks. This isn’t just an idea. There’s a real baby now.” “I know that. That’s why I can’t do it. I thought that I might be able to change my mind. I thought that maybe as we went along I’d see what you saw and start feeling what you feel. I thought for sure that when I saw the ultrasound I would connect with the baby and be excited, but that’s not what happened. When we were at the doctors’ yesterday and I saw the ultrasound---” she shook her head as if just the thought of it was horrifying. “It terrified me. I wanted to just get the hell out of there and never look back.” “What are you saying?” I knew exactly what she was saying, but she needed to say it. For once, she needed to be accountable. “I want out. I don’t want this.”

Without saying another word, I turned and walked away.

Chapter Twenty-One

Rue

I barely had time to process the front door crashing open before I saw Richard stalking down the hallway toward me. His eyes burned into me, an intensity in them that left me breathless before he even touched me. I started to say his name, but before I could, his mouth was on mine. His arms wrapped around my waist and he scooped me off of my feet, kissing me with a possessiveness that seemed to reach down into my soul and touch something that had never been discovered. I clung to him, not caring what brought him here, not caring about anything. I couldn’t deny myself any longer. Richard held me to him and sank to his knees, tipping me back so that I lay across the

kitchen floor. We tore at each other and for a moment I wondered if I was dreaming again. This was dizzying, overpowering, and I couldn’t bring myself to believe that it was real. In an instant, though, Richard had tugged my pants away and plunged his fingers inside of me. I cried out, knowing that this was utterly, undeniably real. As his fingers explored my core, coaxing my arousal upward, I reached down and pulled off my shirt, exposing my breasts to him, not wanting anything between us. He reciprocated, and I could finally see his body. I ran my hands down his chiseled muscles and he leaned down over me again, catching my mouth again. He tore his mouth away from mine and reached down to grab his pants. I saw him fish in his pocket and come up with a condom. He tore it open and rolled it down his cock in record speed, and suddenly he was inside of me. My body was only just ready for him and I screamed out at the

intensity of the sensation of him filling me. Richard didn’t slow down. It was as though all of the need, all of the tension that had built up between us had reached such a fevered pitch that it could no longer be controlled and all we could do was let it burn. I gave myself over to the power of his thrusts, luxuriating in the feeling of our bodies together. He dropped his head down and caught one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking it in and encircling it with his tongue. I gasped at the feeling and arched up into him. Richard tucked his head into the curve of my neck and shoulder and continued to stroke deeply, his grunts shivering across my skin and his sweat mingling with mine. Suddenly his sounds grew desperate and he thrust into me hard one more time, roaring as simultaneous orgasms slammed over us. My body clenched down on him, drawing him deeper and milking him, seeking as much of him as I could bring into myself.

**** Richard

I felt the plane touch down, jostling me out of my sleep. In the first few seconds that I was awake I wondered if I had imagined it all. Had I just made it up? Was I going to look down at my phone and see a message from Flora complaining that I hadn’t done something at the house before leaving? Had I dreamed of Rue, imagined what it would feel like being pressed deep inside her on the kitchen floor? As the plane glided to a stop, though, I knew that I hadn’t imagined it. It had been real, every moment of it, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my lips thinking about it. Rue’s body had been sweet and compliant, ready to accept me,

wanting me as much as I wanted her. I hated that I had only gotten to spend such a short time with her before leaving. We had been sitting on the same floor, not trying to hide our nakedness from one another, eating cold leftovers, when my phone rang, and the sound of Ellery’s voice had brought me back to bitter reality. I had to go to the office for a presentation and gather up the papers I would bring on my trip with me, then pack and get to the airport in time for my flight. Leaving Rue had been the most difficult thing that I had ever done, but I had to do it. There were things that I needed to do, and I couldn’t just turn my back on them because I wanted to do nothing but explore every inch of her body in every room of her house. Could I?

Five hours later I was pulling back into Rue’s yard. Lights were burning in the windows, so I

knew that she was still awake. I let myself in and made my way to the living room where I found her curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, her face calm and peaceful under the flickering light of the TV. I touched a kiss to her lips and her eyes fluttered open. “Richard,” she said. “What are you doing here?” “I didn’t want to be away from you,” I said. “Not yet.” She opened her arms to me and I folded into them, taking my place on the couch so that she sprawled across my chest. I ran my fingers down her back and tried to figure out what she was watching. “What are they making?” I asked. “Pies,” she said dreamily. “They don’t look like pies.”

“They’re full of meat.” Everything felt calm, contented, like this was the way that it was always supposed to be. She knew now that Flora was gone, though I hadn’t told her the full story of what happened. I didn’t want her to feel betrayed or taken advantage of. For now, all that she needed to know was that Flora was not a part of my life any longer. The peaceful quiet was suddenly broken by a whooping sound in the distance followed by what sounded like a low explosion. “What the hell was that?” I asked. “Probably just some of the guys doing target practice.” “At night? That doesn’t seem wise.” “They want to make sure that they can still hunt even if they went blind.” She said it in complete seriousness, as though

it made all the sense in the world. “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “Why did you come back here?” She pressed on my chest to lift up so that she could look at me. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Why did you come back here? Why did you leave your apartment in the city to come back here?” “It’s my home. It was going to be foreclosed on. I needed to save it. That’s why I agreed to be a surrogate.” “It was?” I asked, stunned. “Yes,” she said. “I needed the money.” “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“No one ever asked.” “Yes, they did. That was literally one of the first things that Ellery asked you during your initial interview. You just said that you had reasons for needing the money. Then you seemed to have a panic attack when he walked out of the room. Maybe that should have tipped me off that you weren’t telling the total truth.” Her eyes narrowed at me. “How did you know that?” Heat burned across my cheeks. “I was watching you through a hidden camera,” I admitted. “You were what?” “I wanted to make sure that I was getting the full picture of each prospective applicant.” “So, you spied on us? You let us think that

we were alone and then you watched us?” She sounded horrified, and I knew that she was justified. “Look,” I said, trying to deflect the situation. “That’s not the point. I wish I had known that this was your motivation all along. I could have just bought it for you.” “I didn’t want you to.” “Why?” “Because it’s my responsibility, not yours. Money doesn’t always just automatically fix everything. My family earned every day in this house, and I wanted to earn it, too. If you had just paid for it, it wouldn’t have had any meaning.” I tried to understand, but I couldn’t, so I pushed the thought aside. “Now that you’ve paid for it, though, what

are you going to do with it?” She tilted her head at me. “Live in it,” she said. “Always?” I asked. “That was kind of my plan for the foreseeable future.” “Look, you don’t have to do that. And you don’t have to drive so far just to come to the medical center. Let me get an apartment for you in the city. You can live there, be close to everything, and it will make it much easier for all of your appointments especially when the baby gets closer to coming.” “I don’t need you to get me an apartment,” she said. “But it will be so much better than this.” I knew as soon as I said it that I shouldn’t

have. I was right back in the position that I had been in on Thanksgiving and she was looking at me with the same disappointment and pain in her eyes. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?” she asked, standing up from the couch and disappearing into the bathroom. I heard water rushing into the tub and I knew that I had been dismissed.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rue

Dear Baby, You’re a girl. A girl. I can’t stop saying it enough. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve thought of you for so long as just “the baby”, but now I know that you are a little girl. You are going to be so incredibly beautiful. I hope your hair is like your daddy’s. More than anything, though, I hope that you are strong. I hope that there is a little bit of Grammyma in you somewhere. Even if you never know it, she will be there to carry you through, to help you know that you can do anything. Don’t be afraid. Don’t ever be afraid. Even when something scares you, face it down and refuse to be afraid. One day, you will know the difference. At least I hope that you do.

I wish that your daddy had been able to be with me today when I found out. He was supposed to be. His trip was supposed to end last week, but it didn’t. Something delayed him, and he doesn’t know when he’ll get back. I’m sure that I could have rescheduled the ultrasound so that he could be there, but frankly I didn’t want to. He’s so used to getting his way all the time and expecting the world to just mold to him and change anything to work around him. I’m not going to do that. Unfortunately, I worry that you are going to be waiting for your daddy a lot in your life. He would never do anything to hurt you, and I bet he wouldn’t even understand why you were upset, but that’s just the way that his mind works. There will be many times when you have to wait, and I wasn’t going to let that start now. This was for us. I can feel you moving. It’s the most

incredible feeling. I thought that it would be hard and that I would know for sure what was happening, but it’s more like bubbles. I asked Kathryn about it, thinking that it might be something wrong or that I could do something about, and she just smiled and told me that it was you making yourself known. Now all I want to do is press my hands to my belly and feel you. Soon you’ll be able to hear my voice. Try to remember it, OK? Tuck it away in your heart somewhere so that it’s always there. Love, Rue

**** I still hadn’t written the baby a letter about what happened with Flora. I didn’t know how to put it into words that wouldn’t need to be censored

before she was allowed to read them. I knew that one day, if she ever got a chance to read the letters that I was writing to her, that she would see me mention her mother and ask Richard. It would be up to him what he told her about Flora, their relationship, and where she had gone. I didn’t need to be a part of that. I was just filling a glass with cold water, needing to cool off even though it was only still spring, when I heard the front door open. I was expecting Norma to come by that afternoon with a quilt that I had found in an old cedar chest and asked her to mend, so I called out to her. The voice that came back to me wasn’t hers. “What do you want to do?” I turned and saw Richard coming into the kitchen. Dammit. This man has got to stop startling me in my own house.

“What?” I asked. I turned the rest of the way toward him and saw his eyes lower to my stomach. “You have a belly,” he whispered, coming toward me. He lowered himself to his knees in front of me and rested his hands on either side of the small, but distinct swell that had developed in the last few days. “I can see her.” “You know it’s a girl,” I said. “Yes,” Richard said, getting to his feet again. “Ellery told me. I tried to get back here for the appointment. I really did. But I couldn’t. I missed it and that kills me. I never want to miss anything ever again, and I don’t want you to, either. So, tell me, what do you want to do?” “What do you mean?” “What do you want to do?” he repeated. “Anything. Pick something.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Ride a Ferris wheel,” I said. “What?” “I want to ride a Ferris wheel. The closest carnival to here never had one and I’ve never been to the big state fair. I’ve never gotten a chance to ride a Ferris wheel, and pretty soon I won’t be able to for a while.” “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.” “Now?” I asked. “Why not? I’m offering you the world, Rue. Why wait?”

**** Dear Baby, Can you hear the train? There are few

sounds in this world that I love quite as much as the sound of a train at night. It cuts through everything and reassures everyone who hears it that no matter what they are facing, life keeps going. Everything keeps going. I haven’t been back to Grammyma’s house in almost two months. Your daddy told me that he was sending a crew to make sure that my plants get watered and my mail gets brought in, but somehow, I don’t think that’s really the truth. Considering no one ever sends me any mail, all of my bills are sent straight to my email, and I don’t have a single houseplant to my name, I think that that was his code for he’s sending in a crew to do all of the renovations that I told him needed to be done to the house. I told him that he didn’t need to do it, but there seems to be no stopping him. Suddenly he is driven to take care of everything. I finally relented and let him get me an apartment, not that I’ve been using it. I wouldn’t let him get one in the expensive buildings, though.

I chose a simpler place near Tessie. It’s just a few minutes’ drive to the medical center. Your daddy spent days making sure that it was perfectly furnished and decorated. Could this be nesting? Before we left he said that he was offering me the world, and it certainly seems that he is trying to do just that. I left the house with nothing but my purse, but now I’m toting three suitcases and have had to send home some of the clothes and shoes that I’ve collected during our travels. Anything that I can think of that I want to do or see, he makes it happen for me. He checked with Kathryn to make sure that it is still OK for me to fly and as soon as she approved it, we were on his private jet zipping to anywhere that I mentioned. In a single weekend we ate meals in nine states and on both coasts. We cuddle in front of a roaring fire at a ski lodge one day and the next were spread out in the sand of a private beach. We have visited every state. I got my passport and on the same day

we were in Mexico exploring the ruins and then the next in Canada looking at the falls. I suggested we try hiking the Klondike Trail, but after telling me that that was the wrong Gold Rush trail, Richard suggested that piling on a hundred pounds of equipment and hiking over mountains might not be the best for me at this point. I’ve seen and done more in these weeks than I would have ever thought that I would be able to accomplish in five lifetimes. There’s only one thing missing. One thing that he hasn’t offered me. He’s giving me the world, but what about his heart? I want to tell him that I love him and that I want us to be a family, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. Not unless I know that he feels the same way. What if all of this is just one big adventure, his one chance to be impetuous and frivolous before he has to settle down to raise you? I can’t imagine living even a single day of the rest of my life without the

two of you…but what if I don’t have a choice?

Love, Me

**** I slid the letter into the folder that I had been keeping in the satchel that I now carried everywhere with me. I couldn’t bring myself to sign it “Rue”. It didn’t feel right anymore. I glanced over at Richard where he lay sleeping on the lower bunk. He had complained that this was the least luxurious sleeper car that he had ever traveled in, but that hadn’t seemed to stop him from falling asleep as soon as he laid down. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I changed into one of his shirts and slipped into the bunk beside him. I didn’t want to disturb him. I knew that our traveling was coming

to an end soon. He couldn’t avoid his career forever and in a few days, I would be at the point in my pregnancy when I would need to see Kathryn every two weeks rather than once a month. It was time to settle down again and I wanted Richard to get as much rest as he could before the stress of real life came back down on top of him. He shifted slightly as I curled my body against his and I felt his hand come to rest on my belly where I could feel the baby still tumbling around. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, closing my eyes against the words that I wanted to say, but that I couldn’t bring myself to voice.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rue

Three weeks later…

“Have dinner with me tonight.” I turned away from the mirror where I was checking my makeup and looked at Richard, sure that I hadn’t heard what I thought I had. I stared at him for a few moments and then took a step toward him. “What?” I asked. He finished tying his shoe and stood, shaking the front of his pants to straighten them and ensure that the pleat fell smoothly. It was something that had irritated me when I first saw him do it, thinking

that he couldn’t possibly be fussier, but now it was almost endearing. He took a step toward me and took my hands in his. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he repeated. “You mean like a date?” I asked. “No,” he said, and I felt my heart sink a little. “Not like a date. Not kind of a date. Not something similar to a date. A date.” “You’re asking me on a date?” I asked, my heart lifting and a smile coming to my lips. Richard laughed and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I am asking you on a date. I want to go on a date with you. I want to pick you up and bring you on a date. I want to be on a date and look beside me and see that you are there with me. I want to accompany you to dinner and have it be romantic in nature. I want this to be our first date. I want to date you and have it begin now.”

“OK,” I said, laughing. “Alright. I got it.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “I think that I could come up with a few other ways to say it if you give me a minute.” “I’m sure.” “Then will you?” I nodded, my smile getting bigger. “Yes,” I said. “I would love to go on a date with you.” Richard grinned and squeezed my hands. “Perfect. I’ll have Abraham bring you to your apartment, so you can get ready. I’ll be there to pick you up at seven.” “My apartment?” I asked. “But I don’t have anything there that I would want to wear on a date. Especially my first date with you.”

A glint came to Richard’s eyes and I knew that I had, yet again, underestimated this man. “You might have something waiting for you,” he said. “You were pretty confident in yourself, weren’t you?” I asked. “More like hopeful.” “And if I had said no?” “Is there any way that you would have?” “No, but what if I had?” “Then you would be very prepared for the most formal birth in recorded history. Our daughter would have the most glamorous delivery of any child ever.” I felt my breath catch in my throat. “Our daughter?” I asked.

Richard pulled me closer to him until I could feel his heart beating in his chest. The rhythm was fast and deep, and I concentrated on it, enjoying the security of it. He nodded. “It’s something that I want to talk to you about at dinner tonight.” I nodded back, and he smiled, bringing his mouth down to gently touch mine. “I’ll see you at seven?” I asked. He nodded and kissed me again. My heart was fluttering in my chest and the butterflies swarming around in my belly were doing a bang-up job competing with the baby’s tumbling that she had gotten extremely skilled at in the past few weeks. I couldn’t get the smile off my face as I headed out of the house and into the waiting limo. Abraham headed in the direction of my apartment without me saying anything, telling me that this was all put into action well before Richard asked me to

go to dinner with him that night. When we arrived at the apartment, he escorted me to the door and unlocked it for me just as he always did. There was something about that that I really liked. It went beyond just feeling special because he was helping me. It was more that I was never the one who unlocked the door. This kept me from feeling like the apartment was a replacement for my home in Whiskey Hollow. As long as I wasn’t treating this apartment like my home, Richard wasn’t trying to control me, he wasn’t trying to change me. I thanked Abraham and walked into the apartment. As soon as I went into the bedroom, I saw a large white box tied with a red ribbon sitting in the center of the bed. As I walked closer, I saw another smaller box behind it and a third behind that. Smiling at the thought of Richard going through so much effort for me, I untied the ribbon

on the biggest box and lifted the lid. Pushing the pieces of tissue paper aside, I saw a stunning red dress. I reached in and withdrew the dress, holding it to me and spinning around to look at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall behind me. The dress had a delicately scooped neckline and a flared skirt that fell just above my knees. Resting the dress back into the box, I reached for the smaller box behind the bigger one. Opening it, I found a pair of shoes perfect for the dress. My hands were shaking slightly as I picked up the third box. I sat on the edge of the bed and held the box on my lap for a few seconds before lifting the lid. Nestled inside against a bed of white velvet was a necklace, a pair of earrings, and a bracelet. I grinned as I took the bracelet and slipped it over my hand. I put the bracelet back into the box and undressed before walking into the bathroom. A

basket sat on the floor beside the tub, filled with my favorite scented bubble bath, bath salts, and lotion. A new pouf was tucked behind the bottles, making the assortment even more appealing. I ran a warm bath and poured some of the bubble bath under the stream of water, immediately filling the room with the sweet fragrance. Twisting my hair on top of my head, I stepped into the bath and slid down into the lush bubbles. I lingered in the bath, luxuriating in the sensory experience, then stepped out and used one of the thick, soft towels set beside the basket to dry myself. I felt refreshed and beautiful as I took my time doing my makeup and styling my hair. I still had some time when I was finished, so I sat down to write a letter to the baby. **** Dear Baby, I am going out on a date with your daddy tonight. I can hardly believe it. Of course, it’s

something that I’ve been dreaming of and hoped would happen, but I couldn’t really let myself think that it would actually happen. Over these last few months I’ve tried to ignore that I was falling in love with him. Even as we got closer, I didn’t want to let myself admit what I was feeling. It would just make it much too hard when the time came for you to be born and for us to go our separate ways. I didn’t want to have to think about losing you and the man that I loved at the same time. It would be just too much for me to bear. That was before today. Finally, your father asked me to go to dinner with him. It’s not the first time that we’ve eaten together, of course, but this is different. He finally said that it was a date. He finally admitted that he was feeling the same things that I was. Then he mentioned you. He told me that he wants to talk about you when we go out to eat tonight. I can only hope that he wants the same thing that I do. You know what that is. You

are so close to my heart that you can hear it beat every second. I can only imagine that you know what’s in it. If he wants what I hope he does, maybe my heart can finally stop longing for what I thought would never be, and instead start dreaming of something far more wonderful than I could have ever hoped. Something is going to change tonight, my sweet little one. Our lives are going to be different. I just know it. I love you.

**** I put down my pen and put the letter aside without signing it. I didn’t know what to sign. Just my name didn’t seem like enough anymore, but there wasn’t anything else that seemed appropriate. Not yet. Not until I knew for sure.

I checked the time and saw that it was only a few minutes until Richard was supposed to arrive to pick me up. The butterflies felt like they had gotten their second wind as I let the dress drop down over my head and settle around my thighs. I put the earrings in and secured the necklace around my neck. I had just stepped into my shoes and drawn the bracelet over my hand when I heard the knock on my apartment door. A real date. I was smiling so hard my face hurt as I scurried toward the door as fast as my burgeoning belly would allow me, and opened it, but the expression melted when I saw who was waiting for me outside. “Abraham,” I said. “Hello, Miss Rue,” he said. “You look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you. Where’s Richard? Is everything alright?” “Everything’s fine. There was a brief delay, so he sent me to get you and bring you to the restaurant. He says that he will meet you there and will probably even make it there before you.” “Where is he?” I asked. “I don’t know,” Abraham said. “He had me drop him off at the Central Hotel. He said that he will be to the restaurant shortly. That’s all I know.” “Did he seem upset?” I was starting to panic. What could be keeping him? Did I misunderstand what he meant when he asked me to dinner tonight? “Everything seemed perfectly normal,” Abraham told me. “We should leave if you want to

make your reservation on time.” He was starting to sound impatient and I stepped out of the apartment. Abraham reached behind me and closed the door, locking it. I almost reached for the keys that I had in the tiny black purse I was carrying, as if I could somehow extralock the door. Abraham guided me toward the limo and I felt slightly unsteady on my feet as I went, thoughts of everything that could be happening, all of the ways that this could be going wrong spiraled through my head. As I slipped into the backseat and Abraham closed the door behind me, my mind suddenly cleared. He specifically said that this is a date. Specifically. He wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t what he meant. I forced myself to calm down, drawing in a few breaths as I tried to relax and bring myself back to the happiness that I had been feeling. The

limo glided through the streets of the city and I watched the lights gradually coming on though it was still too early in the evening for it to be dark. This was the strange time of a summer day, when the clock said that it was sliding toward nighttime and many children were being tucked into bed, but the sun was still bright enough that you felt like you should be doing something productive. I distinctly remembered having that feeling when getting ready for prom in high school. I felt so fancy, dressed up in the gown that Grammyma had made for me and taking three hours to style my hair in a way that I look back now and know looked little different than something that would have taken me just a few minutes. I had felt glamorous, but when I stepped outside of the house to meet my date, the sun was still shining, and I felt far too gussied up. Rather than feeling grown up, I suddenly felt like a little girl toddling around in dress up clothes. As we made our way down one of the main

streets of downtown I noticed the large, ornate sign for the Central Hotel ahead of us. We were directly in front of it when traffic grinded to a halt and Abraham had to stop. “What the hell is going on up there?” he muttered, and I saw him craning his neck to see what was causing the delay ahead of us. I turned to look out of my window at the hotel, wondering where Richard was inside of it and what he was doing. As if my thoughts of him had guided them, my eyes scanned across the huge picture windows at the front of the hotel and landed on Richard. He was sitting at one of the small tables in the hotel’s exclusive lounge, two glasses of wine on the table in front of him. And sitting across from him was Flora. I felt my heart jump into my throat and I turned to press myself closer to the window so that I could watch what was happening between them.

They were leaned toward each other over the table, obviously caught in an intense discussion. I saw Richard reach across toward her and Flora take his hand. He gave hers a squeeze and she offered him a hint of a smile. The limo was starting to roll again, and I twisted to make sure that I could continue to watch them even as we pulled away. They were nearly out of sight when I saw them both stand and walk around the side of the table so that Richard could gather Flora into a tight embrace. The breath seemed stuck in my lungs as I turned around and pressed my back to the seat, my hands coming to rest protectively over my belly as I fought to keep my emotions under control and my mind from spiraling out of it. “Funeral,” Abraham muttered. “That’s what it feels like,” I whispered back.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Richard

I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders as I climbed out of the limo that Flora had arranged to bring me to the restaurant. Meeting up with her that evening was something that I dreaded and certainly didn’t want, but now that it was over I realized that it was exactly what I needed. I knew for absolute certain that that part of my life was finished, and I could put it all behind me. Without even knowing it, she had taken away some of the stress that I had been feeling about my date with Rue that night and replaced it with total reassurance. Everything was in place now, everything was exactly as it should be. I reached back into the car and pulled out the

bouquet of flowers that I had ordered for Rue. It was an exact replica of the one that I had brought for her on Thanksgiving, the first time that we had really had an opportunity to spend any time together just the two of us. I hoped that she would notice and understand the sentiment. The words that I wanted to say to her were repeating through my mind over and over as I approached the door to the restaurant. I wanted every single one of them to be absolutely perfect. What I needed to tell her was far too important for me to risk saying the wrong thing. I had never been so nervous about something that I needed to say. The maître d’ welcomed me to the restaurant by name and then directed me toward the table, though I didn’t really need such formality considering it was the same table that I always reserved. It was one of those things that people did for me, falling over themselves to show me courtesy and respect, to demonstrate that they

knew that I was important with gestures that I was starting to recognize were largely meaningless. I saw Rue waiting for me at the table as I approached, and a wide smile broke across my lips. She was wearing the dress that I had chosen for her and the jewelry was the perfect accompaniment, exactly as I had envisioned that it would be. She was staring at the glass of water in front of her, her fingertip tracing the rim lazily as she seemed lost in her thoughts. I felt terrible that she had been waiting for me, even if it had only been for a few minutes, but I knew that by the end of the evening it wouldn’t matter to her anymore. I opened my arms as she looked up at me, but the expression on her face didn’t change. The smile that I had been sure that I was going to see wasn’t there and her eyes looked empty and dark. “What is it?” I asked. “Is Flora going to be joining us this evening?”

she asked. My stomach sank, and I felt my face burn with embarrassment. She found out. Somehow, she already knew that I had seen Flora that evening. Though I obviously wasn’t going to hide it from her and had been planning on telling her everything about the meeting as soon as I sat down, she had found out before I had the opportunity to tell her and was now furious. I couldn’t really say that I blamed her for her reaction. Knowing that I had met with my former girlfriend, the woman who had once been the future mother of the child that Rue was carrying, would be confusing and upsetting at best, devastating and infuriating at worst. “Rue, let me explain.” She stood up suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone at the tables around her. “I don’t need you to explain anything you slimy fucking son of a bitch,” she said through

gritted teeth. Well, damn, that escalated quickly. “Rue, please calm down,” I said quietly. “No, I’m not going to calm down,” she said. “And stop saying my name. I am so fucking sick of the touchy-feely psychobabble that you rich men think is going to help you control the world even more than you already do. You think that the more you say my name, the more I’m going to feel acknowledged by you, don’t you? Yeah, that’s right. I took the interpersonal skills workshop at work. I know all the tricks. I suppose you were making sure that I felt plenty acknowledged the other night at the fair. I’m sorry that I couldn’t acknowledge you in return. I was too busy with your dick in my mouth. It was pretty hard to talk around it.” Oh, holy hell.

Everyone in the restaurant who was in earshot, which was everyone who was in the restaurant, gasped and I felt my face burning even more fiercely. I’m not usually one to be embarrassed easily, but Rue was certainly doing a great job pushing the limits of my self-confidence. It was fairly difficult to remain dignified when a heavily pregnant woman was screaming about your sexual adventures in the middle of a restaurant that had a waiting list of more than three years for the few tables not held by standing reservations. Now all she needed to do was mention Flora just a little louder and it would bring everything full circle. “Why didn’t you bring Flora along with you? I’m sure that she would have loved to get a bit of a laugh out of this. Or is she capable of laughing? I’m not sure how Barbie dolls forged in the annals of hell express emotion.” Yep. There we go.

“There really isn’t a need to cause a scene,” I said, still trying to keep my voice as low and steady as I could, hoping to calm her enough that at least we wouldn’t be escorted away by the police. “Can you sit down so that I can tell you what happened?” “No need to cause a scene?” Rue asked, her voice reaching a thin, high pitch that was almost painful. “No need to cause a scene? I’m sorry. I guess you don’t know who you’re dealing with. Well, if you don’t like the mudslinging, then perhaps you should have stayed out of the pig pen. Because that’s what you think of Whiskey Hollow, isn’t it? Admit it.” “That’s not what I think,” I said. I felt the maître d’ come up to my side. “Sir, I apologize, but I’m going to have to ask you and your lady friend to leave.”

“I’m sure you are,” I said. I turned and started toward the door, figuring that I could act as the pied piper and lead her out of the restaurant. Fortunately, it worked and I was able to get her out and into the back of the limo without another word. Not that she hadn’t said plenty already. As soon as the door to the limo closed, she started again. “Why did you even choose me?” “What?” I asked, trying to get myself on this seemingly new path of conversation. “Why did you even choose me?” She repeated. “To carry your baby. Out of all those other women I saw in the waiting room, what made you choose me?” “You were different,” I answered.

It was the most honest thing that I could figure out to say, the thing that I had thought about her from the first second that I saw her on my computer screen. “Different?” she asked. “You chose me because I’m different? That’s really the best you’ve got?” “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” “I want you to tell me why you put me through all of this. Did you know when you were sitting in that office being all skeezy watching all of us get interviewed, did you look at me and see something that made you go…you know what? I think that she’s going to be the perfect one to bang to amuse myself since my girlfriend is like fucking a popsicle in Antarctica? This girl is going to be easy and then I can just go about my life when it’s all over and pretend that she never existed.”

“I never intend on pretending you don’t exist,” I said, both angered and deeply saddened by the thought. “That was never the point of any of this.” “Of course, it wasn’t. You can’t pretend that I don’t exist because every time that you look at your daughter you’re going to see me. I bet that’s going to be a good laugh for you and Flora. One day she’s going to ask who carried her, who her biological mother is, and you’re going to get to say oh, she’s just some dumb chick from the sticks who was stupid enough to go along with this to save some house. You can even use it as a lesson about the people she should and shouldn’t associate with. I’m sure that it will be a very powerful learning experience. Like a social elite version of Scared Straight without all those pesky inmates and the drug talk, right?” “That’s not true.”

I wanted to say more, but I was so stunned, I couldn’t get the words to come out. Tears were streaming down Rue’s cheeks, but she didn’t even seem to notice them. Suddenly the limo stopped, and I realized that we were in front of the building where I had secured Rue’s apartment. I hadn’t even noticed that we had started moving. “Don’t follow me,” she said. “And don’t you dare think that you can show up to any of the rest of the prenatal appointments. Until I go into labor, you stay away from me. The midwife will send you reports after each appointment.” “You can’t do that,” I said, feeling slightly panicked as I slid toward the open door. “Yes, I can,” she said. “Remember pregnancy is not a spectator sport? You’re the one who insisted on a privacy clause in the contracts and who instructed all staff at the medical center to guard my anonymity every step of the way. If I

don’t want you anywhere near me until the baby is born, then you can’t be.” She slammed the door and I felt a sick feeling rush through me. My hand was still wrapped around the bouquet of flowers and I felt it slip from my fingers onto the floor of the limo. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The air in the car around me seemed to be getting thicker, suffocating me, and I clawed at my tie, trying to loosen it. Even when I tore it off and tossed it across the car, I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I tumbled out of the car and chased after Rue even though she had told me not to. I couldn’t just let her go. I couldn’t just let her walk away from me without trying to make her understand. The door to the apartment was already shut and locked by the time I reached it and I pounded on it with both fists, shaking the doorknob a few times as if it was going to change somehow.

“Rue,” I called through the door to her. “Open the door. Please. I just want to talk to you.” She didn’t come, and I continued to pound until a door opened down the breezeway. “Stop that,” an elderly woman’s voice scolded me. “She’s pregnant. Don’t disturb her.” “I know she’s pregnant,” I snapped. “It’s my baby.” “I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but she’s carrying my child.” I gritted my teeth, my fists tightening by my sides. “I really don’t need your input right now. Please go back inside and mind your own damn business.” I think Rue has been a bad influence on me. Or an awesome influence on me.

“I never,” the woman huffed, and I heard the door slam. “This is why I wanted to get you an apartment in a nicer building,” I shouted through the door and then immediately regretted it. Being elitist had already gotten me into enough trouble with Rue. It probably wasn’t a viable means of trying to get back in her good graces. I pounded on the door for a few more minutes and then turned around, pressing my back to the door and sliding down so that I sat on the sidewalk with my head rested back against the door. The evening had long-since faded down into night and I was dozing in and out of consciousness when Abraham finally came, took me by the elbow, and peeled me off of the sidewalk. He brought me to the car and tipped me inside, then drove away. I didn’t remember anything else until I woke up the next morning, still in my clothes and an empty,

hollow feeling in my stomach.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rue

“Son of a bitch.” I stepped back from the stove, sucking on the fingers that I had just burned on molten macaroni and cheese, and then paused. Rubbing my hand over my belly, I glanced down apologetically. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t be saying things like that. I wouldn’t want that to be what you remember about my voice.” I suddenly felt my throat close up with emotion and my eyes start to sting with the tears that had become all too familiar in the last several weeks since I had seen Richard. I had been trying not to let this happen. In fact, I had been having some serious talks with myself about the reality that

was going to befall me in just a matter of weeks. My due date was in exactly 16 days and I was counting them down with a mixture of emotions that I had a difficult time sifting through. I was looking forward to my back not aching anymore and to being able to look down and see my knees again. I was telling myself that by next summer I could be in a bathing suit again sitting in a baby pool in the front yard of Grammyma’s house waiting for Sue Ellen to come by with fresh homemade peach ice cream. Alright, so that wasn’t so terribly different from what I had been doing the day before, but at least next summer I could wear something cuter and not look like a beached whale when I tried to get up out of the pool to eat a half gallon of said ice cream. In the next breath, however, I was already grieving not feeling the baby’s little kicks during the

day or the hiccups that made my belly bounce when I had had too much to eat too quickly. I was struggling to wrap my mind around the idea that I wouldn’t have her inside of me to talk to anymore. Though I knew that I could keep writing her letters, I didn’t know if I would be able to bring myself to do it. It was just too hard to think about. For now, the letters that I wrote were tucked safely away in the scrapbook that I had been making her, protected in the pages among pressed flowers and leaves, pictures and ultrasounds, doodles I had made in the waiting room at the maternity center, and notes from Christopher and Tessie. I could keep them there, pretending that one day I would be able to give them to her, to hand her the book and sit with her while we talked about how she came to be and laughed about the memories that I had preserved from this time. Once she was born, though, I wouldn’t have that hope to hold onto anymore. If I wrote a letter to her I would have to

put it in an envelope, address it with whatever name Richard and Flora gave her, and send it away. I would never know if she actually got it, or even if she did, if she cared what it said. The thought was too much for me sometimes, and I had spent many nights since walking away from Richard that night wondering if I had made the right choice. Saving Grammyma’s house was so important to me that I hadn’t thought this decision all the way through. I had simply jumped on the opportunity, allowed my fear and the emotions that I was feeling in that moment to control me rather than taking a step back and trying to look at what was happening through some sort of filter of logic. Maybe if I had done that, I would have been able to come up with another solution. I would have been able to find another way to come up with the money to pay off the house and not have to go through this.

Even as I thought that, however, I knew that that would have been the truly wrong choice. No matter what I was going through right now and the pain and heartache that I knew was coming, if I had the opportunity to go back and change my mind, I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t do it. I had told myself in the very beginning that I wasn’t going to experience any of this. I was going into it with a clear mind and a confident spirit, I convinced myself. I wasn’t going to struggle with feelings of loss when it was time to give birth because I was never going to look at this baby as though it was mine, but that wasn’t the way that it had happened. I had connected with this baby in a powerful and completely unexpected way and for a brief moment in time I thought that I was going to be able to continue on with that connection and allow it to flourish. Losing that possibility made the impending separation even more difficult to fathom, but it also reinforced that this baby was something truly

spectacular, and that I would never want for her not to exist. Even if my only purpose was to create and carry her, and ensure that she was brought into the world safely so that Richard and Flora could raise her, I was proud of that contribution and I would take the pain that was to come as payment for the joy that I was able to feel now. I was reaching for the wooden spoon in the macaroni and cheese again, ready to try for a second time to get some into a bowl so that I could sit in front of the television and eat as had become my routine in the last several days, when I heard someone knocking on my door. I checked my phone to see if I had somehow turned it off. When I saw that it was still on and that no one had called, I got a sense of dread in my stomach. People around here might stop by in the late morning or early afternoon to drop off a pie or have a chat on the front porch, but they weren’t going to come over uninvited in the evening, especially not around

suppertime. This meant that there was something seriously wrong. There could be a barn fire or some kind of accident. Jimmy Kudrow could be stuck up in the big tree again. I rushed to the front door and pulled it open before even looking out of the window to see who it might be. Depending on how long he had been up in the tree, every second might count. When I saw what was waiting for me on the porch, though, I wished that I had taken those few seconds to check. Maybe then I would’ve just gone back to the living room with my bowl of macaroni and cheese and ignored the knocking until it stopped. Standing there in the glow of the porch light, silhouetted against the dying light of the evening, was Richard. My mouth opened and closed a few times, but I couldn’t seem to get any words out. Instead, I stepped back and started to close the door. Richard

reached out and flattened his hand to the door to stop it, stepping one foot inside to further prevent me from closing him out. “Rue, please. Just give me five minutes.” I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to just slam the door in his face, sit down on the floor, and cry. But something about the way that he looked stopped me. It wasn’t the expression on his face or even the emotion in his eyes, though both seemed deep and sincere. Instead, it was what he was wearing. I hadn’t noticed it when I first opened the door because I was so startled to be seeing him standing there, but now that I had had a minute, it was all I could focus on. “What are you wearing?” I asked, looking him up and down. “Can I come in?” he asked. I nodded and stepped back, letting him come

inside after me. I closed the door and turned so that my back was to it, still trying to get my mind to process the image in front of me. The body that was forever enveloped in exorbitantly expensive suits, silk, and khaki all tailored specifically to him was standing there in worn, faded jeans and what looked like a discarded old mechanic’s shirt. Richard held his arms open and I noticed he was holding a handful of wild flowers that appeared to have been just plucked out of the ground. “What do you think?” he asked. “I think it looks like you got stuck in some sort of natural disaster and are showing the benefits of a relief effort. Where did you get those things?” “I went to the thrift store in town,” he said, beaming at the revelation. “The thrift store?” I asked, as shocked as I was bewildered. “How long have you been standing on my front porch? The thrift store would have

closed at least four hours ago. Darryl does night fishing this time of year because it’s so hot and he likes to take the afternoons off so that he can nap before he heads out.” “I offered him a little bit of extra cash to open up for me.” I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. “Of course, you did.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Richard asked, looking crestfallen. I shook my head, cocking my hip in a gesture that had the dual benefits of looking sassy and relieving the painful pressure that was building up in the joint from standing too long that day. “Nothing. Is that it? You just came by to show me…what?... your poor holler-folk Halloween costume? Are you done now, because I’m really hungry and would like to get back to my

dinner now.” I walked away, hoping that he would see himself out, but he reached out and took my arm, turning me back toward him. A shiver went through me at the touch of his hand, but I pulled away from him. “Come to dinner with me,” he said. “Didn’t we already go through this?” I asked. “That didn’t go so well, either, so let’s just not revisit that particular disaster.” “But that’s what I want to talk to you about,” he said. “We already talked Richard. There’s nothing more that I have to say to you.” I knew that was a big lie. My heart felt like it was tearing in two with everything that was inside of it to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to say any of it. Besides, I think that I used up all of the words

that I was allowed to have about this particular situation when we were in the restaurant or in the limo afterwards. All of words that I was allowed to have, and quite a few that I probably wasn’t allowed but had gone right on ahead and used anyway. “Well, there’s a lot that I still need to say to you.” I was a little surprised with the force behind the words, and I fell quiet for a second. Finally, I nodded. “Go ahead,” I said. “What do you want to say?” “Please just go to dinner with me,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about this standing here in the middle of the foyer.” “So, like always, you get to decide how everything is going to go,” I muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Richard asked. His voice sounded slightly hurt but I was so filled with emotion at that moment that I didn’t really care what he was thinking or feeling. “Nothing.” “So, will you go?” he asked. “Fine,” I said. By now the macaroni and cheese is going to be congealed anyway. Grammyma always said not to even try the boxed stuff, but did I listen to her? Of course, not. “OK. I’ll wait here while you get ready.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean get ready? What if I told you that I was ready right now?”

To his credit, Richard barely even glanced at the booty-short length pajama bottoms and threadbare tank top I was wearing in an effort to combat the heat that was getting to me even though I was keeping the air conditioning blasting. He simply shrugged and pointed toward the door. “Alright. Great. Let’s go.” I glared at him and whipped around to stomp up the stairs to my bedroom. “Out of your ever-fucking mind. Seriously think I’m going to be seen in public looking like this? What’s wrong with you?” I muttered under my breath as I stomped. I knew very well by the time that I got to the bedroom that I was very close to falling off the rails, but I didn’t care. This baby was going to be inside me for another couple of weeks, and I was going to ride that hormone excuse right up until they popped a pacifier in her mouth and declared

me officially done with being pregnant.

**** Richard

That was not the reaction that I was hoping for. I had gone to town that afternoon and paid to have the thrift shop opened up to prove something to Rue, and that wasn’t that I was the same overbearing, over-indulged prick that she evidently thought I was. Now that she was up in her bedroom slamming drawers so loudly that I was slightly worried some of the ceiling plaster was going to come down, I realized that anything that I thought I was going to accomplish by showing up here was probably futile. She had made it very clear to me when she walked away from me at that restaurant

that she didn’t want anything to do with me personally anymore. From that moment until the baby was born, we were nothing but business acquaintances on either side of a transaction, and when that transaction was over, we didn’t have any further need to be a part of each other’s lives. That just hadn’t been good enough for me. Not then and definitely not now. I had wanted to go back to her apartment the day after that night, to force her to talk to me so that I could tell her what had really happened between Flora and me at the hotel earlier in the evening, but something told me that going after her so soon after it all happened was the worst thing that I could do. She was devastated and overcome with a level of emotion that I knew that I couldn’t even begin to understand. I felt like I needed to give her some time, just a couple of days to calm down, and then I would be able to talk to her. When I tried to call her, however, she never answered and soon I was

blocked. I went to her apartment and found it completely empty, but the moving crew said that they hadn’t had anything to do with this move. I couldn’t get in touch with Christopher or Tessie, and I didn’t have contact information for any of the people I had met in Whiskey Hollow. None of them had had reason to give me their phone numbers, and far be it for any of the businesses around here to actually have websites. As soon as that thought rolled through my mind I winced and chastised myself for it. That was exactly the type of thought that had driven Rue away from me and had put me in the position that I was in now. I really didn’t mean it the way that it sounded. It was a world that I didn’t understand, and that made me nervous, but it was also a world that I saw shining through Rue’s eyes every time she smiled and heard in her voice, especially when she got sleepy. It was also something that I knew that one day, a day that was coming sooner and

sooner, I was going to see in my daughter. Our daughter. Above me I heard the door to Rue’s closet slam and a little bit of plaster from the ceiling came drifting down. I watched it fall to the floor in front of me and shook my head at it. That’s alright. I’ll make sure it gets fixed. If I can convince Rue to let me. Finally, I heard Rue coming down the stairs and I looked up at her. She looked so beautiful it nearly took my breath away. She had brushed out her thick hair until it hung shining around shoulders left bare by the sundress she was wearing. White and covered in delicate eyelet, the dress fell to her ankles and accentuated her growing belly. I wanted so much to reach out and gather her up into my arms, to kiss her and tell her I loved her, but I knew that I couldn’t. There was more that I needed to say to her before that. She needed to know what

happened and why before she would ever be able to take that and fully know how she felt about it. Instead, I reached up to take her hand and help her down the last few steps. Though I wasn’t sure she would, Rue accepted my hand and held it lightly in her fingers until she was standing beside me. The touch of her skin on mine again was warm and tingling, and I wished that she wouldn’t let go. But she did, and I had nothing left to do but usher her out of the house and toward the surprises that I had waiting for her. I turned to close the door behind us as we stepped out of the house and when I turned back around to go down the steps I nearly ran into Rue. She was stopped at the first step, staring ahead of her at the old grass-studded gravel parking area in front of the house. “What is that?” she asked. “Where’s your limo?”

I stepped up beside her and couldn’t help but puff up my chest slightly. I hooked my thumbs in the beltloops of my pants the way that I had seen some of the other men do and rocked back slightly on my heels. “I bought a truck,” I said. She turned and looked at me disbelievingly. “You didn’t trade in the limo for that, did you?” she asked. “No,” I said, shaking my head, feeling somewhat less puffy at the tone of her voice. “The limo is back in the city with Abraham. He brought me down here, so I could buy the truck and then he went back.” She nodded, but it seemed less like she was acknowledging what I was saying and more like she was trying to appease me. Turning back to the truck, Rue walked down the steps and across the

yard. She walked around the perimeter of the truck, examining it. As she did, I started to notice more of the dings and dents in it than I had when I was standing in the sparse used car lot. I had been promised that the hulking, somewhat bulbous blue truck had a lot of character, and that that was perfect for fitting in around here. Now that I was seeing the little patches that the man had assured me were just a bit of flaked-off paint and noticing that they were actually bits of rust, and sections of the body that looked distinctly like they had been rammed by either large animals or human heads, I was wondering if that was actually the case at all. By the look on Rue’s face as she walked around the front and back to me, I was fairly certain it wasn’t. “You bought this from Cletus, didn’t you?” she asked. I nodded. “How much did he charge you for it?” she

asked. “Four thousand,” I told her, feeling a little bit of uncertainty in my voice. Rue laughed, but quickly rolled her lips in and covered her mouth to try to muffle it. She shook her head. “Oh, Richard. He added an extra zero when he saw you coming.” She glanced at the truck again. “Maybe an extra two zeroes.” “Well, let’s go. I’m sure you’re hungry.” She looked at me as if she wanted to make a snappy comeback, but at the same time she couldn’t really deny that she was hungry and wanted to get going as much as I did. We climbed into the truck and I waited while she wrestled her seatbelt into place around her belly. I had the compulsion to reach out and touch the full swell. It had been weeks since I had been able to touch her

belly and feel the baby moving around within her. I knew that the baby would be bigger and stronger now, and I longed to feel her, but I didn’t push my luck. I had gotten Rue into the truck with me. That was the first step. I still felt like I needed to step lightly or risk her hopping out and heading back to the house, taking any hope right along with her. “Where are we going to dinner?” Rue asked as the truck lurched somewhat reluctantly to life and started away from the house. “That’s up to you,” I said. “We can go anywhere you like. Is there anything in particular you’re craving?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her tense slightly and turn to look out of her window without answering me. Something about the question had bothered her and I felt guilty for asking, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what I had done wrong. We continued on in silence for a few more

minutes. She hadn’t given me any directions, so I was just driving toward town. I wanted so much to tell her everything that I was thinking, but I held back. I wanted to spend more time with her. I wanted to give her back the night that had been taken from us, but in a way that would show her what I was holding in my heart. Only then would I be ready to tell her everything, and feel confident that she was ready to hear it. Suddenly I felt an ominous shake in the truck. I gripped the wheel harder and eased up on the gas a little, wondering if I might have offended it as well. The truck shook again, and I saw Rue reach up to grab onto the handle above her door. Her hand pressed to her belly and I knew things weren’t looking good for our road trip. Deciding it would be better to go ahead and swerve off of the road rather than having the truck die right in the middle of it, I turned slightly and let the truck glide into the field to our side. We had gotten a few yards

in when the truck seemed to take one last shuddering breath and then stopped. I turned the key a few times, but it was completely futile. The engine didn’t even sputter. It was finished. This is just getting along spectacularly well. “I guess I can get out and push,” I said. “If you were going to push, why did you come out in the middle of a field where the tires are going to sink into the dirt and make it virtually impossible to get out on your own, because I promise you that that is not the pushing that I’ve been preparing for?” I peered out of the window at the ground below and then back at her. “I don’t think that I really thought this all the way through,” I admitted. “Mmm-hmm,” she said in acknowledgement and unhooked her seatbelt.

Well, that’s it. I had a good run. Actually, no. No, I didn’t. That was terribly unsuccessful. “Where are you going?” I asked. I figured at least if I knew where she was headed, it would be easier to follow her. “I thought that you wanted to have dinner.” “I do,” I said. “Then come on.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Richard

I was so stunned and confused about what was happening that Rue had a bit of a head start getting out of the truck, but I quickly followed. By the time that I got around to the back, she had let down the tailgate and was doing her level best to climb up inside. Her belly was hampering her progress and the length of her skirt wasn’t helping her much, either. I tried to figure out the most diplomatic way that I could help her, but the best that I could do was get behind her and grab onto her hips so that when she tried to launch herself up again I could push her. As I took the position, however, I felt a shiver ripple through me, memories of another time that I had taken such a position behind her. I wasn’t helping her into a

truck that time, and she certainly wasn’t wearing this much clothing. Rue grunted as I pushed her up and she landed on her hands and knees in the bed of the truck. She crawled forward a few paces and then turned to look at me. “Nailed it,” she said. She pulled herself up to her knees and then got up so that she sat on one of the wheel wells. I climbed up after her and made my way to the tool box at the back of the bed. I had stocked it before driving to her house and now I was particularly happy that I had had the ideas that I had. Opening the box and leaning the lid back against the cabin, I reached in and pulled out two thick quilts. I spread one of them out on the bottom of the bed and then rolled up the other to create a pillow I positioned at the base of the tool box. Sitting down, I turned and rested my back against the makeshift pillow. It took

a few seconds for all of my muscles to relax, as if the very concept of sitting in the back of a truck in secondhand clothing in the middle of an unknown field was so completely foreign to me that my body was attempting to reject it. I took a few breaths, however, allowing the warmth of the evening air and the fresh sweetness of the slight breeze that rippled over us relax me. I leaned my head back and looked up at the sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars,” I murmured. The sky looked so much bigger here, as if it had actually gotten larger and gained millions more stars. “It’s beautiful,” Rue said. I made an agreeing sound and a slow sigh, then lifted my head to look at her, thinking back to what she had said before getting out of the truck.

“What about dinner?” I asked. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “Can I use your phone?” I reached into my pocket and withdrew my phone, handing it over to her. She took it and touched the screen, then reached over and grabbed my hand, pressing the sensor on to the back to my fingertip to unlock the device. I laughed as she dropped my hand and brought the phone closer to her. Rue dialed and then held the phone to her ear. “Hey, Bubba Ray, it’s Rue…. I’m doing just fine, how are you?...That’s good to hear. Listen…. No, no baby yet. I still have a couple of weeks yet…. Thank you. I’m hoping for a nice smooth delivery, too…. No, Bubba Ray, I can’t change my mind. That’s not how it works. Listen…Thank you for the offer, but I don’t know how Marge would feel about that…No, I don’t think that a Dixie cup and a turkey baster would actually work. Listen, I

have found myself in a little bit of an awkward situation this evening and I think that you could help me out…. Yeah, Richard is here with me. He’s kind of why I’m in the awkward situation…No, I’m not talking about the baby, but that is definitely feeling more awkward by the moment…Yeah, I heard that Cletus sold him a truck.” “Who are you talking to?” I whispered. Rue held up a finger and turned slightly away from me. “Yeah, it’s that bad. Totally took him for a ride. That’s actually kind of the problem…. Yeah, it’s not running anymore…. The big field behind the MacGregor place. I was hoping that you’d maybe send some supper this way…Whatever looks good tonight…Thank you, Bubba Ray. I’ll be looking for him.” She ended the call and handed the phone back to me casually, apparently not seeing the

stony look that I was giving her. I tucked it back into my pocket and leaned back against the pillow again. “What was that all about?” I asked. “You said that you wanted to have dinner,” she said. “I figured this is where you brought us, so we’ll have dinner here. Our very dedicated waiter will be here in just a few minutes.” “What are we having?” I asked. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said. There were a few moments of silence as we both enjoyed the evening around us and then she turned back to me. “Look, I’m sorry about all of those things that I said to you that night.” “It’s alright,” I said. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry about all the screaming and embarrassing you in front of, well, everyone.”

“It’s alright.” “No. I’m sorry about the dick-in-the-mouththing, and the pig pen thing, and the blow it up your ass thing.” “You didn’t say that.” “Oh. Well, I meant to, and I’m sorry for that.” I wanted to laugh. Even though those few minutes in the restaurant were some of the most mortifying that I had ever experienced in my life, thinking back on them made me realize just how hilarious it actually was. These were people who were mortified by people who wore the wrong color to social events or didn’t know the proper etiquette for a thank you note, and there Rue was yelling about my dick. I kind of loved it. “It’s alright,” I said again. “You did what you felt that you needed to do.”

She nodded, and we fell silent again for another few seconds. “I guess you came to talk about the baby,” she said. “What?” I said. “The baby,” Rue said, running her hands along the sides of her belly as if she thought that I had somehow forgotten. “I’m guessing since I’m so close to my due date that you want to talk about everything so that we have a plan in place.” I tried to stop her, but she just kept on talking. “I’ve been thinking more about the whole induction thing that the doctor talked about. I’m still not sure that that’s something that I want to do, but if you would rather go ahead and schedule a time that would be convenient for you and Flora, I understand. I have a doctor’s appointment Tuesday, so I can talk to her about it then if that’s something you’ve been considering.”

“Rue,” I said, finally able to get my voice in. “That’s not what I came here to talk to you about.” “Oh,” she said, looking taken aback, but not asking anything further.

**** Rue

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. I had been bracing myself to have that conversation with him. I knew that we needed to talk about the logistics of the birth and what was going to happen afterwards. We had gone over the basic procedure with the lawyer at the beginning of the process, but we hadn’t gone over the details yet. Little things that seemed like details that we could figure out later, early in the pregnancy were suddenly pressing and we needed to figure out things like if he

expected to be in the room with me during delivery and how long I was going to stay in the hospital. Even smaller issues like how I was going to get to the hospital when I went into labor and what I was supposed to bring with me in my hospital bag suddenly seemed tremendously important and I figured that he felt the same way. Why else would he want to come all this way to talk to me? I leaned closer to him to get a better look at the shirt he was wearing, wanting to get past this strange moment. The shirt he was wearing was definitely a mechanic’s shirt and I could see the name embroidered on it. “That’s Jeb’s shirt,” I said. “What?” Richard asked. “That shirt,” I said. “It says ‘Jeb’ on it. It’s Jeb Montaigne’s shirt.” Richard grabbed the embroidered section of

the shirt and tilted it up, tucking his chin as far in as he could so he could look down at it. “Do you know Jeb?” he asked. “Of course, I know Jeb. Everybody with a car knows Jeb. He’s the best mechanic around. Brilliant with vehicles, not so much with anything else. That’s probably how you ended up with his shirt.” “What do you mean?” “I once heard Jeb mention that his wife Lula went to the dry cleaner every Wednesday. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he could possibly be talking about since the only dry cleaner around is also a key grinder, locksmith, bait and tackle shop, and bakery. Not a good bakery. Mostly molasses cookies. But the dry cleaner part hadn’t really been in operation for years since no one around here is big on clothing that needs to be dry cleaned. Anyway, I asked why he thought that and

he told me that she did her errands in town every Wednesday and that every time she came back she had pants and shirts and skirts with her, and all the ones that he had torn up or stained were missing. He figured that they were cleaning and mending his clothes and she was going to get them every week. Of course, I knew for a fact that she was going to the thrift store because I saw her in there two weeks in a row and she told me that she always went on Wednesdays because that was the day of the week when they would change up the colors on the tags that indicated how much each of the items was discounted. She’d get there early so that she could be the first one to go through the good stuff.” “So, what was happening to his shirts?” “Lula was going through his closet and the hampers every week and weeding out the ones that were too stained or torn up and either tearing them up for rags or throwing them away. Then she would

go to the thrift store and replace them. She convinced him that they needed to be dry cleaned because that would make them last longer. For some reason he never questioned why she was washing them in her usual laundry, too.” “So how did I end up with this?” Richard asked, indicating his shirt again. “He must have thought that if he brought it in and dropped it off, it would be ready for Lula when she went on Wednesday.” Richard laughed, his chest seeming to open up with the sound as it came out. “You know,” he said, “come to think of it, I think I might have had the honor of making Jeb’s acquaintance when I bought this truck.” “You did?” I asked. “I took it by his shop to look it over. He recommended that I bring it back for a full

inspection tomorrow.” I nodded, trying hard not to laugh at him again. I looked down at the quilt we were sitting on and ran my hand along it, feeling the soft fabric and the tiny stitches that went through it. “This looks like one of Norma’s quilts,” I said. “It is,” he told me. “Both of them are.” I lifted my eyes to him sharply. “What did you do? Come here and hit every business you possibly could before coming to my house?” “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Why would you do that?” “I know that I wasn’t the most open and adaptable person in the world when I first came here, and that that hurt you. I wanted to show you

that I’m sorry, that I would never purposely insult you or make you feel bad. I wanted to show you that I’m willing to do this. To do all of this.” “Do all of what?” I asked. My lungs were starting to feel smaller and my heart was trembling in my chest. I didn’t understand what he was saying, and I didn’t know how to react. “This,” he said again, gesturing around him as if to encompass all of Whiskey Hollow. “I don’t have to live my life in the city. I don’t have to have the mansion, the cars, the tailors, all of that. I want to show you that I can be here, with you, and live this life if that’s what you want.” I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Was he seriously suggesting that he and Flora were going to come live in the Hollow and raise the baby? Why in the living fuck would they

do that? Before I could answer I heard the puttering of a tractor approaching and I turned to see Clive coming toward us through the moonlight. He was like the least impressive knight in shining armor ever, but I had never been more relieved to see him. One hand was gripping the steering wheel and the other was trying desperately to hold onto a large picnic basket that was sitting beside him on the edge of the seat. He drove up alongside the truck and heaved the basket into the bed so that Richard could grab it and set it down on the quilt. “How are you doing tonight, Clive?” I asked. “Doing great,” the ancient man said. “I’ve never been a delivery driver before. I didn’t know that Bubba Ray was thinking of offering this service.” “Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” I said. “I have a feeling this is just a one-time thing. Kind of an

emergency roadside assistance situation.” “What do I owe you?” Richard asked. “How should I know?” Clive asked in a husky voice that sounded like it held half the state’s tobacco production in it. “I just hauled the basket. I don’t even know what’s in there.” There was a hint of suspicion in his voice, as if somewhere in his mind he thought that he had gotten himself embroiled in some sort of unscrupulous espionage work and he wasn’t sure if he was appalled or intrigued. “Just check the basket,” I said. “Bubba Ray puts a list inside his bags, so you know he’s charging you right. It’ll have the total on it.” Richard opened the basket and the warm, somewhat confusing, smells of Bubba Ray’s food came out. I filled my lungs with them and smiled. It had been so long before I came home permanently

since I had eaten this food and it was comforting and familiar. He reached in and pulled out a list, scribbled on the back of a menu, and checked the total. Taking out his wallet, Richard handed Clive a bill and then reached for another. “For you,” he said. “Thank you for your prompt and friendly service.” Clive beamed and tucked the tip into the pocket of a pair of jeans that looked almost as worn as the one’s Richard had on. He waved and started off, puttering into the night back toward Bubba Ray’s restaurant where he sometimes helped with the cooking, sometimes did a few dishes, and sometimes just sat at the bar waiting for time to go by. I reached into the basket and started pulling out plates and bowls of food. Some of them I could tell what they were immediately, but others I figured were relatively new offerings and I was

going to have to consult with the menu to figure out what exactly it was that he had served us. I started arranging the plates on the quilt, ran out of room, and handed the last couple to Richard, who placed them beside him. “What is all this?” he asked. “The specialties of Bubba Ray’s Rojo Cuelo Cantina,” I said. “Rojo Cuelo Cantina?” Richard asked as if he thought, or maybe hoped, that he had heard me wrong. I nodded. “Yep. His grandfather was from Mexico. At least that’s what they call it. Truth is, his daddy ran off after sticking up a Wells-Fargo truck and took his mama with him, not knowing that she was pregnant. She ended up having him there after they had changed their names and started working as

avocado pickers.” “They became migrant workers…in Mexico?” Richard asked. I nodded, and he nodded back, hoping to find some common ground in the gesture. “What did they change their name to?” “Ramirez,” I said. “Ramirez. Bubba Ray Ramirez.” “Yep. So, when the heat died down they came back here, his grandfather got married, had a son, who had a son, and there we have Bubba Ray.” “Bubba Ray. Bubba Ray Ramirez.” “Yes.” “That has a nice ring to it.” “Well, their time in Mexico apparently gave them more than just their musical names. They picked up an affinity for the food there and when

they came back here, Bubba Ray’s greatgrandfather decided he was going to open the firstever Mexican restaurant in Whiskey Hollow. You can imagine how well that went over. So, they started tweaking the recipes a little at a time and by the time that Bubba Ray took over, he completely switched up the menu to the delightful creations that you see here today. Mexican Southern fusion.” “That sounds promising.” I laughed as he turned over the menu and scanned the listed items. “Country Quesadilla and Warm Creamy Salsa?” he asked. I gestured toward a plate and bowl beside me. “Just don’t call it a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. He hates that.” “What is it then?”

“It’s a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup,” I told him. “But there’s just the one piece of bread and it has some chili peppers and fancy cheeses in it.” “You know,” he said, “I think I’ll try some of those Thick-Style Chips,” he said. I picked up a plate of flattened, fried biscuits and a small bowl of melted pimento cheese. “You have to try the queso,” I told him. “The secret to really enjoying a meal from Bubba Ray’s is that you have to deconstruct. You get your food and then you have to kind of take it apart into its individual elements before you can really understand it.” “He does know that the name of the restaurant is wrong, right? I’ve taken immersion Spanish classes for work and I can tell you for certain that that’s not right.”

“Bubba Ray might be exceedingly proud of his faux-Mexican heritage, but it didn’t inspire him enough to get through the two years of high school Spanish. He does, however, watch all of his sports broadcasts in Spanish.” “He does?” Richard asked, sounding surprised. “Yep. He has absolutely no idea how soccer is played or who is leading the league in baseball this year.” “Good thing there aren’t any bookies around here.” I nodded my acknowledgement and handed him half of a Chicken and Waffles Taco. “Jeb and I have a history you know,” I said, catching sight of the embroidery on his shirt again. “You do?” he asked, looking around to try to find a place to set the food and then looking back at

me. “Mmm-hmmm. We were supposed to get married.” “You were engaged to Jeb?” he asked. All the polishing and finishing and decorum in the world couldn’t cover up the horror in those words. “Not exactly,” I said. “We were born right around the same time and our fathers decided that it would be just perfect for us to get married when we grew up. That way we could combine all of the land and our family’s assets, and climb right to the top of the grand power struggle that is Whiskey Hollow.” “You could have been Lula,” he said. I nodded. “I could have,” I said. “So, you see, I

understand social pressures.” “I see that,” Richard said. “What happened with Jeb?” “It just didn’t work out,” I said. “Too many family politics. Different values. I wanted to get the hell out of here and he wanted to stay forever. I couldn’t stand being near him for more than five minutes and the thought of waking up beside him even once made my stomach turn. You know, classic conflicts.” Richard laughed and took a bite of one of the chips. He gave a somewhat surprised sound of approval and swallowed. “The romantic tragedy of our times,” he said. “Speaking of which,” I said, knowing a good segue when I heard it. “How is Flora?” He winced and lowered the plate of food he held to his lap. He finished chewing the bite of

taco-seasoned fried chicken in his mouth and let out a long breath. “That’s actually what I came here to talk to you about.” I braced myself, feeling the fun rapport that we had managed to find again drain away. Before he could open his mouth again, though, we heard whooping and hollering coming from across the field and the squealing of ATVs cutting through the grass. “What’s that?” he asked. “Just a couple of teenagers out to wreak havoc and enjoy the summer night,” I said. “Probably hopped up on moonshine.” “Moonshine?” “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it when you were picking out Big Blue here,” I said. “Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine. His pride and joy.

It’s that little twist of clementine at the end that’s exactly the wrong thing to do. He bottles it up and gives it out at Christmas. That’s how most of the teenagers get a hold of it. The bottles make wonderful doorstops. Tie-downs for picnic blankets. Window cleaner. Not so much adult consumption.” I could see Richard’s face fall and I tilted my head at him. “What?” I asked. He turned and pushed the sliding window on the back of the cabin open. He reached inside and came up a second later with a bottle of moonshine. I laughed. “You bought a bottle?” I asked. He reached in again and came out with another. “I bought two.”

I threw back my head and laughed harder, pressing my hand to the side of my belly. “I thought that we could celebrate,” he said. “Celebrate what?” “How close we are to the baby being born.” “You bought unregulated moonshine to celebrate a still-pregnant woman?” “It probably wasn’t the best choice.” I shook my head. “No. Probably not.” He sat the bottles down beside him and leaned slightly closer to me. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened that night at the restaurant,” he said. The smile melted from my face and I shook my head.

“I don’t think that we have anything else that we need to talk about, Richard. I saw you and Flora together at the hotel. I don’t need any of the pandering or the big sweeping romantic explanations. You and I had fun. You needed a little break from her and I was convenient. I understand. We don’t believe so much in the fairy tales out here.” “Rue, that’s not what happened.” “Of course, it is. She got cold feet about the baby and left, so I was the warm body you needed to get you through, but when she changed her mind, you realized that she really was what you wanted. After all, she’s what you’ve been looking forward to your whole life.” “I wouldn’t really say I’ve been looking forward to it.” “Well, she’s what you’ve expected. It’s easier to just go with what you know. I get that. It’s

your future. It’s your baby. What I felt, or what I thought that you felt, doesn’t matter.” “But Rue, that’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you…” I shook my head, a wistful smile coming to my lips and a veil of tears covering my eyes. “When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to make me oatmeal raisin cookies. There was nothing like coming into the house and smelling Grammyma’s cookies baking. They were my favorite thing in the world. Then one day I came home and there was a big plate of oatmeal raisin cookies sitting on the counter. When I reached for one, though, she told me that they weren’t for me. She had made them for a friend of hers from church. I was really upset, but there was nothing that I could do. She didn’t make them for me.” “I don’t think I’m following you,” Richard said.

I sighed painfully. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you want something or how much you think that you should have it. Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be yours.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rue

I wished that I could get out of the truck and run away. I didn’t want to be a part of this moment any longer. When I looked up at Richard, though, he didn’t look upset like I would expect him to. Instead, he had the hint of a smile on his lips. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he said. “You do have it. Or at least you could, if you want it.” “I don’t understand,” I said. “I saw you with Flora at the hotel. I saw the way that she was hugging you.” “She was hugging me goodbye,” Richard said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Richard tried to come toward me through all of the food and reached for my hand. “Flora had changed her mind,” he said, and I felt my heart sink. “But not about the baby. Just about me. It was a complete surprise when she called me that day. I didn’t even know that she was back in the city. I had absolutely no intention of seeing her, but she said that it was really important that we meet, that it had to do with the baby. As horrible as it sounds, until that moment I hadn’t even thought about the fact that she still had anything to do with the baby. She had been gone for so long that I had just put it behind me that she was still legally involved. When she reminded me of that I knew that I needed to see her. The plan was to meet her at her hotel, iron everything out, and then still get to the restaurant in time for our date.”

“So, what happened? What do you mean she changed her mind about you, but not the baby?” “When I got to the hotel I could tell that she was scheming from the first second I saw her. She was wearing one of my favorite dresses and the perfume that I got her for her birthday last year.” I held up a hand, squeezing my eyes closed for a brief moment. “I really don’t need to hear all of this,” I said. “The point is, none of that mattered to me. I didn’t care what she looked like or smelled like or even anything that she had to say.” “What did she have to say?” “She told me that she had been thinking a lot about us since she had been gone and realized that we had had a good thing going before we decided that we were going to have a baby. She saw all of

the other people our age getting married and having these perfect lives, and she realized that she wasn’t going to get by in society without a husband, much less maintain the position that she wanted by not having me.” “How romantic,” I said bitterly. “Exactly.” “So, what? She told you that she was jealous of all of the other people because they were married, and she realized that she had made a royal screw up by leaving you.” “Yes, but she didn’t want to go back to what we had been. She wanted to go back before that. She wanted to go back before what she thinks is the point when everything went wrong between us.” “When you decided to have a baby,” I said. “Yes. She thinks that I put too much pressure on her to start a family and then when we found out

that she couldn’t get pregnant, it just made things worse between us. The thing is, though…that was a lie.” “What?” I asked, shocked by what he was telling me. He nodded. “I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t know if it would matter to you, but I found out that she lied to me about it. When she went to the doctor she actually found out that she was perfectly fine.” “Why did she lie to you about that?” “When I called her out for it she said that even then she wasn’t convinced about the whole having a baby idea. She decided to lie about not being able to have a baby hoping that I would feel sorry for her and drop the whole idea. When I mentioned that we could consider surrogacy, she

didn’t really have any way to argue with it. She had made such a fuss about wanting to be a mother, saying that she didn’t want to do a baby contract would only seem strange. I think she hoped that either the process wouldn’t work, or she could pretend to be so devastated by the whole thing that I would give up on it.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I’m not following you. Why does any of this matter?” “When we met at the hotel she said that she wanted us to go back to before all of that and be just us again. We could go forward with our formal engagement, get married, and move on with our lives. She even suggested that one day we could have a baby of our own.” “But what about this baby?” I asked, rubbing my belly where I could feel the baby rolling around in response to the spicy food I had eaten.

Richard reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. He handed it to me and I took it with shaking hands, unfolding it before looking down at it because I worried that if I looked at it for even a few seconds before opening it I never would. When I looked down I saw that it was a photocopy of a legal document, the letterhead indicating that it was from the surrogacy lawyer that we had been using. I read through it, my heart beating faster the further I got through the complex legal jargon. I read through it twice more before I dared look at the bottom of the page. When I did, my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t dare allow myself to believe that I understood what those words said. “She gave this to you?” I asked, my voice powdery. Richard nodded. “It completely releases her of all parental

rights to the child. In essence, it says that she is no longer a part of the contract agreement and that she is to have no further involvement or obligations. She told me that she wanted me to sign one as well and get you to sign further papers nullifying the original contract. We would still pay you the full amount of the contract fee and all of your expenses, plus and extra inconvenience fee.” “Inconvenience fee?” I asked, horrified just by the way that that sounded. “Because it’s just an inconvenience to suddenly have the people who wanted me to be pregnant in the first place to suddenly decide that they don’t want the baby?” “According to her,” Richard said. “But that just shows even more the type of person that she is. She even suggested that we could help you find some sort of alternative situation.” “Like farming out the baby to another couple?” I shuddered with the anger that was

building through me. “So, is this what you came here to tell me? That Flora wants you back as long as you don’t come with a baby in tow, and that you want me to sign papers saying that you can just abandon the baby that you made and leave me to figure out what to do with it?”

**** Richard

I could see the pain and anger in Rue’s eyes and it was cutting through me. I never wanted to see that, I never wanted her to go through a single moment of heartache. “Rue, I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Don’t you see? I don’t want you to be left with the baby, and I don’t want to be either. This is our baby, and I want us to raise her together.”

There were a few moments when she just stared back at me as if she didn’t fully understand what I was saying to her. Then I saw her eyes widen slightly. “You do?” she asked. I nodded, pushing some of the plates out of the way so that I could get closer to her. “Of course, I do. I never stopped wanting to. I meant every single word I said to you when I told you that I saw our lives together and that I couldn’t imagine anyone being the mother of my child but you. I told Flora that it didn’t matter what she said or what she thought, that we were never going to have a life together. I told her that we had never really had a life together at all, and that there was nothing that either of us could do to try to force that to happen between us.” I slid closer to Rue and took her hands. “I told her that I was in love and that I couldn’t imagine going through life without

that woman, or the baby I hoped we would raise together.” “You did?” she asked, her voice filled with tears and barely above a whisper. “I did. Lying to me about not being able to have a baby is the best thing that Flora ever did for me because it led me to you. I knew from the first moment that I saw you, even on a security camera screen, that there was something about you that was different, something that was special that I needed to know. Something inside me even then knew that finding you was the key to me having a happy life. I didn’t handle things the way that I should have. I shouldn’t have gone to see her without talking to you first. I should have made sure that you knew what was going on from the very first moment that I realized she had lied to me. I can’t do anything about that now. I can’t go back and fix those mistakes, though there is nothing in

this world that I would like more than if I could. But I’m here with you now. I can look at you. I can touch you. I can tell you finally that I love you and I want more than I could ever express to you for us to be the family that we were always meant to be.” Soft tears were sparkling on Rue’s cheeks now and I reached up to brush one away as she nodded. She grabbed onto my hand and held it to her skin, tilting her face to press more into the touch and closing her eyes softly as if just enjoying the feeling. When she opened her eyes again, she was smiling. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “You do?” She nodded and laughed. “Yes,” she said. “I thought that dreaming of a life with you and this baby was far too much. I thought that I was just fooling myself even

pretending that it was a possibility. I tried to convince myself that I had known what I was getting myself into at the very beginning of all of this, and that anything that I was feeling was just part of it, that I didn’t have a choice and there was nothing that I could do. I hoped that I would get over it and be able to move on one day.” “I never want you to move on,” I told her. She shook her head. “I never want to, either.” I leaned forward, drawn to her by all of the emotions that I had been feeling and the promise of love and shared passion that I saw in her eyes. She moved toward me, meeting me in the middle so our mouths touched and melded together, allowing us to melt into one another. I felt no urgency in the kiss, nothing rushed or hurried. We didn’t need the desperation now.

When the kiss ended, I reached back for one of the bottles of Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine that I had sat down and popped it open. Despite Rue’s warnings, I put the bottle to my lips and took a massive swig. The moment that the burning liquid touched my tongue, I knew exactly why the festively decorated bottles had been relegated to holding open doors. I gagged, pulling the bottle away from me as fast as I could. Rue laughed, the full, rich sound of her voice filling the air around us. The moonshine seared my throat and landed in my belly like an ember and I coughed, choking on both the feeling of the raw alcohol and the taste made all the more unpleasant by the eponymous twist of clementine at the end. “Does MacGregor grow anything in this field anymore?” I asked when I felt like I had recovered enough to force my voice through my tender throat. “No,” Rue said, shaking her head. “Why?”

“Good,” I said, putting the bottle over the side of the bed to pour the rest of the contents onto the ground. “I just wanted to check. I’m fairly certain that nothing will ever grow again on the ground that this stuff touches.” This sent Rue into another gale of laughter and she tossed her head back, her hands grasping at her belly as she laughed. Suddenly the sound stopped, and I looked at her to see a wide-eyed look on her face. “Um,” she started. “What is it?” I asked, instantly concerned. “I think my water just broke,” she said. I felt my heart leap up into my throat, but I shook my head. “No, no,” I said. “That can’t be. You still have a couple of weeks to go.”

“Well, you might want to tell your daughter that because I am pretty positive my water just broke and I’m starting to feel a…” her eyes squeezed shut and her face twisted as she drew in a breath and then gasped it out, “contraction.” “What do I do?” I asked, in a sudden panic as I realized that she really was in labor in the back of a broken down pickup truck in a dark field. “How are we supposed to get you to the hospital in time?” “Calm down,” she said, breathing slowly now as she seemed to be in between the pains of her contractions. “There’s plenty of time. A firsttime labor can last for a day. Even if it’s not that long, I’m sure that we still have hours. Just call for an ambulance that can come out here and transport me to the maternity center.” She looked up at me. “That center does have an ambulance service, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“Um,” I said sheepishly. “No. That’s one thing that I didn’t arrange for yet. Since you were the only person who was going to use the center until the baby was born, and I figured that either I would be the one to bring you there when you went into labor, or you would get induced, I didn’t set up an ambulance service.” “Fantastic,” Rue said, her hands squeezing at the sides of her belly again as she went into another contraction. “Don’t worry,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I’m going to get you there. Just keep breathing.” I made a fast phone call and then tucked my phone away so that I could hold Rue’s hand, going back in my mind to the class that we took so I could try to coach her through the pain. Relief flooded through me when I heard the blades of a helicopter chopping through the air as it came toward us.

“You called a helicopter?” she asked, her voice high with surprise. I nodded. “We have to get you there somehow,” I said. “And that’s the fastest and safest way. Unless you want me to call up Jeb and see if he can fix Big Blue really quick.” Rue glared at me and shook her head. The helicopter landed a few hundred yards away and two men jumped out with a stretcher. I took Rue by the hand and helped her to her feet so that she could be ready when they got to her. “Hey,” she said just before the two men reached the side of the truck. I looked at her and she gave me a soft, meaningful smile. “We’re going to meet our baby tonight.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rue

All those things that I had read about labor in a first-time mother taking hours, and sometimes even days? Lies. All of it. I thought that I was going to be just fine and stay in absolute control throughout this labor. After all, I had so much time to get into that place in my mind and to settle into the big, beautiful maternity room Richard had designed specifically for me before it was time to deliver. Instead, I was already well into the deep breathing by the time the helicopter landed at the center and the contractions were piling one on top of the other as they wheeled me through the doors into the bright, shining new center. A staff that had had literally nothing to do but sit around and wait

for this moment seemed positively flabbergasted that I was actually in labor and started scurrying around as if they didn’t know what they were supposed to do. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, trying to block out everything around me, and concentrated just on the feeling of the contractions rolling through me. Every moment of pain was my body bringing my baby closer to birth, I reminded myself, trying to channel Kathryn and the energy that she said she was sending each of us. I wished that I had gone to more of those classes. I shouldn’t have let my own emotions get in the way of me doing what I knew I should be for the baby. There wasn’t anything that I could do about that now, and all I could do was try to remember everything that I possibly could about what she said and how she told us we would get through labor, and then hope that the doctor had even the slightest bit of that type of energy in her so that I could power through. I could feel deep,

aching pressure in my hip joints as we rolled into the labor room and I gritted my teeth against the pain as they picked me up and lowered me to the bed. “She’ll be right with you,” a dark-eyed nurse who seemed to be the only one of the bunch who didn’t go into a complete panic when I got there said as she attached me to a monitor. A moment later the door to the room opened and Kathryn stepped inside. I nearly sobbed with relief and turned to Richard, who smiled at me from the side of the bed. “Somehow, I thought that you might want to have her here,” he said. “Thank you.” Kathryn came to the bed and patted my arm. Just that touch comforted me and helped me to relax. I felt stronger and more in control now that

she was in the room with me. I’ll be damned. She really did have energy that she could send to us. “How are we feeling?” she asked. I nodded. “Fine.” “Well, let’s just take a peek and see what’s going on,” she said. She was so completely calm, unflustered and seemingly unfazed by the situation that I felt any reservations that I did feel disappear. Beside me Richard took my hand and I knew that everything was going to be perfect. Kathryn went to the end of the bed and a few seconds later lifted her head to look at me. “It seems we’re going to be having a baby very soon. Let’s get you up and walking around,

and see if we can get you through this phase.” She detached me from the monitor and I let her help me get out of my dress and into one of the hospital gowns before we walked out of the room. Richard came along with me and we roamed up one hallway and down another, pausing occasionally for me to get through a contraction. When one particularly difficult one hit, I turned and tipped forward into his arms, wrapping mine over his shoulders and leaning my head to his chest. I felt him take my hips with both hands and sway with me, making soothing sounds as the strength and warmth of his body helped to soothe me through the painful peak of the contraction and then down the other side until I was back to normal again. Something occurred to me as the pain eased and I lifted my eyes to look at him. “You took the classes,” I said. He nodded.

“I went back and finished them. It was a little more difficult without someone to actually coach, but I wanted to be as prepared as I could be. Just in case you let me be with you during this.” I pressed a kiss to his lips and breathed in the scent of him, enjoying that single moment of quiet before another contraction hit me. “Let’s move her back to the labor room so I can check in on her,” Kathryn said. As we were nearing the room another woman came rushing up to me. “I know that your birth plan says that you want to have a completely natural birth without the assistance of medication.” “Yes,” I said, instantly wanting her and her grating little voice away from me. “But by law I am required to discuss your options with you so that in the event that you

change your mind about how you wish to proceed through labor, you will be able to make an informed and safe decision.” “I don’t want to hear about it,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I am obligated to tell you that this type of support is available to you and will be administered according to your wishes if and when the need arises. I personally will be available to administer the medications and provide further support throughout the labor process to ensure that both you and your baby will remain healthy and safe.” I looked up at Richard. “You couldn’t have just had a private midwife on call to come to the house, could you?” I asked him. He laughed. “Somehow I don’t think that that would be

the best option.” Another contraction hit me, and I clenched my jaw at its intensity. The woman started talking again, but I held up a finger to silence her. When the pain eased I opened my eyes again and looked at her. She was staring back at me with a quizzical look on her face. “What was that?” she asked. “A contraction,” I told her. “I don’t think you’re going to need me, so I’m just going to go back to the lounge and wait” she said. She leaned closer so that she could whisper conspiratorially to me. “You appear to be kicking labor’s ass.” Damn right I was. I got onto the bed in the labor room and rested my head back against the pillow while Kathryn examined me.

“Well, everybody. We’re not going to have time to switch over to the delivery room. This baby is going to be making her grand appearance right here.” It felt like the world slowed around me, and yet, everything was moving so fast. I hadn’t even been at the hospital for an hour and already Kathryn was telling me that it was time to start pushing. At the beginning of this journey I thought that I was going to be afraid in this moment, but I wasn’t. I suddenly felt completely at ease, totally confident in myself and what my body was supposed to do. I could hear Richard and the nurse on either side of me cheering me on, encouraging me through every push, but I couldn’t hear the individual words that they were saying. It was all a blur of sound, blending with the beat of my heart and the rush of my own thoughts. Suddenly I heard a cry and I looked down to

see Kathryn gathering a tiny baby into her hands. I gasped, tears flowing freely now, and reached for her. In seconds I was cradling her to my chest, watching her relax as she listened to the sound of my heartbeat, the sound that she knew better than anything else. When I was finally transferred into the recovery room I lay back in the bed, a fresh cool sheet over me, and watched as Richard cradled the baby to his bare chest. He rocked her softly, his head ducked down so that he could whisper to his daughter. Our daughter.

**** Richard

The feeling of the tiny baby, only minutes old, curled against my chest was the most indescribably amazing experience that I had ever had. I was in awe of Rue, stunned at what I had just witnessed her do. I had only ever watched babies be delivered in movies and was geared up for the screaming, thrashing, and creative profanities that were always shown during those scenes. Yet, none of that happened. Rue had seemed almost impossibly calm throughout the entire process. I had seen the pain on her face and heard her as she focused on long, slow, deep breaths to carry her through the contractions, but never once had she screamed or fought. It was almost as though she and the baby had linked together, understanding one another and peacefully bringing each other through to the moment when she took her first breath and became a part of our family. Our family.

I still couldn’t believe how this night had unfolded. When I first started toward Whiskey Hollow with the goal of talking to Rue, I could only hope that she would listen to me. I hoped that maybe she would let me get all the way through everything that I wanted to say to her and then would say that she needed some time to think through it all. I couldn’t bring myself to even begin to wish for anything more than that. And I would have accepted that. After all she had gone through, I would have been willing to have that be the first step, and to continue to pursue her, to do anything that I needed to do to show her that what I had said to her was the absolute truth. Yet by some miracle she had opened her heart to me. She had not only heard what I had to say to her, but she had taken it within her, found the place inside of her heart that had always belonged to me, and returned it to me fully and completely. I touched a kiss to our daughter’s head

and glanced across the room at Rue. She had rested her head back and was sleeping peacefully, a look of contentment unlike any I had ever seen on her face. I had never seen her look more beautiful. I heard a gentle coo from my arms and realized that the baby had fallen asleep as well. As I brought her over to the bed and nestled her into Rue’s arms, it occurred to me that we hadn’t yet given her a name. The topic was something that had never come up between Rue and me. When we first started discussing the possibility of having a baby Flora and I had batted around ideas, but there had never been anything that had stood out to me, nothing that ever sounded like what I would want to call my daughter. I knew now that was because I was never intended to share a child with Flora so in my heart I didn’t really care what she thought of a name. Now I had an idea in mind, and all I needed to do was convince Rue that it was the right choice

for the little one that we shared. I walked over to the window of the birthing center room and parted the sheer curtains to look out of it at the sunlight that was now starting to come up over the horizon. This was the sun that would shine on the first full day of my daughter’s life. This would be the first sunlight that she ever saw, the sunlight that warmed the first outside air that she would ever breathe. And suddenly I knew that it was the only thing I was seeing through that window that I wanted her to grow up around. The maternity center around me had been built with such a purpose. It was meant to give Rue a place where she was going to get the very best in care throughout her pregnancy and during delivery, and that would keep her here close to my home and my work so that it was convenient for me to be involved with the process and then to bring my daughter right into her new world. Now, though, I

wasn’t seeing the world that I wanted for her. The city below was magnificent. It was filled with opportunity and the sizzling, almost frenetic energy that came from every person who scurried along the streets and filled the buildings doing what they needed to do to get by and reach for their aspirations. It was a place that meant a lot to me and one that had done incredible things in my life, but it wasn’t childhood. Of course, someday I would introduce our daughter to everything that the city had to offer and help her to find all of the opportunities that could possibly await her there. For now, though, she deserved to be where she wouldn’t be bound by societal rules and class warfare, where going outside to play didn’t mean having the driver bring you to the local park and trying to lose yourself for a time in that tiny patch of nature among the glittering glass towers and concrete sidewalks. As soon as Rue woke up, I was going to tell her that

my mind was fully made up. I wasn’t just willing to try to live the kind of life that she did in Whiskey Hollow. I wanted to make that my home. Our home. I could afford to cut down on my work and slow my pace, and I knew of a few projects that could use my attention, starting with getting the plans underway to restore Grammyma’s house and build our own home on the property. After that, I was going to explore the Hollow and get to know the people and the businesses a little better. It was time that I started investing in something other than myself.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dear Clementine, I can’t believe that you finally have a name. After so long of just thinking of you as “Baby,” it’s strange to have something else to write out. Your father was so excited when he told me his idea for giving you that name, and it immediately just seemed so perfect. I’m guessing that about eighteen years from now when I give you the scrapbook that I’ve been making for you that you will hate how you came to have that name and I will hear all sorts of complaints about it and declarations that I absolutely must let you change it, but for now I love it, so I’m not going to worry about that. I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I wrote to you. These last few weeks since you were born have been pretty hectic. You coming into the world

marked a little bit of a renaissance for Whiskey Hollow. Your papa has been scurrying around helping everybody he can. I’ll be the first to admit it hasn’t been easy for all of them to accept. You’ll learn soon enough that we are proud people here and accustomed to getting everything that we need in life through hard work. Some people see what he’s doing as charity or like he’s trying to buy his way into their good graces, but I’ve been following around behind him doing my very best to convince them that that is not the case. Instead, he just wants to thank the people who mean so much to me and make sure that the home that you know is as prosperous and wonderful as it can be. I’m not so sure that Whiskey Hollow is going to be the only place that you know. As much as I love it here and as much as your father has settled in, I know that there is so much more out there to discover. I didn’t have the chances that are available to you, and I want you to take all of

them. I remember being younger and wondering why anyone would want to stay here when they grew up and had opportunities. It took until I was grown up and left that I realized that not everybody has those opportunities. For some, life is where they are born and that is simply the way it is. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Never be ashamed of where you were born, Clementine. Now, I don’t necessarily mean that you need to share with everybody that your mama went into labor with you in the back of a beaten up, broken down pickup truck. You could probably go ahead and take some creative license with that. What I mean is that I never want you to feel like you are limited. I want you to love Whiskey Hollow for what it is, but also be able to go out and explore all that this world has to offer you. When you do come home, I want it to be because your heart is here, not because you feel obligated to. Anyway, I was telling you about the ways

Papa has been changing things around the Hollow. Well, maybe “changing” isn’t quite the right word for it. That makes it sound like he doesn’t like it here and is trying to make it something that it’s not. That is certainly not the case. Your papa has taken to this place even better than I hoped he ever would. There are times when I wonder if his family has some Hollow in the woodpile. Truth be told, I don’t really think that it would matter if he was trying to change it into something else. I don’t think that there is anything that he could do to make it any different than it is. The Hollow is just as resistant as the people in it and will keep on going no matter what. With the little sprinklings of good cheer that Papa has been spreading around, though, it will just keep on keeping on a little bit easier. The first thing that he did was buy Bubba Ray Ramirez a food truck and fund supplies for him for goodness knows how long. That way he can

bring his food to anyone he can drive to rather than only subjecting the Hollow to it. He says that he’s been watching that food TV channel like a religion recently and that with all of the fusion restaurants popping up everywhere, he’s going to be the next hot thing. And you know what? I believe him. I wouldn’t put anything past the man who can make an entire population of an area believe that little bitty triangles of white bread toast are nachos. Papa also says that he’s been talking to a friend of his in the city who does publishing. He might be able to get Bubba Ray his own cookbook. He and his wife Marge sent me a couple of recipes to include in here for you. They figure one day you’ll need to be able to cook for yourself and you should get started collecting recipes now. I’ve put them in along with one of Bubba Ray’s delivery menus from the night you were born. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll be famous, and you’ll be able to show it off. I’ll just

leave it up to you whether you actually follow the recipes, though. Just remember what I told your Papa…you’ve got to deconstruct. Oh, and as for Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine…it turns out it has amazing disinfectant properties. Some samples have been sent off for testing and he might get to start marketing it in the next year or so. He sent me a recipe for that, too. I’m going to go ahead and go now, Baby. The weather is gorgeous today and Papa and I are bringing you up to the old Crozet orchards to pick some apples. I’ll put pictures in here for you to see. I love you more than the moon and the sun and all the stars in space. Mama

Chapter Thirty

Bubba Ray’s Rojo Cuelo Cantina

Mi Casa, Su Casa, Y’all!

Breakfast

Breakfast Nachos – Triangles of white toast topped with scrambled eggs, chorizo, bacon, sausage gravy, and taco cheese with a sprinkling of shredded lettuce Mexican Omelet – Tri-color peppers and onions, taco seasoned beef, and crunched up taco shells inside a three-egg omelet. Served with a side of refried black-eyed peas and thick-style chips

Steak ‘n Huevos Rancheros – Sunny side up eggs served on chicken fried steak topped with warm salsa Churreos – Little bitty bits of fried dough with cinnamon flavored milk and a healthy shake of sugar. Not to be confused with the dessert option Lunch and Supper

Chicken and Waffles Taco – Taco-seasoned fried chicken in a jalapeno-studded waffle shell topped with a chipotle honey drizzle, salsa-slaw, and cilantro sour cream Country Quesadilla and Warm Creamy Salsa – Carefully balanced blend of crumbly white Mexican, taco, and American singles cheeses in a folded piece of homemade bread, grilled and served with chili pepper tomato salsa blended smooth and topped with sliced avocado

Thick-style Chips and Queso – Handflattened homemade biscuits deep fried and served with melted pimento cheese Green Pepper Relleno – Green pepper stuffed with crumbled meatloaf and mashed potatoes and flash fried. Served with seasoned rice and refried black-eyed peas Hoppin’ Juan – Refried black-eyed peas over a bed of seasoned rice. Served with hot pepper collards and jalapeno cornbread County Fair-jitas—Taco seasoned sausage, peppers, and onions served in a cast iron skillet with tortillas, chow chow and pimento queso South of the Brunswick Stew – Hearty blend of Ro-tel tomatoes and chilies, fiesta corn, and butterbeans in a seasoned broth with shredded chicken topped with cilantro sour cream and avocado

Catch of the Day – Always catfish Shrimp Cocktail Ole – Battered shrimp and grits with a drizzle of hot sauce, doused in tequila Cerveza Ceviche – Tiny bits of beer-battered fish and hush puppies all mixed up with peppers, corn, and onions, drizzled with malt vinegar and sitting in beer Chili in a Cornbread Bowl – Chili. Served in a cornbread bowl

Specialty Beverage Marge-arita – Named after Bubba Ray’s sweet wife. Marge’s own special blend of top shelf moonshine, tequila, and lemonade. Served in a chilled glass with an orange Kool-Aid powder rim Desserts Fran’s Flan – Tapioca pudding with

homemade caramel sauce Choreos – Batter-dipped and deep-fried Oreos rolled in cinnamon sugar and served with chocolate sauce. Golden or chocolate. Not to be confused with the breakfast option

From the Kitchen of Marge Ramirez Bubba Ray

Thick-Style Chips and Queso

Perfect for starting your meal, a munchie in the middle of the afternoon when you’re craving a little something but not quite ready for supper, or just as a nice lunch with a big pitcher of Margearitas. Make sure you fry the chips up good or they’ll be too soft for proper dipping in the queso. Melt the queso right before serving or it will get right gummy and you’ll have to spread it out on your chips

Chips 1 ½ cups flour

1 ½ teaspoons salt 1 tablespoon baking powder 1 tablespoon sugar 2/3 cup milk 1/3 cup shortening 2 tablespoons butter, chilled

• Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. • Sift your dry ingredients into a big old mixing bowl. Dump them out and sift them again • Add your shortening and butter in chunks and cut in until it looks all crumbly • Make a well in the middle of the mix and add in your milk • Gently fold the flour mixture into the milk to form your dough

• Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and flour your hands • Press the dough out into a rectangle and fold in half • Press down flat again, turn a quarter turn, fold in half and press • Repeat this for six more folds • Press out to a large rectangle and cut out your biscuits • Bake for 9-12 minutes or until golden • Once cool, slice each biscuit in half • Flatten your biscuits without crushing them • Fry until deeper brown but not burned • Drain on brown paper bags or paper towels

Queso

1 cup grated extra-sharp cheddar ½ cup sharp cheddar ½ cup mild cheddar 4 ounces softened cream cheese ½ cup mayonnaise ¼ teaspoon garlic powder ½ red onion, chopped fine 4 ounces pimentos or roasted red peppers, diced and drained Salt and pepper

• Put softened cream cheese in a mixing bowl. Make sure it is plenty soft • Add in grated cheeses a little at a time and mash with a fork to start mixing it in

• Add mayonnaise, garlic powder, and pimentos or roasted red peppers and combine thoroughly • Taste and add salt and pepper as you please • If you want it to bite back a little, sprinkle in some ground cayenne or chili powder • Pour the whole mess into a sauce pot and melt down until gooey right before serving

From the Kitchen of Marge Ramirez Choreos (not to be confused with the breakfast item)

If a churro and an Oreo had a baby, this would be it. Golden cookies make it a bit more churro-y. Chocolate cookies have chocolate. Don’t be shy on the cinnamon and sugar at the end, and if you want to serve these up with a big glass of cold milk, we won’t judge you a speck. Sprinkle some cinnamon on it to make it fancy

Batter 1 cup of your favorite pancake mix (I like to make up a batch of my homemade mix and save the extras for breakfast)

2/3 cup milk 1 egg, beaten 1 ½ teaspoons vegetable oil Golden or chocolate sandwich cookies of your choice Equal parts cinnamon and sugar mixed together

• Combine the pancake mix, oil, beaten egg, and milk in a mixing bowl until it creates a batter • Plop a cookie down in there and use a fork to flip it around a bit until it is totally covered • Lift the cookie up with the fork and wiggle it a little to get the excess off • Fry in 350-degree oil for about 3 minutes or until golden

• Drain on brown paper bags or paper towels • While still hot and a little oily, toss around in the cinnamon and sugar

From the Kitchen of Marge Ramirez Bubba Ray Chili in a Cornbread Bowl

Now I know that most people think that Marge does all of the recipe making around here, but the truth is she might have given me some of the foundation for some of the dishes, but the menu is all mine. This here chili in a cornbread bowl is my greatest accomplishment if I do say so myself. Some people don’t believe that. Some people believe that it’s my Country Quesadilla and Warm Creamy Salsa that’s my real claim to fame, saying

it’s just a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Can you believe that? Grilled cheese sandwich. Now I ask you. What is a sandwich? I mean, what makes a sandwich a sandwich? Two pieces of bread. TWO pieces of bread. You take one piece of bread, you slap some cheese down on that booger (I was going to say ‘bitch’ but I have been informed that that is no longer an acceptable term and you being a girl and all, I wouldn’t want to offend you), then you put on another piece of bread, griddle it up, and you’ve got yourself a grilled cheese sandwich. That is not what I make. I use just the one piece of bread. I’d like to add that I make that bread every day single-handedly. Well, I mean with my two hands. I’m not like Sally in the kitchen there who has just the one hand. She can’t really knead bread. That just gets messy. So, I get in there every day and I make big old pieces of flat bread. I put the cheeses and the onions and my secret blend of

spices in there, I fold it on up, squish it down real good, and cook it. Now I ask you, does that sound like a sandwich? I rest my case. But anyway, back to the chili and cornbread bowl. The thing about it is, I didn’t even plan it. Now, don’t you go telling anybody that I told you that. I have a certain standing around here and I don’t want my brilliance to dim in the minds of my admirers. So, we’ll just let them keep on thinking that I came up with this idea out of the clear blue sky and not because I didn’t have any bowls to have my chili in. I used to eat my chili in a normal bowl just like anyone else. Every time that Marge cooked up a pot, I’d ladle it into a big old bowl, crumble up some cornbread on top, and go to town. One Christmas party, though, changed that forever. We had gathered up just about the whole town and were deeply involved in our festive celebration of

the birth of our Lord and somebody broke out Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine. Well, after drinking a bit too much of it, which is to say…any, there were some words and a challenge and next thing I knew all my bowls ended up on the roof. They looked glorious all wrapped up with the Christmas lights. In fact, they’re still there. People come from all three surrounding counties to see my Christmas bowls. I tell you what, I like the attention. But they’re still my bowls. I realized quickly that going about my life without bowls was going to be bit more challenging. Not having a bowl for my morning cereal wasn’t all that difficult. I mean, I can just tip my head back and pour the cereal and milk in my mouth, then jiggle around some and it’s all the same. But then Marge made up some New Year’s chili and I didn’t have a bowl to eat out of. I couldn’t climb up on the roof to get one of those bowls. There had been some ice and I just couldn’t

get a good grip on it. Besides, there were still some people coming by to see the lights and I didn’t want to break up the display any. It was just too beautiful. So, I had to figure out another way to eat my chili. That’s when I thought about my cornbread. I always put the cornbread in the chili. So why not put the chili…in the cornbread. Believe me when I tell you that I don’t make none of that pansy cornbread that falls apart when you look at it wrong and tastes all sweet and sh—tuff. (Sorry. That’s another one of those words that I’m apparently not allowed to use anymore. I’m telling you. I feel like I’m having to learn to talk again. Times have changed. Times—have—changed.) My cornbread is solid. I don’t know if the jalapenos I mix up in there have some sort of binding powers or what, but when you turn a batch of my cornbread out on a plate, it stays together. Therein lies the beginning of my brilliance. (That’s a new word I just learned. Therein. It’s just

like ‘there’ but fancier. It sounds like it should be a guy on that show with the swords and the big mountains and the naked girls and the dragons and stuff. You know the one. What’s it called? I’m not allowed to watch it with Marge in the room, but I’ve caught a couple of episodes down at the bar on their screening nights when Vint drags out the big TV) I baked up some cornbread and plopped it out onto the cutting board. Just like always, it was just one big nice solid chunk. I had burned up the edges a little, but that’s no thing. I just took out the cheese grater and trimmed them up a bit. Then I hollowed out that middle and ladled in the chili. BOOM. My masterpiece is born. Now if you really want to, you can put the innards on top of the chili, but I think a whole bowl made out of cornbread is enough and I’d just as soon put those aside and use them for corn pudding or dressing. Well it looks like I’ve filled up both sides of

this here recipe card and didn’t put the recipe. I’ll try to squeeze it here in the bottom. 1 pot chili 1 dish cornbread • Hollow out your cornbread • Put a big old ladle of chili inside • Eat Rue

I turned the page of the scrapbook and found the torn piece of notebook paper that Cletus had given me with his recipe for Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine scrawled on it. Now all that was visible on it was the title. The rest of the recipe had been crossed out with a large black marker until it was one solid mass of black ink. I felt Richard come up behind me and lean around to kiss my cheek and I

pointed at the blotted-out recipe. “I don’t think that was entirely necessary,” I said. “Oh, really?” Richard said, grabbing the sides of my chair and spinning me around to face him. “You think that it’s a good idea to include a recipe for the very moonshine that led to her birth in our daughter’s scrapbook? A scrapbook, I’ll point out, that you intend on giving to her when she’s eighteen – right around when moonshine is probably the least good idea possible?” “What?” I asked, trying to keep my face as straight as possible. “Don’t you want her to grow up knowing how to properly clean and disinfect?” Richard laughed and leaned down to kiss me. “Come on. It’s time to get going. We don’t want to be late.” “Late?” I asked. “How can we possibly be

late to pick apples? Don’t you ever slow down?” He gave me a knowing look and grinned. “Alright. Move slowly. Take as long as you want to get dressed. Put your makeup on. Get Clementine dressed. Stop for a meal and a couple of cups of coffee,” he teased. “But don’t blame me if all of the good apples on the bottom branches are already taken and the only ones worth eating are left up at the top.” “Oh, I wouldn’t mind,” I said, standing up and starting out of my craft room and toward the stairs to our bedroom. “You wouldn’t?” he asked, sounding both confused and a little bit aggravated that I seemed to have called his bluff and really was going to take the rest of the day to get ready to head for the orchard. “Nope,” I said. I paused and glanced over

my shoulder. “Because I would just make you climb up into the trees and get them for me.” He gave me a playful glare and started toward me. I squealed and ran, scrambling up the stairs and toward our bedroom, hoping that we could steal a few minutes alone while Clementine finished up her mid-morning nap.

Chapter Thirty-One

Richard

I rushed up the stairs after Rue, trying to keep my laughter as quiet as I could so I wouldn’t wake the baby. It felt like it had been forever since I had had a chance to touch her, and I didn’t want to wait even another moment. I chased her into the bedroom and closed the door behind me, already tearing my shirt away from my body and kicking my shoes off as I approached her. She was still smiling at me with the playful sparkle in her eyes, but there was a hint of velvety mischief there as well, a hint of arousal that had become passionately familiar to me. I strode across the room toward her and grabbed her up into my arms, crushing my mouth over hers in a deep, passionate kiss. She laughed as

I tossed her forward onto the bed and dropped down over her so that I could stare down into her eyes. I loved the way that she looked at me. It was unlike anything that I had ever seen or experienced before, and I could never get enough of it. I wanted to stare at her all day, to drink her in and try to memorize all of the flecks of color in her eyes and the way that her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks when they slumbered with desire. But my body craved her, ached for her touch, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Kissing her another time, I reached down and grabbed the waistband of her pants, tugging them down over her hips. She was wearing nothing beneath them, immediately freeing her body to my touch, and I ducked my head down to draw my tongue through her folds, needing to taste her, before standing and taking off my pants as fast as I could. As I stripped off the remainder of my clothing, Rue pulled off her shirt and released her

bra. Her breasts bounced free and I groaned, cupping my hands around them to feel their soft warmth against my palms. I leaned down and flicked the tip of my tongue across each pert peak, knowing that they were still experiencing heightened sensitivity. Rue gasped, and her eyes closed as she arched her back to press up more into my touch. I obliged her by tracing the tip of my tongue around the edge of each nipple and then down the center of her body, feeling the dip of her ribcage and the smoothness of her belly. Her body was already bouncing back after the pregnancy, but there was a slightly wider fullness about her hips that made her waist look even smaller. She was even sexier now than when I first saw her, lusher and seemingly more confident and settled in her body. It made me want to worship every inch of her. I brought my mouth back up to her neck and ran it down the side, allowing my lips to part just enough that I could feel the skin grow

damp. When I reached her shoulder, I lifted my mouth again and blew a stream of cool air against the trail that I had just made. She shuddered slightly, a soft moan coming from between her lips. I continued my progress onto her chest, running my tongue from one side to the other. Her skin tasted lightly salty. I loved when she took the time to pamper herself and smelled floral and fresh, but there was something indulgent and special about the feminine, natural smell of her body. It was something that was only for me, something that only I got to experience, and I enjoyed every second of it. My tongue continued its progress over her body, briefly touching her breasts again and then making its way onto her stomach. I rested my hands on either side of her ribs and then drew them down into the soft curve of her waist as I licked my way down. Her body felt both wonderfully familiar and beautifully different. I felt like I was both enjoying

her in a new way and rediscovering something precious and beloved. I felt Rue’s belly shiver beneath my mouth as I made my way over the soft swell that was still there, and nuzzled my face between her hipbones, just grazing her skin with the tip of my nose and my lips. Her legs parted naturally, sliding across the bed to open her to me. I eased my way off of the foot of the bed so that I sat on my knees and touched my hands to her inner thighs, gently pressing them apart. My position gave me a full view of Rue, the delicate curves and folds of her body displayed openly and without hesitation to me. I took a moment just to admire their beauty, to revel in the perfect way that she was crafted and the luscious way that I could already see she was readying for me. Her body glistened with the hot, slick moisture that would soon welcome me into her and

I dipped my fingers into it, allowing it to smooth my path as my fingertips glided from her opening along one side of her core. They swept through her petals and up to her peak, settling onto her sweetly swollen clit for only a moment before tracing down the other side. I dipped them slightly inside of her again to gather more of the fluids that were increasing every moment and brought them up through the inner folds, finding smooth, soft skin. I pressed my fingertips against the skin, finding the rhythmic dance of her pulse there. She was groaning now, writhing against the bed, but I wasn’t finished with my exploration. I wanted more of her. I wanted to know everything that I could about her delectable body and how I could create the most intense pleasure within her. I ran my fingers through her again and then brought one to her sensitive pearl. My patient touching had coaxed it forward, guiding it closer to me, and I could tell by Rue’s reaction when I

brushed my fingers even lightly against it that it was even more sensitive now than it had been. I ran my fingertip along it gently, just softly tracing it at first, and then pressed slightly harder. Rue’s back arched and I heard her take a gasping breath. My body was aching, my cock so hard it hurt wanting to be inside of her, but I wanted to enjoy this for a few more moments, to pamper her and allow her simply to luxuriate in the pleasure that her incredible body was capable of achieving. I tucked two fingers from my other hand inside of her to gather more of her fluids and then brought my hand down to my erection, allowing the silkiness to cause my hand to glide. I wrapped my hand tightly around my cock and pumped it in short, intense strokes as I watched myself touching Rue. She pulled her legs up, resting her feet on the bed on either side of me so that her knees were bent. This caused her opening to part more, the glistening entrance acting as an invitation to me.

Pumping my hand harder and faster, I leaned forward and slipped my tongue inside of her. The taste of Rue’s body filled my mouth and I groaned. My own fluids dripped from the tip of my cock, mixing with hers to make my hand run even harder and faster. I mimicked the touch with my fingers on her clit, pressing hard enough that I could feel the tightness beneath my fingertips. Rue’s hands grasped the mattress beside her and her breath was coming in hard, labored gasps. I wanted to feel her come around my tongue, to taste her as she tumbled over the edge into oblivion. Knowing that I wasn’t going to be able to hold off for much longer, I took my hand away from my cock and instead pressed it to her belly to hold her down against the bed. I plunged my tongue deeper into her and curved it so that I could lick at the exquisite ridges along her upper wall. Resting my hand against her belly, I turned it

so that I could continue to stroke her with my thumb. Within seconds Rue cried out, one hand pulling up on the comforter beside her while the other dug into my hair. I felt her walls closing around my tongue and I pressed further into her, closing my mouth over her core and drawing lightly against it to further her sensations. The climax sent a new rush of fluids into my mouth and I lapped them up, the combination of the slick heat against my lips and the taste of her making my cock even harder. I stayed where I was until I felt Rue coming down from the most intense peak of the orgasm and then I stood. I walked to the nightstand beside our bed and withdrew a condom from the box I kept in the top drawer. Taking my place at the end of the bed again, I rested the condom on the tip of my cock and unrolled it to the base. Rue was watching me, her eyes hungry even through the veil of sleepy satisfaction that had taken over. I leaned down and

touched a kiss to her lips before tucking a hand beneath her hip and flipping her over onto her belly. She gasped as I pressed one thigh up to bend by her side and leaned down to lick from the lowest point of her back up her spine to her neck. Stretching out across her back, I grasped hold of my cock and led it to her opening. I sank inside of her easily, welcomed by walls softened and made slippery by her arousal. Soon I was fully within her and I wrapped one arm under her chest, cupping her breast in my palm. I pressed the other hand to the mattress beside her to give myself leverage and began to rock my hips. The position drove me deep within Rue without causing me to pull away from her, and I moaned at the sheer luxury of her body melding with mine. I propped one knee up on the mattress, using it to support the leg that Rue had bent at her side, and picked up my pace. I kissed along her neck and shoulder as I thrust into her, my breaths

tearing out of me in ragged gasps as the powerful pleasure that her body created spiraled higher and higher until I felt that I couldn’t tolerate any more of it. I dropped my head back and roared as the rush of my orgasm slammed into me and I felt my cock harden, pulse, and spill into Rue. She pressed her hips back, rocking them in time with my own tiny thrusts so that she continued to stimulate my cock, riding me through wave after wave of blissful climax. I grabbed onto her hips and lifted them slightly, holding them in place so that I could thrust all the way into her and hold myself in place. I took the other hand and wrapped it around her hips, finding her wet clit again and rubbing it intensely, not letting up even when Rue squirmed and cried out. She rose up on her knees, spreading them far apart so that I could force even deeper into her and my hand moved more freely against her pearl until she screamed, and I felt another powerful orgasm

rush through her. The feeling of her walls spasming around my cock sent me into a second wave and I pounded into her with ferocity, wanting every drop of the overwhelming pleasure that both of us were experiencing to linger on. Finally, she dropped forward on the mattress and I collapsed down on top of her, gathering her up into my arms and nuzzling my face into the curve of her neck. Our breathing synchronized and slowed gradually as our bodies cooled and relaxed. We felt like one, completely melded, absolutely contented and at peace.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rue

My body was still humming, and I was feeling a contended glow over me as I latched Clementine into her car seat and settled beside her. I knew eventually I was going to go back to riding in the front seat of the car like a normal adult, but for right then I wasn’t a normal adult. I was a new mother and there wasn’t anything that was getting me out of the seat right beside my tiny daughter. If I was sitting in the front seat and I peeked around back, all I would be able to see would be the back of her seat. I needed to be right there beside her where I could look down into her seat and see her perfect little face. Sometimes I thought about the bright pink plastic mirror that I had gotten at my post-baby shower a few weeks before. It was

designed to hook onto the handle of the car seat so that if I was sitting in the front I could look back and see the reflection of her. It seemed like a good idea in concept, and like one of those things that I would have raved about before I got pregnant and would probably have even gotten for a pregnant friend and puffed up my chest in pride at having given her something so very useful. Now that Clementine was here, however, there was no way in living hell I was going to rely on a reflection to feel confident that my baby was alright. What if she was choking? What if her harness gave out? What if a giant spider crawled out from under the seat and started climbing around on her wanting to lay its eggs in her soft spot? I wasn’t going to be able to take off my seatbelt and fling myself backwards over the seat to get to her in time. Nope. I was going to keep my

place firmly beside her until I was sure that she was going to be safe during the entire trip or Richard started teaching her to drive. Whichever came first. As we drove toward the orchard one county over we passed by the old wooden sign for Galloway’s Farm. The paint was faded now and if I didn’t know that’s what it said, I might not be able to read it. Old Man Galloway, who had been called that since before I was a child and was probably now more like Close to Dust Man Galloway, hadn’t ever seemed too motivated to refresh the sign. Everybody in the tri-county area knew where the farm was, so they didn’t really need a sign to direct them. Unfortunately, it seemed in recent years that even knowing where to find them wasn’t enough to get many people out to the farm. I could still remember when I was younger and every year we’d go out to Galloway’s Farm to pick pumpkins and eat the hot doughnuts that Mrs. Galloway would serve out of the little wooden stand she set

up near the front of the pumpkin patch. The popularity of the patch had waned over the years, though, and recently the farm had stayed mostly quiet all through the autumn months. This year, though, things seemed to have taken a bit of a turn. As we drove by I noticed several trucks heading down the curvy dirt road that led to the farm and could hear faint sounds of construction work coming through the woods. I had heard rumors that there were some big goings-on over there in the last couple of weeks and it was good to see, at least for now, that they weren’t just mutterings like old Samson Greene’s Great Ghost of Whiskey Hollow Lake hubbub from a few years back. That one happened after a particularly moonshine-filled evening and involved a missing goat, three petticoats from a clothesline, and a couple of teenagers who I dare say will never go skinny-dipping again.

The drive to the orchard was peaceful with Clementine nodding off to sleep a few minutes in and the golden late morning sun making the fall foliage seem even more magnificent. When we reached the gravel parking lot of the orchard it seemed that nearly everyone else had had the same idea as we had. We had to park all the way in the back of the lot where we ended up somewhat tilted into an old tractor track. “I bet you’re missing your limo and driver now, aren’t you?” I teased as I watched Richard climb out of the car and come around to my door to get Clementine and me out. “Not at all,” he said. “You’re the one who said we didn’t have anything to be late for. If we had left when I said we should, we would have a front row parking spot and be up to our eyeballs in honey crisps right now.” “And you would have wanted to leave right

then?” I asked, giving him a suggestive look. I held the baby close to my chest as I got out, and Richard wrapped an arm around my waist to sweep me up against him for a kiss. “Not at all,” he repeated, his voice lower and more velvety now. “Besides, if I ever do have need, I have Abraham on speed dial.” I smiled up at him, admiring the way that his hair was falling a little longer now and the tense lines around his eyes had relaxed in the time that he had spent in Whiskey Hollow with me. He still had his house in the city and his business dealings were only on hold, not permanently gone, but I would take every one of these calm, quiet moments with him that I could. Richard took Clementine into his arms and we walked hand-in-hand toward the entrance to the orchard. Around us families were filtering through the parking lot and milling around in the little

market area that the Crozet family had built up for those visiting their orchards. Here women would sell jars of jellies and preserves, the smell of hot cider filled the air, and craftsmen from all of the surrounding area would display Christmas ornaments, quilts, wood carvings, and other wares. I knew many people who got a head start on their holiday decorating and gift lists right here. Clementine cooed in her sleep in her papa’s arms beside me and I couldn’t help but sigh happily right along with her. Nothing made me happier than knowing that she was going to grow up knowing this place the way that I did, and that she would carry on even after me. The house was safe. The land was protected. The additions that Richard had made only worked to improve our lives and the lives of those who lived here, but it didn’t change it. I might have roamed a little, but in my heart Whiskey Hollow was always my home, and now that I had fully returned, I knew that there was no

place that would ever compare, no place that I would rather be. After taking a few minutes to wander through the market and mention to the people running the stands what I had my eye on, so they would hold them for me, we picked up baskets from the overflowing wheelbarrows at the entrance to the path that led down to the orchards themselves and started toward the trees. The Crozet farm boasted several varieties of apples and eager families were scattered throughout the different groves, picking the almost impossibly perfect fruit from the branches. Grass grew soft and thick among the trees and children nested in it between the rows, eating as many of the apples as their little bellies would hold. Most of what their parents picked would end up getting turned into apple sauce, apple pies, chutneys, and stewed apples, some of which would be featured prominently on Thanksgiving tables in a couple of months. Today,

though, the little ones would get their fill of the fresh fruit and sit down to picnic lunches with no room for their cold fried chicken and potato salad. Clementine opened her eyes just long enough for us to prop her up against one of the trees in her blanket, tuck an apple in her lap, and snap a picture of her. I looked forward to putting it in her scrapbook so that when she grew up and might not want to come back here every fall and pick apples with me, at least I could remember when she was this tiny and really didn’t have a choice in the matter. Ah, parenthood. Squeezing a lifetime of memories into the years when your children will go along with you and then taking what you can get afterwards. We hadn’t brought a picnic with us so when we finished filling our baskets with apples and put them in our car, we took the trek back to the

market and got in line at Bubba Ray’s food truck. He grinned out at us from the window when we got to the front. “Well, hi there,” he said. “Beautiful day to be out picking apples.” “It sure is, Bubba Ray,” I said. “How’s business?” “Can’t keep up,” he said proudly. “I can’t thank you enough for this. Used to be I had to wait for people to come into the restaurant, and while I had my regulars and there were some people who would stop by for a bite after seeing my Christmas bowls, it just wasn’t all that I wanted it to be and I was starting to get a little worried, if I can be honest with you. But this food truck,” he reached out and patted the side of the shining white vehicle with all the pride of a father patting his quarter back son on the back, “this thing is making my dreams come true. You know that someone called me the other

day from the Daley fair? They want me to go all the way out there and set up my truck. Prime spot, too. Right near the Ferris wheel.” “That’s wonderful, Bubba Ray. Congratulations.” “Well, it’s all because of you.” “No,” Richard said, shaking his head. “It’s all because of you. This is just a truck. You’re the one with the ideas and the food.” “Well, you’re right about that. And speaking of food,” he stepped back from the window and held out his arms as if to encompass the entirety of the truck and all that was in it. “why don’t you let me rustle you up something to eat? My treat.” “In celebration of your ever-growing success, I think I’ll try the County Fair-jitas,” Richard said. “And I’ll have the chips and queso,” I said.

“Make that two.” I turned toward the voice behind me, knowing that it couldn’t possibly be who it sounded like. My heart jumped when I saw Christopher standing behind me, the tiny red and yellow apples embroidered on his shirt the perfect touch for the day. He smiled at me and opened his arms, gathering me in a hug that smelled distinctly of cinnamon. Dear lord I loved this man and his details. “What are you doing here?” I asked when we stepped back from each other. “I thought I would do a little apple picking,” he said. “Do you think that I can pull this off?” Tessie’s voice was distinctive in the bustle of the market and I turned to see her coming toward us. Her arms were laden with packages and bags

from the various vendors and she wore an enormous hat with a pale blue blusher, satin ribbon, and what looked like a cluster of frosted cherries. Dolly Simpson made that. I would know her monstrous creations anywhere. “It’s gorgeous,” Christopher said. “You could wear that to church.” “I will,” Tessie said, coming to my side. “I’m going to wear it to the Homecoming picnic with my blue pantsuit. Jesus will like it. I will wear it for his glory.” I loved when Tessie suddenly reached down into roots and got deeply spiritual for no particular reason. I shook my head and hugged her, trying to duck out of the way of the brim of the hat so that it didn’t hit me in the eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

“I’ve never been able to get the two of you out here without dragging you kicking and screaming.” “Not true,” Christopher said. “We came to your post-baby shower.” “Via satellite,” I said. “Beaming you into the room through a laptop screen doesn’t count as you actually being there.” “We recreated all of the decorations and games in Tessie’s living room,” he protested. “Besides, it’s not our fault that we weren’t technically invited and that the one that we planned for you was going to be so much better that we didn’t want to waste any of our merriment.” “That’s a lovely sentiment, but it still doesn’t answer my question as to what has dragged the two of you out of your concrete playpen and into my neck of the woods.” “So, so literal. So literal,” Christopher said,

shaking his head. “Where’s my child?” I gestured toward Richard, who handed Clementine to Christopher before accepting our plates of food from Bubba Ray. I noticed that he had snuck a couple of orders of Choreos in and was now trying to lift his plate up to his mouth to take one without aid of fingers. “We missed you,” Tessie said. “I missed you, too, but you’ve been missing me for weeks. Why now?” “I invited them.” The slightly muffled sound of Richard’s voice told me that he had managed to get the cookie and was munching his way through it as he tried to talk. I had to laugh as I reached up and brushed a few crumbs from the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t too long ago that he never would have done something like that. The thought of

eating a deep-fried Oreo would have been enough out of his comfort zone to make him shudder, but to do so while speaking and wearing clothing that didn’t have his monogram inside would have been just too horrible to fathom. While I never would have wanted him to be a totally different person than the one I met, after all, it was that man who I fell in love with, it was nice to see him soften up and discover the simpler pleasures of life. And to be fair, I wasn’t exactly frowning about the upgrades he had made to the house, the second, much larger house that he was building just behind it, or the new closet that I was steadily filling with clothes. We had blended into each other, and it was more wonderful than anything I could have imagined. Almost. “You did?” He nodded and gestured for us to follow him.

“There’s something I want to show you.” We walked past the market and beyond the old farmhouse that had been converted into a yearround Christmas shop when the Crozet family built another house on the other side of the orchard. Soon we were away from the bustling of the market and into an open area that I could imagine was once a pasture for the animals that would have worked the farm when it was still in operation many generations before. There was a truck sitting in the middle of the pasture, and for a second I thought that it was just an abandoned vehicle, or possibly one of the trucks that Billy Crozet used to gather up the apples that fell on the ground and bring them around to the neighboring farms to use for feed. When I looked a little harder, however, I realized that it was the same beaten-up old truck that Richard had bought from Cletus and brought to

my house the night of our first real date, the night Clementine was born. It had been painted completely white, though none of the dents or scratches had been filled up or fully covered. Richard smiled at me when I looked up at him curiously and continued toward the truck, the rest of the group in tow. As we approached I realized that the bed of the truck had been spread with a quilt and a picnic basket was sitting on the tool box at the back. He settled the plates of food onto the wheel well and helped me up into the bed before climbing in after me. I expected Christopher and Tessie to come in as well, but they hovered back several yards away from the truck, talking to Clementine as though they had become her parents and for a few minutes they were their own little family. A bizarre, bizarre little family. “What’s going on?” I asked, turning my

attention from them back to Richard. He was sitting on his knees beside me and staring at me intently. “I wasn’t supposed to meet you,” he said, and I felt my heart sink into my stomach. “I wasn’t supposed to need a baby contract. I wasn’t supposed to have to fight so hard for someone to know that I love them. I wasn’t supposed to ever have a difficult moment in my life. I was supposed to marry Flora, have children, and live out the rest of my life in a bubble of my own creation without ever thinking about anything that was happening to those not floating around with me. Then I met you. Now I know that the only two things in life I was ever really meant to do was meet you and have Clementine. Because that’s the difference. I wasn’t supposed to meet you, but I was meant to. And for every other thing that I was not supposed to do, I thank you with all of my heart for forcing me to do

them. And for everything that I was supposed to do, I thank you with all of my heart for not allowing them to happen. You’ve taught me that paths are winding, not straight. The most meaningful choices in life are often the most difficult to make. If you don’t have to fight for someone, then they aren’t really yours. I wasn’t real until I met you, Rue. I didn’t truly have a life. I had an existence. I had things that people dream of and think will make them happy and create the perfect life for them. But what I didn’t have was so much more important than what I did, and I didn’t even know it until I met you. I have loved you for far longer than I admitted, but I will make up for it by loving you passionately and fully, without question and without hiding, every day for the rest of my existence. You have given me everything that I have ever wanted, even things that I never knew that I wanted but now know are the most precious things that I could ever have.

Almost. You have given me almost everything that I have ever wanted. There is only one more thing that you could possibly give me that would make my life any better than it already is. Be my wife.” I felt my heart soar and tears forming in my eyes. I reached out and took Richard’s hand, pulling it close to me so I could press it to my chest. “Richard,” I murmured. He turned and reached his free hand into the picnic basket. When he turned back to me he was holding a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies. “I found a recipe in the kitchen. It was tucked in the back of a drawer. I don’t know if it’s the right one, but I made them for you.” It was a strange detour in the conversation, but I couldn’t resist the warm, spicy smell of the cookies and I reached forward to take one of the cookies from the plate. I took a bite of it and sighed

as the flavor melted on my tongue. It was a bite of childhood, carrying with it the feeling of my grandmother’s kitchen and the memory of my father’s hugs. I was so enraptured by the cookie that I nearly missed the hint of black velvet that was peeking out from underneath the mound of cookies. I finished the cookie I held and moved the others away to reveal the box that had been tucked beneath. Withdrawing the box with a trembling hand, I held it still in front of me, not opening it, almost afraid to as though that would somehow break the fantasy that I was almost convinced I was imagining. Richard watched me for a few still moments and then took the box from my hand. He opened the lid and turned the box toward me. I gasped at the sight of the ring inside. The vintage piece was crafted out of white gold, the sides elaborately scrolled to hold up a massive center diamond with a cascade of smaller stones along each side. It was at once extravagant

and elegant, not the gaudy over-done rings I had witnessed on some of the women who roamed around in Richard’s circle, but also not overly simple. It was nothing short of perfect and I felt breathless. “Will you marry me?” Richard asked. I looked into his eyes and nodded, feeling as though I couldn’t speak. Finally, I found the words. “Yes,” I said softly. “Yes, I will.” Richard took the ring from the box and slipped it onto my hand. It hugged my finger perfectly, telling me that he had gone through the effort of making sure that he knew my ring size and ensuring that the ring was sized to fit. I didn’t want to take it off for even a second. I stared down at it for a moment, realizing that until that moment marrying Richard had been an almost distant thought in my mind, something that I just figured might someday happen, but that I wasn’t actively

seeking. Right then, though, as I felt him pulling me closer to kiss me, I felt a surge of fulfillment as if everything in my life had fallen into place. Christopher and Tessie walked up to the truck and climbed in, each giving me a congratulatory hug before settling onto the quilt. Clementine was awake, and I gathered her into my arms to feed her, gazing down into her perfect little eyes. I knew that she would never remember this, that by the time that she got old enough to form the memories that she would look back on when she was an adult all she would remember was us being married and having settled into life as a family. As much as I loved that she would always have that sense of security and wholeness, I also wanted her to know how much both of her parents went through to create this family and this life for her. I thought to her scrapbook and looked forward to the day that I would sit with her and tell her about this day.

“Do I get to plan the wedding?” Christopher asked. I smiled at him and tucked my hand around his cheek. “You know what?” I said. “Yes. Yes, you do.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Rue Six months later…

Dear lord, that’s a lot of tulle. I stood at the doorway to the converted barn and stared around me at all of the hustle and bustle that was happening around me. The last few weeks had been some of the most chaotic that Whiskey Hollow had ever seen. Richard and I decided that there was no real reason for us to have a long engagement because we both wanted nothing more than to finally be married. Despite how some of the old men sitting in front of Malloy’s General Store made mutterings about how we had already shacked up and were going into our wedding with a built-in flower girl.

Considering so many of Richard’s friends were going to be in attendance, we went along with Christopher’s urging and decided to have the wedding in the city. That meant, however, that we were going to have to make sure that everyone from the Hollow was able to come. Within a week of mentioning to Richard that I was worried that they wouldn’t be able to make it and that Clarabelle’s Fancy Dress Extravaganza wasn’t exactly equipped to handle the surge of business of the entire population of the Hollow coming to find something to wear, a crew arrived ready to convert the massive old barn that had been hunkering on the edge of the valley for as long as anyone could remember. Because the family that had once owned it had been wiped out in an inter-clan shootout several decades back, Richard had been able to purchase it without much fuss and the crew went to work changing the tired, overgrown old building into an elaborate extension of Clarabelle’s, filled to

the brim with every type of dress, suit, shoe, and accessory that he had been able to source from all of the boutiques in close enough proximity to send them in time. The price tags had been snipped out of everything and everyone was told to choose what they liked as a wedding favor from us. Though he hadn’t yet mentioned it to her, Richard planned to sign over the satellite shop and everything that was left in it after the wedding to Clarabelle. I had it on good authority from her oldest daughter that Clarabelle had a deeply held dream of extending her little shop to include a full-service tailor, lingerie section (behind proper Chinese screens, of course), and gift shop that would allow the women from the Hollow to sell their jewelry, handmade soaps, and other creations as gifts and favors for all occasions. It was a lofty aspiration that she likely thought was never even going to be a possibility, but through Richard’s kindness, and the promise

that I would always get first choice of the lingerie and milk soaps, this barn would give her the space and the jump start to do it. All around me women were scurrying around trying to find the perfect dress for the wedding. It was coming up so fast. I almost wished that I had made our engagement just a little longer. As much as I was looking forward to being Richard’s wife, it felt like I had barely even gotten a chance to enjoy being engaged. My bridal shower was that night, Christopher and Tessie were whisking me away for a bachelorette weekend the next weekend, and then the wedding was the next. Just two more weeks and the whirlwind would come to an end. Our honeymoon would follow and then all that would be left would be to settle into daily life. I sighed, a dreamy smile coming to my lips. Life. That sounds like Heaven. “Are you here to try on your dress?”

I turned to see Clarabelle rushing up to me. Her face was high with color and her forehead damp with sweat, curls of her blond hair sticking to it. Her arms were overloaded with multiple colors of dresses and she seemed to be teetering precariously on her heels. “Yes,” I said. “But there’s no rush. I can just look around.” I looked down at her shoes. “Those are pretty fancy.” Clarabelle peeked down and turned one of her feet back and forth to display the crystals on the back of the heel so that they glittered in the light. “I thought that they might be a little much, but Sue Ellen said that I could pull them off with just the right dress. I think I’m going to go for it, but I need to break them in first, so I’ve been wearing them around the shop.” “That’s a good idea.”

“I’ve got to get these to the dressing rooms. Apparently, some of the ladies have a little bit of difficulty with honesty when it comes to their size.” “Well, some formal wear can be deceptive when it comes to the size,” I said, trying to be diplomatic. “You’re sweet, honey, but there is nothing deceptive about Sissy Bigelow trying to squeeze seven children worth of ass into a twenty-year-old virgin worth of dress.” Diplomacy gone. Clarabelle shuffled away toward the dressing area in the back of the barn and I made my way in the opposite direction, settling onto a plush couch and accepting a glass of champagne offered by one of the staff that Richard brought in for the push before the wedding. I had sipped my way through the glass and was considering going and searching for Clarabelle among the women trying on their

dresses, afraid that one of them might have caught sight of the size label on her dress and started a mutiny, when Tessie came around the corner carrying my dress. She had made the tremendous sacrifice of taking a leave of absence from her job, which I was fairly certain was her code for her doing something stupid and getting fired again, and coming to stay with me to help me through the last few weeks leading up to the wedding. I wasn’t sure what I really needed help with considering Christopher was handling all of the preparations, spectacularly successfully I was happy to say, and I had not only been reassured that I didn’t need to try to do anything but told in no uncertain terms that I was not to touch or attempt to change anything. This led me to believe that what had gotten Tessie fired had likely been one of those things that would cause her to want to get away from prying eyes for a little bit. Besides, since the last couple of times this had happened to her it had

involved a hushed situation that resulted in her collecting a fairly large severance package, and I was starting to feel a little bit of stress, I happily accepted her being around. Tessie gestured at me to come with her and we went to the largest of the dressing rooms, one that had been specifically set aside for the brides who would hopefully swarm to the shop. Thus far I had been the only one to use it, twice now, but I still got a little shiver of excitement when I stepped through the door and into the room. It was large enough to hold a davenport, small table fully equipped with tissues, a rack for clothing, and shelves to store accessories that the bride might want to try on along with their dress. One whole wall was mirrored, with a small platform in front of it positioned there to allow brides to see the way that their skirt would fall. Tessie hung my dress on the hook in one wall and carefully unzipped the garment bag as I undressed. I took up the

undergarments that I had stored in the shelves during my last fitting and shimmied into them, having a brief moment of regret for the biscuits and gravy I had had for breakfast that morning. When the dress dropped over my head, I felt like the rest of the world disappeared around me. The fabric fell around my body like a dream and molded to me perfectly as Tessie zipped the back then secured the long row of buttons that stretched from the scooped back to my hips. My eyes filled with tears as my fingertips traced the beaded lace of the bodice and the softly squared neckline. It was exactly what I wanted. “I wasn’t sure when you said that you didn’t want to do white,” Tessie said, coming to stand beside me and wrap an arm around my waist, “but you look amazing.” I nodded and looked down at the skirt. The delicate pink color was more like a breath of color

than a real shade, reminding of the glow of candlelight through a glass of sweet wine. When I was a little girl I had always told my daddy that I wanted to get married in a pink dress, drawing him pictures of bubblegum-colored confections overflowing with ruffles and sequins. He had never laughed at me or suggested that that might not be a choice that I would really want to make. Bless him and all of the similar lies that he told me growing up. Instead, he had just kissed me on the top of my head and told me that I was going to be the most beautiful bride in the world. I missed him bitterly now as I stood on the platform and gazed at my finally finished gown. In two weeks I would walk down the aisle by myself, wearing the old iron key to the house that he always carried on a ribbon around my wrist, and knowing that he was there with me, at last seeing me as a bride in my pink

wedding dress. **** Richard With the exception of the first moment that I saw Clementine, I had never seen anything as beautiful as Rue walking down the aisle toward me in her wedding dress. Hundreds of candles filled the room, gleaming off of the chandelier overhead and seeming to dapple her long train with pinpoints of light as it slid slowly along behind her. The rows of chairs on either side of the aisle were completely full, the gathering of our guests stretching far into the back of the room until I wondered just how much of the altar those in the back could really see in the dancing candlelight, but all I could focus on was her. When she reached the end of the aisle, Rue leaned down to touch a kiss to Clementine’s head where she slept in my mother’s arms. Mother

looked up at Rue and I saw them meet eyes. They still didn’t adore each other, and I didn’t expect any type of epiphany in their relationship any time soon, but meeting Clementine had softened something between them and I could see a path opening where they might one day wander into some sort of bond. I walked down off of the small stage that created our altar and joined her at the head of the aisle, leaning down to give Clementine my own kiss. I straightened and took Rue’s arm, guiding her up the stairs toward where our officiant stood. Both of our hands grasped between us, we stared into each other’s eyes, not thinking of anything in those moments but each other and the sacred, deeply meaningful words that fell around us. As the ceremony ended and I leaned in to kiss her for the first time as my wife, the thought suddenly occurred to me that I was immeasurably fortunate that I had waited for her, that I had

allowed myself to do something as out of character as to not go after Flora, and something as impetuous as to go after Rue. No matter how much I once thought that I did, or how much others told me that I did, I knew then that I didn’t understand those words before. They would have meant nothing to me if I had closed myself off to the possibility of the life that I wanted, and instead gone along with what was expected of me. Even if I had said them, they would have carried no weight, had no impact. I wouldn’t have felt any change. Now, though, I felt that something had changed within me. Saying those words to Rue had been more precious, more impactful than anything I could have imagined, and I knew that there was nothing that would ever take me away from her. We had planned our wedding so that it spanned two days, exchanging our vows on one and then celebrating with a reception that went through the night. We were still dancing as the first hints of

pink and purple light started showing up on the horizon and the light of the new morning began to glow through the huge windows on either side of the reception hall. Our energy was starting to fade, and our dancing had been largely reduced to simply standing in the middle of the dancefloor and swaying vaguely to the rhythm of the music, but I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want the magic of the night to end and give up the feeling of my brandnew wife, still wearing her gown, still smiling in the way she had since the ceremony, in my arms even for a moment. She leaned against my chest and sighed. “I think that they put on this music to put us to sleep,” she murmured. I looked around the dancefloor and saw that there were only a few other couple still scattered throughout the space. The rest of our guests were sitting at the tables or lounging on the vintage sofas

and chairs that Christopher had arranged in the corners of the room. They looked completely drained, but none wanted to leave before we did. “Are you ready to leave?” I asked. She sighed and cuddled closer to me. “Let’s just finish this song.” As if Christopher could read her mind and had alerted the kitchen, waiters started streaming out of the back carrying trays of coffee and pastries for the guests, completing the progression of indulgent treats that we had served that started with a sumptuous dinner and lavish desserts after the ceremony and was followed by milk and cookies at midnight. I noticed that a few guests seemed to have spiked their milk, which I thought probably accounted for those who were still with us on the dancefloor. The song ended, and we walked hand-in-

hand off of the dancefloor and toward the microphone at the far end of the room. “Is anyone out there still awake?” I asked. A few of the guests laughed and I heard a distinct bellow from somewhere in one of the lounge areas. “Good to hear, Bubba Ray,” I said. “I just wanted to say thank you so much to every one of you who joined Rue and me here to celebrate our wedding. We can’t think of anything more important than having the people we care about with us as we start this new chapter in our lives. There’s so much more that I could say, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a couple of you take out eye masks and pillows so I’m going to go ahead and wrap it up. Thank you again. Drive safely and have a good day’s sleep!” Our guests rushed outside clutching the tiny bottles that had been handed out and as Rue and I

rushed out a sea of bubbles tumbled down around us. She squealed with glee as she leapt into the back of our limo, the one white vehicle among the fleet that I had hired to bring everyone from the Hollow to the wedding, and I laughed as I jumped in after her. I closed the door and the limo took off, heading toward the hotel where we would spend the next two days before leaving on our honeymoon, with Clementine in tow. “I think that Clementine deserves to have a little brother,” I said, reaching out to grab hold of Rue and sweep her over so she lay across my lap, her arms looped around my neck. “Oh, really?” she asked. I nodded, biting my lip. “Only this time, we’re doing it the oldfashioned way.” She smiled, and I gathered her to me, dipping

my head to give her the first of the rest of a lifetime of kisses. THE END

Redemption

I'm the new fire chief in town. Gwen is the one flame I can't put out.

The scars of my past haunt me. They chase me like I chase fires. But sh*t can't continue this way. I'll be damned if I let my son end up damaged like me. This new town is just what we need.

Little did I know a night of scorching lust would be my salvation. No names, no commitment, and blazing passion. That's all it was supposed to be. Until I find Gwen again... This time I'll take her body and her heart. But if she knew my secret... Would she or this town still want me here?

Chapter One

Garrett

"Well, right now we're sharpening rocks to make spears and when we're done with that, we're going to go out into the woods and hunt Bigfoot for a while. If that doesn't pan out, we'll go drag racing down Main Street." "Jason--" "Seriously, Dad. You could have a little bit more faith in me. What type of person do you think I am." I'm kind of afraid to answer that. "I'm just worried about you." "We're eating pizza and playing video games. Both of Jeff's parents are sitting in the living room. All

the doors are locked. I have my toothbrush and intend on brushing my teeth thoroughly after eating my allotted slices and the soda that will go along with them." "Not too much soda," I said. As if that was really going to have any impact on him. "I have my limits, Dad. I have my limits." I sighed, but there was a smile on my lips. It was good to hear my son sounding almost playful with me again. It had been months since he had been anything but sullen and occasionally blisteringly angry for what seemed like absolutely no reason most of the time. That was one of the main reasons that I was on the road right now, nearly at my destination, as I leaned forward slightly to stare through the windshield at the dark, narrow way ahead.

"Alright. I'll pretend that you cut yourself off at one can and we'll call it even." "How many cans of soda do you drink with your pizza?" he asked with a hint of teasing in his voice. Four. "One." "Sure. Are you still planning on being back the day after tomorrow?" "That's the plan." "I'll see you then." "Night, Bud." "Night." I reached forward and ended the call on my phone where it was attached to the dashboard. "Where in the living fuck am I?" I asked no one in particular, which was good considering I was alone

in the car. I thought that the way was going to seem familiar. It should have felt comfortable or at least looked like something I had seen before. The closer that my GPS told me I was getting, however, the less it felt like I knew where I was or where I was going. I tried not to think about it. The more I did, the more I had to remember the last time that I was in this town and everything that I had gone through. That had been so many years ago. I told myself that that was why nothing seemed as familiar as I expected that it would, not that I had been so traumatized when I left. I didn't want to think that those last few weeks had been so hard on me, that they would scar me or make it so that I wasn't able to remember the place where I grew up. It was the earlier years, the years well before my life as I knew it exploded, that was the reason I accepted the job offer and made the decision to

move Jason and me to the tiny town that I was currently trying very hard to find. The last few months had only been part of a distinctly downward spiral that Jason seemed to be following, one that had taken him from the energetic and fun child I had raised mostly alone to a difficult teenager who was teetering over the edge of rebellion a little more each day. I didn't want to see him follow the same difficult path that I had. I didn't want to see him suffering. But I also didn't want to see him fall victim to the self-destruction that I knew could come, the self-destruction that I had been rescued from by the military. And by him. I didn't think of this as going home, though part of me thought that maybe I should. Instead, I thought of it as bringing my son to the place where I thought that he would have the best chances, where he could start over and get onto a better track. I felt a tightening of guilt in my stomach as I thought about this. I hadn't been entirely honest with Jason

about the move. When I dropped him off with his best friend Jeff for a few days I told him that I was going to see about a new job. That wasn't a lie. There was a new job waiting for me in the tiny town of Silver Lake. I had leveraged my military and firefighting backgrounds to land the position of fire chief, finally bringing me up from the absolute bottom of the heap, where I had been with my family in the days before I left Silver Lake, behind me, for what I thought would be the last time. What I hadn't told Jason was that the new job was several hours away from the town where he had grown up and that I was actually going to find us a new house so that we could move right after the first of the year. I knew that he was going to be pissed. I wasn't really looking forward to that confrontation when it finally came time to tell him. I knew that the transition that was coming wasn't going to be easy for either one of us, but I expected that it was going to be the most difficult for him.

The thought was enough to make my temples tighten in another stress headache, much like the ones that had inspired the nearly empty bottle of pain reliever that was taking up one of the cup holders in the center console right alongside a massive cup with now-cold dredges of coffee. Finally, I saw a sign rising up in front of me and knew that I was almost at my destination. There was only one hotel in the town of Silver Lake, which meant that my options for where to stay during my visit were limited to whether I wanted a room on the bottom floor or the top. I had opted for the top, but as I drove along the main stretch of the town, I wondered if I was going to be able to get into my room that night at all. Where is everybody? It's not even ten. The entire town around me seemed to be asleep. There were no cars with me on the road and no people walking along the sidewalk. Most of the

buildings were completely dark or had only one or two lights burning inside. It was the week of Thanksgiving and I knew that within a few days Christmas lights were going to burst to life throughout the town, but for now, the entire space seemed desolate and empty. It's downright fucking creepy. I drove around to the back of the hotel and gathered my bags before walking to the door, expecting it to be locked so I would have to spend the night either sleeping in my car or driving around trying to find another hotel. Fortunately, I saw someone standing behind the counter as I approached the door and was able to walk in and check in. Twenty minutes later I was back in my car. The quiet was too much for me and for the tense thoughts running through my mind. I needed something to relieve my stress and to get my mind

off everything. Having a night without responsibilities wasn't something that I got very often, and I wanted to blow off some steam and have fun. That, however, was something that wasn't going to happen in Silver Lake. Even if every member of the town hadn't apparently pulled on their sleeping caps and buried themselves in bed for the night, I didn't want to threaten my reputation in the town even before I had a chance to build it. The town was full of prying eyes and well-established families with very strong opinions, which meant that anything that I did was going to spread faster than the flu. Even if I was going to eventually drink the hot milk and settle into small town living, I was going to make the most of the time that I had left. Hoping I wasn't going to be caught by the one sheriff who I imagined would be wandering around on these roads, I kept one eye on the road in front of me and one on my phone where it was propped in its stand as I searched for a hotel with a vacancy.

By the time that I made it to the larger town two over from Silver Lake, I had a reservation and even more of a desire to let loose for the night. I tossed my bag into the room, changed clothes, and headed out. Unlike in Silver Lake, this town actually seemed alive. It didn't take long for me to find a bar with lights and music pouring from the door and a parking lot full enough to make it look like there were more people inside the bar than there were in the entire town I was preparing to live in. I parked and walked inside, scanning the room as I did. I had taken only a few steps out of the slight chill outside into the stark contrast of the heavy warmth inside when my eyes fell on her. Holy shit. That is exactly what I need tonight. She was sitting at the end of the bar, leaned forward on her elbows as she twirled a swizzle stick around in a drink. Her eyes were down, looking at the nearly full glass in front of her as she seemed lost in

her own thoughts. I took a step toward her, but before I could get close to her, I saw a short man with the first three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and enough grease in his thinning blond hair to fry chicken step up beside her. He leaned to the side against the bar and ran his tongue over his teeth. He looked her up and down, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was visibly pulling away from him. I continued toward them, pushing my way through the crowd without taking my eyes off the gorgeous woman and her unwelcome visitor. He reached up and ran his fingertips along the curve of her shoulder just as I stepped up behind her. The woman stumbled back from her stool to get away from his touch and ran into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist first to catch her as she stumbled, then to hold her close as a thought popped into my mind. "Hey, Baby," I said in my best romantic hero voice.

I spun the woman around in my arms as the slimy guy looked on. She looked startled as she faced me, but I didn't hesitate. I dipped her back and crushed my mouth down on hers, moving one of my hands up to cup the back of her head so I could lift her mouth further against mine. I felt her lips part under mine and dipped my tongue into her mouth, sweeping across the sweetness of her tongue. The kiss was instantly explosive, filled with heat and longing that made my belly tighten and my mind cloud. She tasted like everything that I craved, everything that I needed that night. I finally tore my mouth away from hers and set her upright on her feet again. "I'm sorry I'm late," I said. "I just couldn't get away." She nodded and looked at the man, then back at me. "It's alright," she said. "I haven't been waiting too

long." I looked at the man. He was still standing there, but now staring at us, open-mouthed. "You see?" the woman said. "I told you that I couldn't possibly accept a drink from you. I was waiting for my boyfriend. I'm sorry." I kept my arm wrapped tightly around her waist as I extended a hand to him. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Pal. I appreciate it." The man didn't take my hand but grumbled under his breath as he turned and stalked away through the crowd further into the bar. I couldn't hear everything that he said, but I managed to catch a few words that weren't going to win him any love and affection. I watched as he sank back into a darker section of the bar and sulked near a pool table, his eyes still slicing through the dim lighting

at the woman I was still holding. I waved at him and she giggled, turning her back and putting her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. "Is he still looking?" she asked a few seconds later. I nodded. "Yep. Maybe I should sit down with you for a bit." She glanced up at me and I saw her full lips curved in a smile. "Well," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice, "if you have to." We slid into place on the barstools in front of us and I looked at the drink that she had left sitting on the bar when she tried to get away from the unwelcome attention. She was eyeing it as well, seemingly unsure about whether she should continue sipping it. I reached for the glass and put it aside.

"Maybe I should buy you a drink," I said. "You know...to keep up appearances." "Of course. Appearances." I made eye contact with the bartender and gestured to the woman. She ordered her drink and I asked for a beer. It wasn't the most sophisticated choice, but I had never been one to go for mixed drinks, and I had turned my back on liquor soon after Jason was born. With beer I could keep myself under control. I waited until the bartender placed a napkin on the bar in front of me and had served my beer to turn to her. "What's your name?" I asked. She looked at me as if she was unsure of how to answer. "Well, if this is all for appearances, then maybe I shouldn't tell you my real name." I took a sip of my beer as I nodded. This couldn't be

any more perfect. I had had no intention of telling her my real name or why I was in town anyway, and it was reassuring knowing that this woman wasn't going to turn into one who I was going to find trying to have breakfast with me or sneak to call herself from my phone so that she could have my number. I could happily have my fun with her and not have to worry that she was going to show up at my house or start wedding registries online. Both fucking true stories. "Appearances are very important," I agreed. "In keeping with that, my name is Ethan and I am a concert violinist on my backwoods tour." She laughed and nodded. "That's so interesting because my name is Debbie and I'm a costume designer for the backwoods circus." "That is interesting," I agreed. "Maybe we'll do a

cross promotion. I'll play for the acrobats and tightrope walkers." "Oh, there aren't any acrobats or tightrope walkers. It's a flea circus." "You're a costume designer for a flea circus?" "It's very detailed work." I laughed and finished the beer. "So, Debbie, are you from around here?" "No. Just visiting. You?" "No." I looked at her and felt the burning in my chest increase. I could still taste her kiss on my tongue and I wanted more. "I'm staying at a hotel not far from here." Her tongue slipped out and ran along her bottom lip, but her eyes didn't move from mine. I could see her breath quickening, causing her full breasts to rise and fall from the tight, extremely low-cut top

that barely contained them. "Do you like it?" she asked, sounding as though she were trying to keep up our flirting, but her mind was traveling elsewhere. "It serves its purposes." "Do you have a nice view?" Not as nice as the one I have right now. "I'd be happy to show it to you." "I'd like that." I stood and helped her down from her stool, guiding her in front of me as we made our way back through the bar and out to the parking lot. She pointed toward her car, but I grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her against me. I caught her mouth again and plunged my tongue between her lips. I could taste the remnants of her drink clinging to her tongue, mixed with the heat of her. I held her close

to me, letting her feel the hardness of my body against hers, wanting her to know exactly what I was thinking without having to say a word. When I broke the kiss, she let me lead her to my car and open the passenger side door for her. She slipped in and I caught a glimpse of her thigh when her skirt rose up as she sat down. She was wearing thigh highs clasped with a garter belt and I felt my belly tighten even further. I wanted to drop to my knees in the parking lot and tuck my head under her skirt right there. I rushed around to the driver's side and took off toward the hotel without even being sure the door was closed all the way.

Chapter Two

Gwendolyn

Oh, what the fuck am I doing? Who gets in the car with a stranger ten minutes after meeting them in a bar? My eyes scanned across the car toward the man who was driving at breakneck speed down the street toward his hotel. At least, I hoped that it was actually his hotel. For all I knew this could be the beginning of a breaking news special just waiting to happen. He glanced over at me. Ethan? Is that the name he gave me? I had been the one who had set the precedent of us not saying our real names, now I was questioning whether this was actually one of the best of the

plans I had come up with in my life. He looked over at me and gave the hint of a smile. He was so sexy I felt like the scrap of silk I was considering panties for the evening was going to melt. He was exactly why I had come all the way out here from Silver Lake. I wasn't usually the type of person who would be sitting in the front seat of a stranger's car waiting to see where we ended up, knowing full well what was going to happen when the car stopped. I was the quiet one. The conscientious one. The one who had once been known to run a background check on a blind date that I had been set up on. And yet here I was wearing the outfit I had bought for my best friend's bachelorette party two years before, with my boobs jacked to Jesus and heels an inch away from qualifying as stilts, riding into the middle of the night with a man whose name I didn't even know.

Ethan? Why did he choose Ethan? He didn't look like an Ethan. He was far too hot for that. He was a…. Fabian. Francois. Filipe. Something vaguely exotic that would make him even more inaccessible than he already seemed. But this is exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed right now. This is exactly why I had put on this outfit and driven the 45 minutes to find the bar where I had been sitting when he came in. I had to come out this far to find the release, the night of fun that I felt that I owed myself. I had absolutely no intention of finding someone who I'd want to see again. I had no interest in any type of relationship. Though it has been more than a year, my heart still felt raw, as though it was still recovering from the bitter, brutal break up that left me wary of attention from anyone. That didn't mean, though, that I didn't crave at least some attention. It didn't mean that I didn't still think about the touch of someone's hand or the taste of someone's lips. Being from Silver

Lake though, meant that any decision that I made might as well be broadcast on the morning news. Sometimes it seemed as though everything that I did was part of the grapevine before I even did it. Considering I had just started my first-year teaching at the high school a few weeks before, the last thing I really needed was to start building a bad reputation. I just wanted some fun. I just wanted one night where I didn't have to think about anything but myself and relieving the tension I had been feeling for months. Now as Ethan reached across the car and I felt his fingers touch the inside of my thigh, any hesitation that I might have been feeling melted away. His kiss was burned into the back of my mind and I was aching for more of his touch. I felt my thighs part slightly, inviting him to touch me further. His fingertips ran up my black thigh highs to the bands that held them in place, and then further until they touched my sensitive, vulnerable skin. He

traced the edge of the band until his fingertips, reached the clasp of my garter and I heard him let out a groan. I leaned toward him and pressed my lips to the side of his neck. I could feel his pulse beneath his hot skin and I flicked the tip of my tongue across it. His fingertips tightened on my skin in response to the touch and I felt a sense of relief as the car turned and I realized that we were finally in the hotel parking lot. I unhooked my seat belt as he came around the side and opened the door for me. He offered me his hand and I took it, feeling him pull me up out of the car and press my back against it. His mouth crushed down on mine as he leaned me back against the car; his lips moving across mine aggressively and our tongues tangling. He kissed me until I felt breathless and my mind was spinning. When he finally took his mouth from me we took a few steps toward the back of the car and then he turned, grabbing me by my hips and picked me up to sit me on the trunk. He pushed my

knees apart so that my skirt bunched at the top of my thighs and stepped between them. One hand pressed against the small of my back pulling me up close against him while the other dug into my hair to hold my head steady as he kissed me again. I could feel the delicious pressure of his hardening erection and my hips rocked against it almost involuntarily. We were parked under a streetlight in the parking lot, in full view of anyone who might be looking out of the windows of the hotel, but I didn't care. If he had wanted to pull my panties aside and take me right there, I would have let him. Instead, he picked me up again, put me on my feet and led me into the hotel. He pushed the button on the elevator and as soon as the doors opened, he gave me a gentle push inside. The doors weren't even closed yet when he pushed me up against the wall and flattened his body up against mine. His mouth came to my neck and he kissed his way down to the swells of my

breasts. One hand ran down the side of my thigh and lifted my leg so that it was up at his hip, forcing my skirt up nearly to my hips again and allowing me to feel the bulge of his cock against my damp panties. I gasped as a nudge of his hips sent a shock of sensation through me and grasped at his shoulders. I couldn't decide if I was excited or disappointed when the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open on his floor. Ethan stepped back from me and took me by the front of my shirt, pulling me out of the elevator and down the hallway. I was teetering on my heels and barely keeping up with him, but when I stumbled, I ended up in his arms, which is exactly where I wanted to be. I kissed along the side of his neck and nibbled at his earlobe as he pulled the key to the door out of his pocket and inserted it into the slot. The little light flashed a judgmental red and I laughed at the stream of obscenities that spilled from his mouth as he shook the door and jiggled the

key. I stepped around behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and running my hands up his belly and onto his chest. I could feel his chiseled muscles through his shirt and my thighs grew damp and hot. I molded my body to his back, bringing my hands back down his chest and belly and onto his belt as he continued to fight with the key. "I hate these fucking things," he said. As if his scathing comment was enough to hurt the card-shaped key's feelings, the little green light finally illuminated, and the door popped open beneath Ethan's hand. I held onto him, letting him pull me along with him as he stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him, immediately pressing me to the door and covering me with his body again. His size engulfed me, and I felt fully enveloped by his presence. I felt him stepping out of his shoes and I followed suit. The loss of the height from my heels brought me down so that he

had to lean down to continue kissing me. This brought the heat of his body away from me and I felt a flicker of disappointment. Soon, though, I realized that the step back that he took gave me just enough space to reach between us and release his belt. As I tugged the end of the leather out of the buckle, Ethan pulled off his shirt and dropped it to the floor beside us. He then reached for the ties on the back of my top and loosened them with his eager fingers. The tight top fell away from my body and I wriggled out of it so that it slid down my arms and dropped to the floor. The cool air of the room touched my breasts and nipples, already hardened by the touch of Ethan's hands and mouth, tightening them further. His head dipped down and caught one of them in his mouth, sucking as he ran his hand down my back to reach the zipper on the back of my skirt. I had managed to unbutton and unzip his pants, but they were still up as he guided the zipper down and

pushed my skirt down my hips so that it slid down my legs and pooled at my feet. I stepped out of it and reached for his pants again. He shook his head, wrapping his arm tightly around my waist and yanking me up against him to kiss me again. I looped my arms around his neck, holding him tightly as I rose up onto the balls of my feet to close our height difference as much as possible. He grabbed my ass with both hands and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, allowing the heat of my core to cradle his engorged cock through the fabric of his trunks. I hated that he was still dressed. I wanted every inch of his skin against mine. The tension that I had been feeling had only increased since I saw him and now I felt like I was going to burst with need and anticipation. Ethan carried me over to the bed and tossed me onto it. I bounced and then scooted back a few inches. I watched as he stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at me, his eyes burning into mine.

Without undressing any further, he climbed up onto the bed and crawled forward, capturing my mouth again and pushing me back onto the pillows with the force of his kiss. He took his mouth from mine and kissed his way down my neck and onto my collarbones. His mouth ran across each, then settled above the soft spot between them, the tip coming out to flick across my pulse there. He kissed down the center of my chest and onto my belly, making his way toward my hips and pausing only to dip his tongue into my navel. I gasped at the feeling of his warm breath shivering along my skin and my belly trembled with anticipation and growing need. His mouth continued its path down my stomach until it was at the waistband of my panties. He followed it with a brush of his lips and then slipped his tongue under it to lick from hip bone to hip bone. I arched slightly, trying to encourage his attention lower. My thighs opened, and I hooked my thumbs into my panties, wanting to peel them off and be completely

accessible to him. He pushed my hands away and I felt his mouth close over my core, his hot breath seeping through my panties and sending another bolt of need through me. He breathed in, sucking my clit into his mouth and teasing it through the fabric with the tip of his tongue. I whimpered, biting my bottom lip to try to control myself. My hands found his back and I gripped it tightly, avoiding leaving scratch marks, but pressing my fingers deeply enough into his muscles that he would know the intensity of my desire for him. One hand came to my knee and he traced it up the inside of my thigh. His fingertip slipped beneath the edge of my panties and pulled it to the side. I could finally feel the air on my wet core and I lifted my hips slightly toward his mouth. This time he took my invitation. His tongue slid up through my petals and I cried out at the intensity of the sensation that rocked through me. He didn't

pause or even hesitate. Instead, it seemed that my reaction only pushed him further and soon his tongue was roving over me, delving into every delicate, intimate curve and dip, and finally slipping fully inside me. I felt my body release a new wave of hot fluids into his mouth, readying for him. He ran his hand over my belly, resting on my pelvic bone and turning so that he could massage into my clit with the pad of his thumb. He used the other hand to pull the crotch of my panties aside further so that he had even more access to the rest of my body. He moaned slightly as he lapped me up as if relishing the taste of me on his tongue. The thought was even more erotic, and I drew my knees up slightly to open myself up further. My body was overcome with the sensations he was creating, and I could feel the delicious, delirious pressure of a powerful orgasm building through me. Just as I thought that I was going to topple over the edge, he pulled his mouth away from me and

pushed back. I opened my eyes, my mouth falling open to protest, and saw that he was finally shucking his pants. He pushed his trunks off his hips and a thick, mouthwatering cock sprang out toward me. He climbed up onto the bed, moving until he straddled my stomach. He propped one leg up on his foot, so he sat on one knee and reached down to slip his hand behind my head. I knew exactly what he wanted and was more than happy to oblige. He lifted my head and I supported myself on my elbows as I licked up along the underside of his cock, pausing to create tight circles with just the tip on the bundle of sensitive nerves just under the head. He gave a deep groan and tightened his grip on the back of my head. I lifted up higher and opened my mouth, allowing him to push his hips forward and sink fully in across my tongue. I closed my mouth around his delectable length and sucked him deep toward my throat. That one stroke was enough to fuel him as he held tightly to my

head, thrusting his hips so that my mouth ran along him at a fast, smooth pace. He grunted, his head falling back as he gave himself over to the pleasure of my mouth. I didn't want this all to end too fast, so I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and withdrew him from my mouth. I ran my hand along his length, continuing to stimulate him but also allowing him to cool a little. When he seemed to be back in control of himself, he pushed back off the bed and went to the small overnight bag that was sagging on the floor as if it had just been tossed into place and forgotten. I admired his sculpted body as he leaned down and dug through the bag, coming up with a box of condoms in his hand. He opened it and took out one of the packets, immediately tossing the rest of the box back down onto the bag. He tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom into place over his thick cock still glistening from my mouth.

Climbing back onto the mattress with me, he leaned down and gave me a hard, insistent kiss, then brought his mouth to my ear. "Roll over," he said. "Get on your hands and knees." I shivered at the dominance in his voice and complied with his command, rolling to my stomach and then rising up so that I was in the position that he demanded, presenting myself to him. I felt vulnerable and exposed, but at the same time unchained and without the inhibitions that had for so long held me back. This was what I wanted. Uncontrolled. Unapologetic. Uncharacteristic. Sex in a form that I had never experienced, but that I felt like I needed more than anything else. I felt his fingers touch the base of my neck and run down my back, his nails scraping down my skin, so they sent what felt like little sparks of electricity down to my hips. The heat of his breath touched

my skin and I felt him grab the back of my panties with his mouth. He dragged them down until they caught on my thigh highs. His fingers ran up the garters on each thigh and I heard his husky voice whispering to me. "You should never take these off. Ever." In the next instant, he was pushing my thighs apart and I felt the head of his cock nudging at my opening. I pushed back against it and he thrust forward, letting him plunge into me. He reached forward and grabbed onto my shoulder, using it for leverage to pull me back so that he pressed so far into me I felt like I couldn't hold any more. Then he forced harder and a shock went through me. It was a dizzying blend of intense pleasure and a brief pain, creating something I had ever experienced and yet wanted more of. I arched and felt his hand gather my hair, wrapping it around his hand so that he could pull my head back. I lifted my hips up

higher and his other hand tightened around my upper thigh, using both to control the rocking of my body as he pounded into me. Each thrust was intense, a powerful rush of sensation that pushed me closer and closer to oblivion. He was moving harder and faster, slamming into me with such intensity that my thighs stung where his slapped against them. He was grunting and growling in his chest, seeming to become almost unchained. I felt his hand leave my thigh and come around my hips to dip between my legs. His fingertips found my clit, swollen and sensitive from the arousal that filled me. He swirled his fingers into it, pushing harder and faster to meet the frenzy of his thrusts as if he wanted me to meet his growing fervor. The sounds pouring out of us filled the room and he suddenly released my hair so that he could tuck his arm under my chest and pull me up onto my knees so that my back pressed against his stomach and chest. His hand wrapped around the front of my

throat and I turned my face toward his to kiss him deeply. His fingers continued their masterful manipulation of my body as he stroked harder and faster. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to hold back any longer. I reached around and dug my fingers into his thigh as I released myself, letting my body go. I cried out as the pressure that had built throughout my body dissolved into spasms that shook through me until I felt like I couldn't hold myself up any longer. My body slumped forward, and I caught myself on my elbows. He slammed into me a few more times before letting out an animal-like roar and pushing into me with an impaling thrust that brought another scream from my lips. He stayed that way for a few seconds and then dropped down over me, pressing me down into the mattress.

The sky was still pink with the earliest light of

morning when I opened my eyes. At some point that I didn't remember I had gotten under the blankets, but I felt a chill on my bare shoulder. I reached to pull the blanket up, but my hand brushed against warm skin. I rolled onto my back and glanced to my side. The man who had called himself Ethan was still lying beside me, his back now to me. His breathing was slow and deep, telling me that he was still asleep. I watched him sleep for several beats, then slowly eased myself out from under the blankets. My feet hit the carpet and I started searching in the half-light coming through the partially open curtains for my clothes. Shimmying back into what barely qualified as clothing wasn't necessarily what I wanted to be doing first thing in the morning, but I didn't really have a choice. I hadn't come into this equipped with luggage like he had so unless I wanted to make my exit in the same indelicate adornment I had currently, I was going to have to greet the day in

the tiny skirt and low-cut top from the night before. I don't care. I got exactly what I wanted. I hadn't thought all the way through the situation and it wasn't until I stepped out of the lobby into the cold parking lot and realized that my car wasn't there. I had a brief moment of panic thinking that my car might have been stolen during the night, but then I remembered that I had ridden to the hotel with the man the night before, so my car wasn't there. I had left it at the bar. It might have been towed, but with any luck it was still sitting there, signaling my exploit from the night before. This left me with two choices. Either I could take the couple of miles walk back to the bar in the cold early morning temperatures, or I could use the phone at the front desk and call a cab. It turns out that, much like Silver Lake, the town that I had chosen for my dalliance didn't have its own taxi company and the two men who were

known for occasionally scooping up the drunk or stranded to bring them back to where they needed to be, were still sleeping when the front desk manager gave me their phone number. When I had listened to the discouraging sound of what could only be a landline phone ring for the twentieth time without an answer, I hung up and let out a sigh. Well, that is one decision that has been made for me. "Are you going to be alright?" the woman behind the desk asked. I saw the way that she was looking at me. Her eyes were scanning my outfit and the hair that, try as I might, I wasn't able to fight back into submission when I woke up. There was judgment in those eyes and it made me angry. Who did she think she was? What --- was this the first time that she had ever seen a woman first thing in the morning with obvious sex hair and an

outfit not suitable for daylight viewing? I straightened my shoulders and looked her directly in the eye. "I'll be just fine. Don't you worry." I wasn't embarrassed. I didn't regret what had happened the night before. In fact, I was proud of it. I might have driven out of town to do it to avoid the prying eyes of my neighbors, but I had gone after exactly what I wanted, and I had gotten it. This woman wanted me to feel bad, but there was no way that I was going to give her that satisfaction. I turned with a smile and stalked out of the hotel lobby with my head held high. Fuck the walk of shame. I was going to peacock. The temperature somehow seemed to have dropped even further in the time that I had been in the lobby making phone calls and I felt a shiver roll

down my spine as the wind picked up. I saw the man's car ahead of me and crossed the parking lot to it. I lean down and glanced in the window. Luck seemed to have changed his mind about me and I grinned to myself when I saw that there was a jacket draped over the back seat. I tried the handle on the door and found it unlocked. This didn't really surprise me. The man who called himself Ethan seemed to have had just one thing on his mind when we arrived the night before and that was not practicing exemplary personal safety methods. Trying to convince myself that I was not committing a potential felony, I opened the door and pulled the jacket out of the seat. Hopefully, this man was a late sleeper and I would be able to get back to my car, drive back here, and replace the jacket before he woke up and even notice that it was gone. I couldn't help but breathe in the smell of him as I slipped into the jacket. It was the same warm,

slightly spicy smell that his skin held, and I filled my lungs with it, letting it remind me of all of the delicious moments that we had shared the night before. I zipped up the jacket, flipped the hood over my head and started off down the road. I was feeling slightly less than stable on my heels, but the continued afterglow and confidence was enough to keep me moving. Eventually, I found myself in a good rhythm and humming some walking music as I went. It took me a few minutes before I realized that the song that I was humming was actually what was playing at the bar when the creepy blond man had approached me. I shuddered just thinking about it. I hadn't seen any good prospects at the bar since arriving and seeing that guy walking toward me had been enough to almost make me give up. But then I had stumbled into Ethan's arms. Ethan? Nope. That still just didn't sound right.

Thinking about how the night had unfolded after Ethan had wrapped his arms around my waist and given me that unexpected, blistering kiss was enough to keep me warm for the rest of the walk and I arrived back at the bar in a surprisingly short time. It seemed that the bar wasn't nearly as far down the road from the hotel as I thought it had been. My growing anticipation and desire must have been enough the night before to warp how long the drive had seemed. I was relieved to see that my car was still sitting in the parking spot that I had chosen, and I dug in my purse to find my keys, so I could unlock it as I approached. I slipped behind the wheel and drove back toward the hotel. Carefully parking a few spots away from Ethan's car, I reluctantly took off his warm jacket and draped it back over the seat the way that I had found it. Confident that I hadn't been caught committing grand theft parka, I got back in my car and headed home to Silver Lake feeling more

relaxed and more prepared to face the rest of the school year.

Chapter Three

Garrett Where in the living fuck was I? I leaned forward and stared through the windshield yet again at the dark road ahead of me. I really hoped that this wasn't the beginning of me never being able to figure out where I was when trying to get to Silver Lake. It has been almost two months since my solo trip to find a house and now Jason and I were on our way to settle into our new home. I glanced at my phone again, hoping that the GPS had suddenly sprung into action and was going to redirect me to a better path, but it seemed just as confused as I was. I looked to the side and saw that Jason was still sleeping. He had crossed his arms over his chest and buried his head in a pillow shortly after we had gotten in the car, almost as though being unconscious was his protest to the

move. I knew that he wasn't going to take the news of our transfer very well, but he had been even more brooding and sullen than I had expected in the days since we had started preparing. Now though, he seemed quiet and peaceful. His face had relaxed from its seemingly permanent scowl and suddenly he looked so young again. I hoped that I was doing the right thing for my son and for myself. Though it hadn't seemed like it at the time, now that I looked back on the decision to move, it seemed hasty. I hoped that it had really been the best decision and what was going to give both of us the better life that I had been thinking about. I thought about the trouble that Jason had been getting into recently and the issues that he had been dealing with that led me to make the decision to leave the town where he had grown up and start again in Silver Lake. My son was only a sophomore in high school, but over the last several months I had seen things developing in

him that reminded me too much of myself when I was younger. Though I had eventually gotten back to a good place in life, I knew that there had been no guarantee that it would have worked out for me. I didn't want to think that Jason could end up on the wrong path and never have the chance to find his way back. The reality is that Jason himself was the result of my crazy, wild teenage years. It was because of that, that I often thought of my son as the one who had saved me. It was finding out that my girlfriend at the time was pregnant that had pushed me into joining the military after a prompt marriage. It was there that I learned discipline and respect. It was there that I learned to see myself as more than the product of my own parents' disastrous union. But it was also there that only further confirmed to me that life very rarely unfolds the way that it is planned. Now I was no longer in the military, my experience there had led me into a

fire-fighting career that had brought me to this place, to the position of fire chief for Silver Lake, and the opportunity to give my son the type of life that I hadn't been able to have for myself. That didn't matter, though. If this worked out and I was able to save him, it would be worth it. There was nothing that I wouldn't sacrifice for the good of saving my son. A few minutes later I started to recognize things again. We had made it into Silver Lake and I was relieved to see that the town seemed more awake and alive than it had the last time that I was here. I chalked up the desolate streets and sleeping homes to the fact that I had been traveling so close to Thanksgiving during my last visit and reassured myself that while this town was far from bustling, it would at least offer something for both of us. For me, Silver Lake was a chance to continue my career and be the father that I didn't have. For Jason, this new town offered a fresh start where

people didn't know him or the reputation that he had built, and also gave him a chance to pursue the one great love I had ever seen him have. The baseball team at the local high school was known for being one of the best in the area, and it had been telling him about that team that had finally convinced Jason to stop resisting the move and if not agree to enthusiastically, at least to resign himself to it. As we traveled further into the town, my mind wandered to the last time that I was here and the woman I had met. She had called herself Debbie. Even if I didn't know for certain that that wasn't her actual name because she had been the one to craft the concept of keeping up appearances by coming up with fake names and backstories, I wouldn't have wanted to call her Debbie. She just didn't look like a Debbie. Not that I really knew what a Debbie should look like or what type of name would fit her. My heart rate increased some

just thinking about her. My hands on her skin. My lips on hers. My body enveloped by hers. I remembered the morning after our night together, looking out of the glass door of the hotel lobby as I checked out and catching sight of her. She walked up to my car, opened it, and tucked my jacket back inside. I didn't know why she had it, but when I got into the car ten minutes later, I had picked it up and was still able to catch the light scent of her on the fabric. Beside me, Jason groaned and shifted around. Finally, he sat up and looked through his window first and then through the windshield. "Are we there?" he asked. "Almost," I told him. "We are in the middle of the town now. Our house is just a few minutes away." Our house.

I almost wanted to say it again. Jason and I had spent the years that we had been alone together living in a series of apartments and condos. While they had gotten progressively bigger and nicer over time, I hadn't let myself dream about one day actually having a house of our own. The stability of it had seemed out of reach, and even as my career became more successful and small investments that I had made began to pay off, giving me the ability to buy a house, something inside me had made me hesitate. Now I felt like I understood why. We would need to leave, and I didn't want the ties keeping me, and Jason, in a place that wasn't right for us. Though it was a risk and I felt like I was taking a blind leap, I had had to make the decision that I couldn't hesitate anymore. Silver Lake was our new beginning and buying a house here was the strongest way I could think of to establish ourselves and ensure that we were moving forward. "You're really going to like it here," I said.

He glanced over at me and seem to struggle to withhold rolling his eyes. "I doubt it," he said. "It looks like there isn't very much to do." "I'm sure that there's plenty to do," I told him. "You're going to be starting at your new school in a couple of days and tryouts for the baseball team are soon. Hopefully, you're not going to have a lot of time to be looking for other things to do." I meant it both as a way to encourage him to be more open to our new home and as a warning. I didn't take this move or the tremendous change that it represented in our lives lightly, and I didn't want to think that he did either. I wanted him to know that I wanted him to live up to my expectations. "I know," he said. "We've been over this." I started to say something to him about his attitude but decided to let it go this time. I

remembered being his age and how much upheaval even seemingly small changes could cause. He had just been taken away from the only town he was old enough to remember living in, his school, his friends, essentially everything that he knew. I couldn't really expect an already rebellious teenager to be readily receptive to the situation. I could cut him a little slack now and give him a chance to settle in. Besides, if I was being completely honest with myself, I didn't know if even I was entirely convinced. No matter how hopeful and optimistic I tried to be, there was a part of me that still said this might not work out the way that I wanted it to. It was entirely possible that uprooting Jason was going to be the catalyst for him completely falling apart. In my efforts to help my son get back on track and live a better life, could I actually be pushing him over the edge? "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," he said. "What time is it anyway? It seems like we should be there by now." I nodded. "I got a little bit turned around," I admitted. "It seems the GPS doesn't like to work this far out. But it's actually not as late as it seems. It's just darker out here because there aren't as many lights as there are closer to the city." "Would it be overdramatic if I pointed out that you have literally taken the light out of my life?" he asked. I looked over at him and saw that there was a slight shimmer of humor in his eyes and I laughed, nodding. "That would be very overdramatic," I said. "I think that you will learn to survive on less electrical light. I promise that Silver Lake has sunlight. There's even a moon and stars."

"The moon doesn't actually produce any of its own light, Dad." "Hey, look at you, showing off your science mastery." "Yeah. I'm a science wizard. I am also aware that despite popular belief, the moon is not, in fact, made out of cheese." I laughed again. It was good to hear my son sound like the Jason I used to know before something changed and the fog so common in teenage years settled over him. That was the son I wanted back, the son who I wanted to give a better chance. Getting even that small glimpse of him was enough to motivate me even more. I noticed a building with a neon sign up ahead and pointed at it. "Well, would you look at that? Neon. Your lifeforce."

"It's a pizza shop! Now that is my lifeforce." Buoyed by the appearance of the still-open pizza store, I turned into the parking lot and we headed inside. Jason wanted to stay there and eat, but I was eager to get into our new house and ordered the pizza to go. Soon, classic white pizza box in hand, we got back into the car and headed on our way again. Jason clutched the pizza tightly on his lap as if ready to defend it to the death. He didn't take his eyes away from the windshield again until we had pulled up into the driveway of a white two-story house and I turned off the car. "This is it," I said. He leaned over to glance through my window at the house. I waited for some type of response, but he didn't seem to have much of a reaction. "Really?" he finally said. What the hell kind of reaction is that?

I looked at the house and the porch light that I had purposely turned on and left burning when I found the house during the last visit. The finalities of the purchase were coming the next day, but this was our house. Our new home. "Yes, really," I said, feeling defensive. After a few seconds, Jason nodded. "Which one is my room?" That sounds almost optimistic. "Why don't we go inside and you can find out?" We got out and climbed the steps toward the front door. The worn welcome mat that had been on the porch when I first saw the house was still sitting there. It made me wonder about the people who had lived there before I bought it. They had been gone for quite some time, as the house had been sitting on the market for more than two years,

by the time that I chose it. Even though the last owners of the house had nothing to do with me, the fact that they had been here in Silver Lake brought questions to my mind as to why they had chosen to leave. It was this defensiveness, that had haunted me for my entire life, and that I was struggling to put behind me. I opened the door and we stepped into the entryway. There was a faint smell of cleaner hanging in the air and I wondered if the real estate agent who had sold the house to me had hired a team to come in and clean it in preparation of our arrival. I knew that it was probably more likely that she had come in here herself and cleaned up, getting rid of the slight mustiness and dust that had filled the space when she had first opened the house for me. She had apologized profusely for that, telling me that no one had shown any interest in the house for more than a year. I hadn't minded. I liked that the house had been closed up for so long.

The stillness was reassuring. Jason followed me into the house and looked around, taking in the living room to one side and dining room to the other. Ahead of us was the staircase, sitting in front of the hallway that led down to the eat-in kitchen and two bedrooms. Upstairs were three more bedrooms. It was far more space than either of us had before, and I looked forward to figuring out ways to use it all. I knew that one of the bedrooms would be my gym, holding my weights and treadmill so that I could keep in shape at home rather than always relying on the equipment at the firehouse. The three bedrooms upstairs had already been designated and I waited for Jason to run upstairs and find the one that I had chosen for him. I had arranged for a new bed to be delivered to trade up from the tiny twin he had been in for years and decked it out in the burgundy and gray that he had pointed out to me. Sitting in the middle of the bed was a new bat and

batting gloves. The room positioned in between ours would be an office where he could do his homework and I could keep up with all of those fun aspects of being an adult that I had to take on by myself when my ex-wife left. Paying bills and keeping records wasn't my favorite Saturday afternoon activity, but at least with the new job and the lower cost of living here in Silver Lake it would be even easier to handle and I could grow the college savings I had been secretly keeping for Jason for the last several years. I was spreading the pizza and cans of soda on the floor in the dining room and wishing that I had arranged for the moving truck to show up today rather than tomorrow when I heard Jason's heavy footsteps coming down the steps. At least I knew it was going to be harder for him to sneak out. "What do you think?" I asked.

"It's bigger than my old room," he said. It wasn't a rousing endorsement, but I'd take it. Jason dropped down onto the floor across from me and reached for a slice of pizza. Silence fell between us, but it was a comfortable silence. It was a silence that held the feeling that we were in this together, that maybe this truly was what was best for both of us. That night I stayed up well after I had pried Jason away from his computer and confiscated his phone, forcing him into the teenage limbo of having nothing to do but either sit up and sulk or actually go to sleep. I roamed through our new house feeling on edge. I had hoped that the house would already feel like home, as though the very act of us moving into it would somehow soften all of the edges of the newness and unfamiliarity and create a sense of calm and security. Instead the quiet around us and near-emptiness of the rooms was only a reminder of

how strange and different this was. It only emphasized that this was it, this was our life now, and there was no turning back. It almost felt like the house was testing me, as though it knew who I was and was daring me to overcome all that had happened to me in the past to create a more worthwhile life here in Silver Lake. I hadn't bothered to order myself a new bed along with Jason's, and the one from the old house was still on the moving truck that wouldn't arrive until the next day. This meant that I spent my first night in my new home camping out in the sleeping bag that I had shoved into the trunk of the car with barely enough room to spare. The hardwood floor was one of the most heavily emphasized features of the home when I toured it, and even though it was attractive, at that moment all I cared about was that it was hard and cold enough to make my back ache within a few minutes of laying down. I wished that I had a sexy little distraction to keep me warm

through the night. I had thought of Debbie frequently in the last several weeks, but now I couldn't get her off my mind. Being back here only made those thoughts closer and clearer. A big part of me wanted to get in the car and drive back out to the bar, just to see if she was there. Another part of me though, the logical, more responsible, and sometimes unbearably obnoxious part of me, told me that I couldn't just leave Jason at the house, so I could go chasing the sexy woman that had literally fallen into my arms. Even if I could figure out a way to justify it, chances were she wouldn't be there. Would I even want her to be? That was a question I wasn't sure how to answer. The whole point of making up a name for her was because I had no intention of ever seeing her again. I didn't want even the slightest link to her. Now I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Chapter Four

Gwendolyn

"I'm leaving everything, moving to Hawaii, and becoming a hula dancer." I fought out of my jacket and threw it onto the chair in front of me. The Reverend stared at me as though he wasn't sure what to do. I glared at him as I reached down to pull off my boots. The slushy melted snow outside had managed to creep into the boots and my socks were wet and cold. "Oh, don't look at me like that," I said to him. "I'm sure that I could find an equal-opportunity luau that would be willing to take on a slightly dancing challenged, culturally inaccurate dancer. Maybe I could learn to be one of those fire dancers. I would definitely stay warm then."

The Reverend continued to stare at me and then gave a big, dramatic yawn. His long pink tongue unfurled from his mouth and then his little head dropped forward to rest on his paw. I couldn't expect much more from him. After all, The Reverend Holy Frijole was just a cat. He couldn't really understand the intricacies of my deep-seated hatred for the first few weeks of the year. By this point, I was tired of the dropping temperatures, tired of the gross, partially melted snow, and tired of the overall malaise and funk that settled over after the holiday season came to an end. I once had really high hopes for this season. It had started with a particular pop after my one-night stand with the gorgeous stranger from the bar, but as high as that peak was, the rest of the season kind of tumbled. The sparkle and excitement from that encounter had faded and by the time the New Year rolled around, I was right back to where I was in January of every year. I never really understood why I felt

this way at the beginning of each year. Even though I didn't have anyone to celebrate the holidays with other than my parents for the last few years, I really loved Christmas. It was my favorite time of the year just as it had been since I was a little girl, and I looked forward to it for months. While other people were still gorging on candy corn and seeing just how long the pumpkins would last sitting on their front porch, I was scoping out the first bottles of eggnog and unraveling strands of lights. Every year I was excited. Every year I looked forward to decorating and shopping and singing carols and all those other things that made November through December the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. At the end of the day, however, it was all just another reminder of the fairly solitary life that I lived. I spent time with my parents. I went to parties and gatherings. I attended the abysmal mandatory staff parties with other teachers. When all of that was over, however, I was essentially just

sitting around my house with The Reverend surrounded by a lot of fanciness. I somehow forgot how that felt every year. Some sort of Christmas magic would come over me and I would lose all memory of those long, lonely evenings. I would remind myself of all the reasons why I didn't want a relationship and tell myself that I could enjoy the holiday season just fine all by myself. And when that happened, the decorations would come out and it would all start again. I would have fun at the parties. I would be nostalgic with my parents. I would fill a tiny stocking with catnip and toys for The Reverend. Then Christmas came and went. As much time and effort that I put into decorating, I couldn't bring myself to let the decorations stay up for long after Christmas. Seeing all the decorations up around the house somehow made it even sadder that the season was over, as if they reminded me of

the things that I didn't do that I had intended to, or all the ways that my Christmas season had lacked the resemblance to a Victorian Christmas card that I so hoped one day I would be able to achieve. At that point, my sense of control and organization would kick in and I would have the undeniable urge to take down every last remnant of the Christmas season before the new year came. It would take weeks for me to put up all the decorations, but by December 30th all visual representations of the holiday were totally removed from my home. That just left me with a cold, grey end of winter. I was feeling particularly miserable at the beginning of that January. I had promised myself that I was going to be more social after the resounding success of my romp with the stranger and had even managed to make a date for New Year's Eve. That date, however, had been nothing short of an epic failure and hadn't even made it all the way to midnight. Instead, I had rung in the New Year in a

pair of stretchy pants and a sweatshirt and kissed The Reverend when the ball dropped. Now, I love my cat and he had gotten me through some really tough times, but I wasn't convinced that a kiss from him was enough to really set me up for a good New Year. Now I was in the throes of the miserable weather and the downswing of the holiday season, I was just ready to put it all behind me. My temper tantrum in response to stepping into the half-frozen puddle in front of my house aside, I had committed myself to making the most of the year ahead of me. School was going to be starting up again the next day and I had a lot of ideas that I was excited about for my class. My first few months at the high school had been better than I had even hoped for, and I was looking forward to finishing up the year strong and getting ready for the next. I told myself that, soon enough, spring would return, and I would be able to shake myself out of this gloom. I was peeling off my wet socks and heading

for my bedroom to change into something dry and warm when I suddenly remembered that I would be getting a new student. I knew that it couldn't be easy to move in the middle of a school year, particularly for sophomores in high school. I hoped that my new student would fit in with the rest of the class and that I would be able to do something to make this difficult transition as easy for him as possible. Dressed in my favorite sweat suit and slippers that closely resembled a pair of black boots with a neon geometric pattern, I shuffled my way back into the living room. I picked up the coat that I had thrown to the side and brought it over to the closet to hang up. Feeling like I had regained order in the house, I looked to The Reverend. "So, what sounds good for supper?" I walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. My eyes scanned the assortment of frozen meals that were

stacked neatly along one side. "Turkey or macaroni and cheese?" He turned his head away from me, which I took as an indication that I should celebrate my last evening of break before the school year started again with a container of gooey macaroni and cheese. Once the container came out of the microwave, I brought it into the living room and curled up in the middle of the couch to binge watch a show that I had probably seen ten times before. As the scene on my TV went from a fairly innocuous image of people dancing in a fantastically romanticized nightclub to strangers clawing each other’s clothes off, my mind wandered as it had many times before to the man I had met the week of Thanksgiving. I had gone to that bar with the full intention of picking somebody up or getting picked up. I had wanted the excitement. I had wanted the thrill.

Let's be real honest here, I had wanted the orgasm. I never would have been able to concoct a man like Ethan, though. His body was like nothing I've ever seen and the hunger in his eyes was still burned into the back of my mind. When I close my eyes, I could still feel his fingertips on my skin and his lips pressed against mine. There had been many nights that I had spent fantasizing about him and wishing that I had lingered in the hotel room for just a couple of hours longer.

Just as I had hoped I went into school the next day with a renewed sense of optimism and hope. It was as though some of the fog had lifted and I could see the potential that was lying ahead. I was looking forward to my lessons for the day and to meeting the new student who would join my class. I reviewed the roster when I first got into the

classroom and noticed that the student’s name was Jason Baxter. It didn't give me any more information about him, but as the teacher of what would be his first class in his new school, I felt a sense of responsibility toward him. I wanted him to feel welcome and to get him involved as quickly as I could. I knew that even though these students thought that they were all grown up and ready to take on the world, they were still so young and vulnerable. Something like having to move away from their school and their friends and starting again could be incredibly difficult for them. They may never admit it, but just feeling included and accepted would be extremely important to him. I greeted my students as they began to stream into the classroom. They smiled and I saw all the different thoughts and emotions that they were experiencing. Some of them had the tired, drawing expressions of teenagers who had been pushed into adult lives way too soon and had spent

their Christmas break working as hard as they could. Others looked tired but lacked the stress, telling me that instead of working, they had spent their break partying. Still, others met my eyes and smiled, their faces bright and cheerful, ready to get started. These were the overachievers. The ones who have been born for something so much more than the small town of Silver Lake could give them. They had been striving their entire lives for the success that seemed promised to them. What I didn't see was a new, unfamiliar face. I waited for the first bell of the school day that indicated that homeroom had begun. I waited a few minutes longer for the tardy bell to ring. Still no new student. I tried not to worry. He was new, which meant that he may not be familiar with the area and could have gotten lost on his way. He also could still be in the office trying to work through registration papers and other formalities before getting started. I had noticed that his name also

showed up on a class roster for later in the day, so I expected that I would meet him then. The homeroom was only the first twenty minutes of the day, and I spent all of it talking to my students about their time away from school. What had begun as a carefree conversation soon dissolved into a debate over who got better gifts and which parties were the most fun. Somewhere in the midst of it all, a girl named Brittany bemoaned the fact that her father had chosen the wrong new cell phone for her and a boy named Nathan recounted the dizzying amount of alcohol that he had consumed on New Year's Eve with seemingly no regard to the fact that he was sitting within five feet of his teacher. The bell rang, and I shouted over their voices to tell them that they were dismissed. Several of them said goodbye to me as they streamed out of the classroom and I couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory. I had come into the school brand new, only just having

graduated from college two years before. Some of the students looked older than me and I had worried that I wouldn't be able to gain their tolerance, much less their respect. But here I was just a few months into the year and I not only felt as though they saw me as a teacher on par with the others but that they actually liked me. That was what I felt like all teachers hoped for at the beginning of their careers. It was aspirations of helping to mold young minds and craft successful futures that fueled people into careers in education. It certainly wasn't the paycheck. There had been times since the first day of school that I had caught myself sitting behind my desk staring out at the faces of my students, wondering almost aimlessly about the futures of each of them. I wondered which were going to be the ones that would go off to college. Which would follow through with the plans that they had had since they were young children and find themselves

in the careers that they had always planned? Which would change their minds completely when they got into college and embark on journeys that they never could have imagined? Which might not make it at all? It was that last thought that was always the hardest and the one that I tried to chase from my mind anytime that it appeared. I had seen destruction. I had seen the way that life could tear people down and leave them barely resembling who they had been. I didn't want to think that any of the children sitting in the classroom in front of me could fall victim to life the way that I had seen happen before. That thought always sent a chill down my spine. It reminded me of bright eyes and laughing smiles, a young ambitious man who thought he finally had the world at his feet, till the darkness and secrets that he held deep within him eventually came out to consume him. I pushed the thought away and continued on with my day. Finally, it was time to teach the class

that should have my new student in it. I watched as my usual class streamed into the room and took their places at their desks. I listened to the bells. It played out almost exactly like homeroom and again the new student didn't appear. I checked the roster again just to make sure that changes hadn't been made, but the name Jason Baxter was still there on my class list. My next period after that class was lunch and as soon as the bell rang to dismiss the class I made my way to the front office to talk to the principal. "Hello, Gwendolyn," Mr. Jefferson said as I stepped into his office. "How is your first day back been?" "It's been going pretty well," I said, feeling slightly uneasy. "Have you heard anything about the new student that I was supposed to have?" The tall, almost skeletally thin principal looked up at me from the desk where he was sifting

through papers. I would never understand how a man as seemingly flighty and disorganized as he was had risen through the ranks to become a principal of a high school. He was kind and compassionate, almost to a fault, but there was never a time when I saw him that he didn't seem at least slightly flustered, and as though his thoughts were a few steps behind or a few steps ahead what was actually happening in that moment. "New student?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "Jason Baxter? He was supposed to be in my homeroom and in History. He hasn't been in either one of them today. I thought that he was supposed to start when the year started up again." Mr. Jefferson looked at me as if he was trying to process what I was saying, then drew in a breath as though almost startled by remembering the new student.

"Oh, yes. Jason Baxter. We've been looking forward to welcoming him. He wasn't in either class?" "No," I said, shaking my head. "Have you seen him in the office today?" "No," Mr. Jefferson said. "I had intended to meet with him this morning, but time got away from me. I think that he and his father met with Mrs. Applegate, though. You should ask her." I nodded. "Thank you," I said. I walked out of the principal's office and headed toward the office of the vice principal just down the hallway. She, too, was sitting behind her desk, which was not as chaotic as Mr. Jefferson's. Mrs. Applegate's desk was streamlined and calm. Not for the first time, I wondered why she was still in the vice principal position and he was the

principal. I figured that it was because her role often entailed more actual interaction with the students and the parents which benefited from her organization and control, while he performed much like a figurehead of the school and charmed people with his charismatic and unassuming personality. "Good afternoon, Gwendolyn," she said when she noticed me at her door. "Hi," I said. "I just wanted to check in with you about the new student Jason Baxter." "Yes," she said. "I had a brief meeting with him and his father this morning before classes started. Is there a problem?" "I hope not," I said. "It's just that he is on the roster for two of my classes and I haven't seen him today. I just wanted to check to make sure that he hadn't been moved out of my classes." The vice principal looked up at me with

concern in her eyes. "You haven't seen him?" she asked. "No," I said, starting to feel frustrated having to repeat myself. "He was supposed to be in my homeroom and in my History class last period and he did not arrive for either one of them." She stood and came around the desk. "Have you talked to any of the other teachers?" "No. When he was missing from homeroom this morning I assumed that it was because it was his first day and he was getting used to the school. I came here directly after the second class that he missed." She nodded, looking toward the still-open door of her office. "I'll page the teachers for his other classes

and check to see if he was in either of them." A few minutes later the other teachers had confirmed that Jason Baxter had not shown up for any of his classes that day. I was feeling myself slide between fear that something had happened to him and frustration at the thought that he was an angry teenager who might have tried to run back to his hometown. Mrs. Applegate told me that she would handle the situation and encouraged me to go use the last few remaining minutes of my lunch to get something to eat, but I couldn't think about anything other than this student being missing. I wandered the nearly empty hallways and thought that I had scoured the entire school when I noticed a door leading to the outside was being propped open by a rubber wedge. This school had not been overlooked by the nearly fanatical policy changes that have been put into place in response to the violence that had erupted in schools in recent years, as was evidenced by the sign on the door that

declared it off limits during normal school hours and insisted the door always remain closed. I walked toward the door with the intention of removing the wedge when I noticed that someone was sitting just outside. I pulled my light blue sweater closer around myself in response to the cold air that was rushing in through the open door and peered out at the student. The young man sat on the sidewalk with his back against the brick wall of the school and his knees pulled up to his chest. He was wearing black jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt that he had pulled down over his forehead, so I could barely see his face. His hands were clasped in front of him and I saw that he was wearing black fingerless gloves and the skin that was exposed looked dried as though chapped by the wind. "Shouldn't you be in class?" I asked. He didn't bother to look up at me, but I saw

him shake his head slightly. "Maybe," he said. "But not here." "What do you mean?" "I should be in class at my old school." A realization suddenly hit me. "Jason? Jason Baxter?" He glanced up at me and I saw a distinct expression of disdain in his eyes. "Who wants to know?" He asked. People actually said that? "I do," I said. "I'm Ms. Martin. I'm your homeroom teacher and your History teacher. You haven't been in either class today." He scoffed and turned again to look back out over the parking lot. "I know."

"Why haven't you?" "Because I didn't want to." "So, you decided instead that you were just going to come sit out here in the cold and stare out over a nearly empty parking lot?" He shrugged. "If you didn't want to be in class, why didn't you go somewhere? Why did you just sit here?" Was I seriously asking him why he hadn't run away from school? I think that qualifies as contributing to the delinquency of a minor and am fairly certain that that's frowned upon in teachers. "No car," he said. "Besides, I don't know where I am. I just moved here." I nodded. "I know. Come on, you need to come inside."

"Why?" "Because it's still the middle of the school day and you're supposed to be in class." "I told you, I don't want to." "I don't really think that matters," I said. "Unless you've turned 18 recently, by law you have to be in school. You don't have the choice. And besides, three-quarters of the people in that building don't want to be here. If they have to be, you have to be. Come on." I was genuinely surprised when he let out a labored sigh and climbed to his feet. I was fairly certain that most of his motivation to go inside balanced on the cold temperature and quickly worsening wind, but I decided to take a little credit for it anyway. Maybe later in the year we would look back at this as the defining moment of our mutually beneficial student-teacher relationship. Or I had just rewritten my life as an inspirational

Women's Network movie. As resistant as Jason had been when I found him outside, he became nothing short of defiant by the time we reached the office and I handed him over to Mr. Jefferson. I wasn't sure what the principal was going to do to handle the situation, but at this point, I was approximately thirty seconds away from the lunch bell ringing and I didn't want to risk my class sitting unsupervised in a classroom. I told Jason that I expected to see him the next day in homeroom and then hurried back to my classroom. The day had begun so optimistically, but now I felt suddenly drained and frustrated. My mood didn't improve through the afternoon and by the time the final bell rang, I was exhausted. I was walking down the main hallway toward the doors to the faculty parking lot when one of the other teachers scurried up to me. "Hey, Gwendolyn," she said.

"Hi, Sarah," I said. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Just a long day," I said. "I think that the break kind of got the best of me." She nodded. "I know how that feels. But this is just your first year. You'll get used to it." "I hope so. I just want to go home, take off these shoes, and relax for a while." "Well, don't relax for too long, you don't want to forget to make the trifle." I looked at her strangely. "Trifle?" I asked. Sarah's eyes widened and I realized that I had forgotten something. "You have to make the trifle! That's supposed

to be the centerpiece of the dessert table." Her near-panic told me that whatever it was that I had forgotten was important. "I'm sorry," I said. "What dessert table?" Her eyes widened even further, and I worried that they might pop out. "For the welcome party tonight! How can you have forgotten? We've been planning this for weeks." I suddenly remembered what she was talking about and I groaned. "Oh, that. I'm sorry, Sarah. I remember now." In all fairness, it had mostly been her that had been planning this party for the last several weeks. She had taken up the cause of welcoming the town's new fire chief and roped me into helping arrange for a celebration at the community center

that evening. I had promised to make my signature trifle for the dessert table and should have started the day before. The fact that none of it was made yet meant that I was going to have no time to relax when I got home from work. Instead, I was going to have to head straight into the kitchen and hope that I could put it together fast enough. "Don't be late," Sara warned. "I need your help finishing the decorations." I nodded, wondering how I had gotten myself so involved in this. Then I remembered that it was part of my push for more socialization that had occurred right before my miserable New Year's Eve date. I chastised myself for my reaction as I walked out of the school and toward my car. I had been excited about the prospect of the party and looked forward to helping Sarah get ready for it when we first started talking about it. I knew that the way that I was acting right now was just a reaction to

the rough start with my new student and feeling like my aspirations to be the best teacher that I could be were being threatened. Actually, the way I was acting right now was just plain obnoxious and if I wasn't me I probably wouldn't like myself very much. With that thought in mind, I got behind the wheel of my car, pulled down my rearview mirror, and stared at myself. I plastered on a smile and kept it there until I started to feel some of the funk lifting from me. It was definitely a fake-it-til-youmake-it-situation, but it was working, and I was going to go with it. The Reverend was waiting for me when I got back to the house and I took a few moments to cuddle with him and feed him a bowl of his favorite food before I got started on the trifle. He took a few mouthfuls and looked at me like he was forgiving me for my snippy mood recently. While the cake was baking, and the cream was chilling, I took a shower and then stood in front of my closet

contemplating what I should wear to the party. I knew that it was just a community center gathering, but at the same time, it was an exciting evening for Silver Lake. The good old boy system had been alive and well for a long time in the town which meant that the fire department seemed largely like a hereditary monarchy. Things have gotten shook up in recent years, however, and with the welcoming of this new fire chief, it seemed that there might be a refreshing change coming. Besides, any time that there was some fresh blood in such a small town it was an exciting prospect, if for nothing more than the novelty of it all. I had managed to heed Sarah's warning, but only just barely, scooting into the community center with just minutes to spare before the time that I told her I would arrive. I was balancing the finished trifle in one hand and unbuttoning my jacket with the other when she rushed up to me.

"Thank goodness! You finally made it!" "I'm not even late," I pointed out. "Well, things are going downhill fast. The balloons are the wrong color. The crepe paper isn't twisting properly. And the jello mold didn't set enough so now it's leaking all over the platter." I wasn't entirely sure what a tizzy was, but I felt fairly certain that if there was anyone who had ever had one, it was her. Sarah seemed absolutely at the edge and I reached out with my free hand to pat her on the shoulder. "It's going to be alright," I told her. "What color are the balloons?" "Powder blue," she said. I looked at her strangely. "I thought that you wanted blue," I said. "Baby blue!" Sarah wailed.

I patted her shoulder again. "I think it's going to be alright," I repeated. "As for the jello mold, didn't you say that you were making a fire truck?" "Yes," she said. "Then we'll just tell everybody that the hose is leaking." She didn't look completely convinced, but I didn't give her a chance to respond. I skirted around her and headed toward the dessert table where I deposited the trifle in the center. Then I turned and surveyed the rest of the room, trying to identify where I could be most helpful running interference between Sarah and the other people who might not know the level of perfectionist party planner crazy that was about to hit them.

Chapter Five

Garrett

I looked into the large mirror hanging on the wall for what felt like the thousandth time that evening and ran my fingers back through my hair. I chastised myself for the nervousness that I was feeling and the fact that it had reduced me to essentially an anxious teenage boy getting ready for his first date. Of course, I hadn't felt that way when I actually was a teenage boy, but that seemed to make this even worse. I was usually completely sure of myself. In fact, I was downright cocky. Something about Silver Lake, though, seemed to take that confidence out of me and leave me questioning myself at every turn. I didn't like it and

I could only hope that its influence would dissipate over time as I got more used to being back there and to the people. In order for that to happen, I was going to have to get through the event that night that was inspiring the anxiety and sense of dread that had settled into my belly. I checked my phone and realized that I only had a few minutes before I needed to leave if I was going to get to the community center in time for the party that was being held in my honor. I had heard of small towns rolling out the welcome wagon for new families, but I never thought it was an actual thing. Apparently, though, Silver Lake took this very seriously and was determined to make me feel as welcome as possible, while also giving me the grand tour of as many people from the town as was possible in one evening. It was that part that was making my palms sweat and my mind spin with what seemed like a never-ending series of worstcase scenarios. I knew in the logical part of my

mind that I was being ridiculous at best and a massive pansy at worst. The chances that there was anyone still living in the town who was there when I lived there when I was younger were slim. Even if there were still people who lived here or family members of those people, I knew that they wouldn't recognize me. My last name wasn't the same that it had been when I lived here. That had been changed when my family shattered, and each individual shard was forced into a new existence. That would keep them from being able to judge me based on my family. Knowing that, though, didn't stop me from worrying about a showdown with elderly townsfolk wanting to run me out again. The importance of the role of fire chief in a small town like this didn't escape me, and I didn't want to do anything that might compromise my reputation before I even had a chance to build it.

It was that same feeling that was motivating me to go to the party rather than concocting a mystery illness that would allow me to bow out of it gracefully. As much as I worried about the people of the town and how they might react if they knew who I had been, I also felt the distance between then and now. I knew that I wasn't the same person and was living a different life. I came to this community not feeling as though I was coming "back" or returning home, and I wanted to continue that. I wanted to meet the people and do as much as I could to become a part of them. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had the opportunity to really establish roots, and I wanted to make the most of it. Even if I thought there was a strong possibility that the majority of the town shutting down at nine might drive me to the brink of insanity. There was a part of me that felt like maybe I could

make up for everything in my past. I knew that it wasn't my fault. I had nothing to do with it. Yet I still carried the stain of my family inside of me and sometimes when people looked at me I thought that they could see it. That had influenced me, molded me, and crafted me into the person I was. I had fought to make the most of myself and to let that influence be a good thing for me and for my son. Now I could make atonement. I leaned forward on the bathroom counter, pressing my hands down onto the cool marble and staring into my own eyes in the mirror in front of me. There were times, more often than I would like to admit when those eyes didn't even look like my own. Instead, they were my father's. They stared back at me with the same darkness and sent the same chill through my spine that they had that last night when I saw him. That was the night when those eyes turned to my mother and instead of just looking at her with disdain, they looked at her with

hatred. I didn't know then that he shouldn't have been in the house that night. I didn't know that there was a piece of paper in my mother's bedroom that said he wasn't allowed to be near either of us. I didn't even know what a divorce was or that it meant that they were no longer together, and my father didn't live with us anymore. I had just figured that he was away for work or that he was visiting someone else over the last several weeks. That wasn't enough, though. Divorce wasn't enough. I knew that now better than I ever would have known it then. I would never really know what exactly had led him to look at her that way or what had built up inside of him to the point that he could wrap his fingers around the handle of the knife that was sitting on the kitchen table. Something must have happened that day to bring him to the house and to lock them in that confrontation, but no one ever

told me. I didn't know if I wanted to know. Nothing could ever explain what he did. It didn't matter what he had gone through or what was happening between them. Nothing would ever make me believe that the fury in his eyes and the tightness of his grip on that knife were justified. Even now as an adult I wondered if I would be able to understand what was going through his mind or his heart in that moment. As a child, I certainly didn't understand. All I understood was terror. I should have run. I should have tried to get out of the house. Maybe if I had I would have been able to find help. Instead, I was paralyzed with a fear that was coursing through me. I couldn't move beyond the corner of the room where I sat on the carpet playing with my army men figurines. I tightened my hold on those toys in the same way that my father tightened his hold on the knife that was in his hand. I could still feel the hard, green plastic digging into my palms and fingers as I

squeeze the men tighter and tighter. To this day I don't know if my father even knew that I was there. His focus was unbreakable. He was thinking of nothing but the blade and my mother's throat. I stayed right there where I had been sitting until the smell of the blood filled my lungs and my mother's screams deadened in my ears. They had ended, but they were never silenced. Even now I could still hear them. My father left the knife embedded in the carpet beside my mother and returned to the kitchen. I didn't know what he was doing. I couldn't see him any longer. That was when I left. I ran for the phone that was in my parents’ bedroom, but there was nothing but a disheartening silence on the other end when I picked it up. It wasn't until I put it back in its cradle that I realized the wires had been torn from the wall. It was the same with the phone in the small office. By the time that I got back into the living room, the front door of the house was standing open and my father

was no longer in the kitchen. I didn't bother to go for the phone there. If he was in that room that meant that the wires to the phone would be dangling in the same frayed condition as the other phones. I went back into the living room and my eyes fell on my mother. I didn't want to look at her that way, but it seemed that I couldn't keep my gaze away from her. I wanted to see her face. Instead, all I could see was the wound in her throat. There was fraying there, too, and for many years after I wasn't able to look at the wires of a phone without my stomach turning and tears stinging the back of my eyes. I ran out of the front door of the house that day, not knowing that I would never step foot in it again. Instead, I ran down the street, afraid that at any moment my father was going to be there in front of me. I didn't know where he was. I didn't know then that he had gone into the kitchen to get more knives. I didn't know that he had gone to the

next-door neighbor's house. I didn't know that the screams I was hearing in my mind weren't reverberations of my mother's voice. I was still holding onto my army men when I got to the police station. Maybe that was why they didn't seem to believe me when I first told them what I had seen. They thought that it was my imagination, that it was part of the game that was playing out through the little plastic figures gripped so tightly in my young hands. Finally, someone noticed the footprints that my shoes had left across the floor of the lobby. It glistened with the blood that I had picked up crossing the living room to the front door. I squeezed my eyes closed, tightening my grip on the bathroom counter and trying to count. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10 I tried to focus, to pull myself out of those bitter, painful memories and thoughts. I drew myself inward, dragging my consciousness away

from the edges of my mind where those memories lurked and forcing them to think only of the numbers I kept repeating. 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4...3...2... 1 Finally, my heart rate normalized, my breath returned to its steady pace, and I felt in control again. I had been told countless times before that these memories would always be with me and that I would never truly escape them. That never stopped me from trying. I pushed away from the counter and turned the bathroom light off. I walked down the hallway to Jason's bedroom and knocked on the door with one knuckle. "Jason," I called through the door. "We need to get going." "I told you that I'm not going," he called from inside his room.

"And I told you that you don't have a choice," I said. I heard a few stomping footsteps approach the door and it opened. Jason stared out at me with a look of exasperation on his face. "Why? Why do I have to go with you to this thing? They're throwing the party for you, not for me." "They're throwing the party to welcome me into the community. That means that they're going to want to meet you and welcome you as well." "What if I don't want to be welcomed?" "Again, you don't have the choice. And you need to cut the attitude." "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that I wanted to go hang out with some new friends tonight." "New friends?" I asked.

I was surprised to hear Jason mentioning having made any new friends. He had only gone to one day of school, and when he came home he didn't have anything to report other than the fact that he didn't like his History teacher. He hadn't mentioned even meeting any new people, much less making any friends who he would want to spend any time with. "Yeah," he said. "I met a couple of guys and they're going to be hanging out tonight." "Well, I'm sorry, but we have something else to do. You can hang out with them another time. Come on. We've got to get going." Jason let out another of his masterfully teenaged sighs but followed me out of his room and through the house. There were already several cars in the parking lot at the community center when we arrived, and I was worried that we might be late.

When we stepped inside, however, I saw that the people there were still scurrying around making preparations for the party. We had only been there for a matter of seconds when a bright-eyed woman rushed up to me. "Oh! Mr. Allen! You're here!" "Yes," I said, "but it's Garrett." The woman smiled at me and extended her hand toward me. I took it and she shook it enthusiastically. "Yes, Garrett, of course. I'm Sarah. I'm the head of the committee throwing the party tonight." "It's very nice to meet you," I said. "And thank you for doing all this for me." She blushed so deeply I wondered if that sentiment meant something different here. "Oh, it was nothing. It's the least that we

could do to welcome you here and show you how excited we are to have you as our fire chief. I have it on good authority that your firefighting career has been very impressive." "Thank you," I said. "I'm happy to be here and look forward to serving the community in my new post." "Come with me," she said. "There are so many people who want to meet you." I started following her further into the room and Jason fell into step behind me. As we made our way through the room meeting other members of the committee and watching as the final touches were being put on the preparations for the party, more people started streaming in and soon the small room started to feel almost crowded. I turned to introduce Jason to one of the firefighters who would be working with me and found that he was no longer standing behind me. I looked around but

didn't see him. At some point, he had disappeared into the growing crowd and I assumed that he had ventured off to hang out with his friends as he had planned, feeling as though he had fulfilled his obligation of coming to the party by at least coming to the community center with me and meeting some people. I was angry with him for going against what I had told him, but at the same time, I was happy that he had managed to meet people and make friends so quickly. I reminded myself that that was part of the reason why we were here in the first place, and I should be glad that he was assimilating into his new community, rather than trying to find any way that he could to go back to our old home. I couldn't be angry that he wanted to go out and enjoy himself. It was a good thing, and hopefully the first step on the right path. We just might need to have a conversation about his interpretations of my instructions. Half an hour later I was standing with several

older members of the community eating my way through a towering plate of dessert. I probably should have stuck with the vegetable tray and intriguing interpretation of a fruit sculpture, but my sweet tooth was hard to control when I was presented with an entire table of treats. I figured in the greater scheme of my character flaws, the occasional indulgence in far too many refined sugars and carbohydrates were the least of my worries. I would just spend some extra time in the tiny gym I was setting up in the house. Just as I expected they would, the people standing around me were asking questions and trying to figure out as much about me as they could. I was carefully navigating telling them about myself without delving too deeply into my past. I focused on my time in the military and the years that I had spent fighting fires rather than my family or my broken marriage. When they asked, I simply told them that my parents were dead, and I had no extended

family. And it was just me and my son. Fortunately, they seemed satisfied. I was fairly sure that I wouldn't be getting as many bright smiles and encouraging pats on the back if they knew that the reason I was a single father was because I left my wife behind after she cheated on me with my best friend and made it abundantly clear that she had no interest in being a mother. Part of me hated that I was doing that. The fact that she was gone wasn't Jason's fault. It wasn't even my fault. Yet it left both of us marked, just as I had been marked by my father. I didn't want him defined by the past, but I didn't know how to escape it. I was taking a bite of my third helping of a trifle that I had gotten from the table when I glanced up and saw a woman staring at me. She was across the room and people were passing in between us, periodically blocking her from my view. But every time that they passed, and she became visible again, I saw that she was looking at

me. Her pale blonde hair was hanging to her shoulders and she wore a sweater over a dress that went nearly to her ankles. She glanced away, talking to the bubbly woman who had greeted me, then down at the food on the plate that she was holding. A few moments later, she looked up at me again. I stared at her, trying to remember if she was one of the people who I had met during the party. I couldn't remember talking to her, but there was something familiar about her face. I saw Sarah return to her side, looking frantic, and the woman followed her away deeper into the crowd. I continued to eat and meander through the party, going over the speech that I knew that I was going to make, in my head. I had been hesitant when they told me that they wanted me to make a brief speech. I had never been one to enjoy public speaking and I didn't really know what I should say to them. They had been insistent, however, and I had spent the last several days methodically trying

to come up with a statement that would seem sufficiently friendly and grateful without leaving me up at the podium for more than a few moments. I was debating over the way that I would wrap up my speech when I looked up and noticed the woman again. She was now standing next to the dessert table, but she was still staring intently at me. I was a few steps closer to her than I had been the first time I saw her, and she looked even more familiar. Suddenly she reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, at the same time licking her bottom lip and a memory burst into my mind. This was the gorgeous, sultry woman I had the one-night stand with. It was shocking to see her standing there, but it was equally shocking to see her in such a different way. When she was at the bar, she looked nothing short of Lycra and leatherpackaged sex. Now her face was fresher, her hair soft and without the styling product that it had, and the clothing she was wearing was demure. The

effect made her seem older than I would have thought she was when I met her and made her look like she hoped she could fade into the wallpaper of whatever room she happened to find herself in. I raised my eyebrows at her and her cheeks flushed. I knew that she recognized me too. Making my way across the room, I didn't take my eyes away from her. I didn't want her to have a chance to disappear into the crowd. She seemed to be busying herself arranging the silverware and straightening the piles of napkins on the table when I approached and stood beside her. "Hi there, Debbie," I said softly. "Are you here advertising your flea circus?" "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice a hushed whisper. I scoffed. "Of course, you do."

She looked up at me sharply. Though the expression on her face didn't continue it, there was still hunger in her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked. I laughed. "What do you mean what am I doing here?" I asked. "What are you doing here?" "I'm helping with the party," she said. "Sarah is fantastic at coming up with ideas, but she gets a little flighty when it comes to actually pulling it all together." "So, you are moral support?" I asked. "Not entirely," she said. "I hung some crepe paper and I pushed a bunch of balloons that were apparently too blue to be blue into a back storage room. I also made a dessert." She was adorable trying to explain her

involvement in the party and I felt my stomach tightening. She had been sexy and exciting when I met her at the bar, but she was enticing in a different way now. She was cute, but not in the giggly, flaky way that so many women were. She was sassy, and I could see a spark in her that intrigued me. "Which dessert did you make?" I asked. She pointed to the nearly empty trifle dish in the center of the table. "The trifle," she said. "It's my signature dessert." "That was my favorite," I told her. "I had three servings." "So, it's your fault that we're almost out of it," she said. I shrugged.

"The other people just weren't fast enough." She laughed softly, then quieted and continued to look at me for several seconds. "So," she said. "I guess we managed to find each other again." "I guess we did," I said. "Well, if we're going to be in the same town, we should probably come clean." Oh, lord. What did she mean by that? "Come clean?" I asked. She nodded. "I happen to know that your name isn't Ethan," she said. I withheld a sigh of relief. "And you're not Debbie," I said. She shook her head.

"My name is Gwendolyn," she told me. "And I don't run a flea circus." "To be fair," I said, "you didn't say that you ran the flea circus. You said that you were the costume designer for the flea circus." She laughed. "Alright," she said. "Well, I'm not the costume designer, either." "So why did you pick Debbie? You don't really look like a Debbie." "I've been having a major craving for a snack cake," she admitted. "A snack cake?" I asked with a laugh. "You can make a trifle like this and you reach for box snack cakes?" "Hey," she said with mock defensiveness. "I might be able to layer, but I don't have anything on

Little Debbie." "Fair enough," I said. I started to reintroduce myself to her, but I felt a hand on my elbow and I looked over my shoulder to see Anthony, the man who had hired me, standing behind me. "I'm sorry, Gwendolyn, but I'm going to need to steal him for a minute." She shrugged, and I smiled at her before following Anthony toward the podium across the room. I knew it was time for me to do my speech. By the time that I stepped behind the podium my nervousness at speaking in front of the group was gone as was virtually everything that I had planned to say. Fortunately, I managed to ramble on for a few minutes, elicited a few laughs, and walked away with the applause of the crowd I felt I had effectively convinced that if they happened to find themselves in a fire or other such an emergency,

they could trust me to actually be there for them and help them out of it. Shaking hands and graciously accepting the congratulations and welcome wishes of the people who crowded up to the podium after I spoke, I made my way back across the room toward the dessert table to continue my conversation with Gwendolyn. When I arrived, however, I found the plate that she had been holding sitting on the edge of the table, and she was gone. This wasn't exactly the reenactment of our last encounter that I was thinking about.

Chapter Six

Gwendolyn

I was still thinking about Garrett when I got to school the next morning. Garrett. Not Ethan. Somehow that fits so much better. Every thought about him made me feel a little bit woozy and I couldn't get my mind off the night that we had spent together. It was those thoughts, though, that had caused me to rush out of the party the night before, while he was still up at the podium speaking. I didn't know how I could possibly be so stupid that I didn't know who he was when I saw him. How could I possibly help throw a party to welcome the new fire chief in town, and then not recognize him when I saw him? Even more

than that, how could I not know that I had already been his very own welcome committee in a way I'm sure the elderly members of the community were just not up for providing? As soon as I saw Anthony leading him away from me and up to the podium to make his speech, I had felt my stomach drop. He hadn't had the opportunity to, so it was up to me to make the slow, embarrassing realization of who he was as he stood up there and thanked everyone in attendance, including me, for being so friendly and gracious. It wasn't that we had a one-night stand. It wasn't even that I had left the hotel in the morning before he was able to wake up. What embarrassed me is that he had uncovered who I really was. Now it made so much sense why he was more than happy to give fake names and create ridiculous stories for ourselves when we were still in the bar. He didn't have anything to cover up. Other than his name, he was essentially the same person that I had met in

the bar. Gorgeous. Strong. Charismatic. What was completely different was me. Yes, I had a fake name that was inspired by my favorite cream-filled snack cakes, not a little bit because from the minute I saw him I hoped that I might get a chance to be a little cream filled myself, but that wasn't the only thing that I faked. I was a complete construct when he met me in that bar. I was wearing clothing that I had only worn once before. I had packed on more makeup then I had probably worn cumulatively in the last month. I had a swagger and a confidence about me that had been fueled by my frustration and tension. It wasn't me he had met in that bar, or who he had brought back to the hotel, or who he had ravished and left blissfully satisfied. That was the person I had created. I couldn't imagine that he would feel the same way about me now that he knew what I usually looked like, or if he knew that I was just a quiet divorcee High School teacher who got

excitement from binge-watching salacious TV far more frequently than I did from another human being. It felt easier just to walk away from the party the night before. I was mad at myself for doing it, but at the same time, I didn't know how I would handle having him walk down from that podium and approach me again. My thoughts of him and our night together had only become more common and more intense as the days and weeks passed, and I knew that I still wanted him. But just as much as I worried about how he would react to the real me, I was tangled in my thoughts and emotions about who he really was. The night that we spent together, his intensity and strength had been thrilling and enticing. He was a fantasy, a sexy dream that I had managed to somehow will into reality. I didn't have to think about the type of person he was outside of that room. I didn't have to think about how that smoldering, bad boy vibe

played out when we weren't in bed. It was like I could go home and pretend that he wasn't even real. Now I didn't have that option. He was very real and very tangible, and I knew that the more time that I spent with him, the more I would learn about him, and the truth was I was afraid of what I might find. I was all too familiar with men who carried themselves with that confidence and who had that alluring, almost irresistible bad boy persona. The experiences that I had had with that type of personality had left me with deep scars that no one could see, but that had shaped and influenced me. The thought of men like that made me bristle. I feared men like that. I couldn't trust them. The thought that Garrett could be anything like the other men in my life was enough to make me wish I had never seen him again. At the same time, however, I didn't get the same feeling from him that I had from the other men who had hurt me so

much. Especially one. The one who I would never forget. The one who had changed me. Garrett didn't strike me as being like them. He was powerful and intense, but he didn't seem to have the same level of disregard for others. He walked through a room with absolute confidence and I had to admit that there was some arrogance in him, but he was also kind and friendly to those who were speaking to him. Yes, our night together had been anonymous. He had lied to me about his name and about who he was. But that was my doing. I was just as much of a liar as he was. Our exchange had been light-hearted and consensual, fun and playful. There had been nothing about it that seemed manipulative or truly deceptive. It hadn't upset me then, but I was having trouble understanding how I should feel about him now. I didn't have the same block of classes that

day that I had the day before, which meant that I wasn't going to have to wonder if Jason Baxter was going to a show up in my classroom. The only time that I was supposed to see him was in the brief homeroom of the day, and I was a little surprised when he walked in just before the late bell rang. He walked in staring directly at me as if he wanted to make sure that I made eye contact with him and acknowledged that he was there. It wasn't the same as my more eager students who didn't get enough from maintaining impeccable grades and also felt the compulsion to add exemplary attendance, conduct, and citizenship to their string of accomplishments. Instead, it felt almost like a dare. It was as though he had shown up just so that he could have that brief moment of silent confrontation with me like he was making his move and wanted to see how I would react. I hated to admit that I was relieved when homeroom was over, and I saw him walk out among the other

students. He wasn't my problem for the rest of the day and if he didn't show up to any of his other classes, at least I could say that he was there for mine. That wasn't the way that I was supposed to feel about my students, and I knew it. It wasn't like this was the first time that a student had acted out in my class. This is only my first year of teaching, but I was dealing with teenagers and that age group was not exactly known as the most pleasant and cooperative of people. There have been others in my class who wanted to test their boundaries, to push me and see just how much the new teacher would tolerate. This is my chance to prove myself, to set the tone of the type of teacher that I was going to be for the rest of my career. I could either stand my ground and insist on respect and adherence to the school rules, or I could bend to the pressures of the students. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I was as stern as the gray-haired math

teacher who walked around with a metal ruler in her hand as if presenting a relic from the more daunting and violent days of public education, but I also refused to be pushed around or forced to be soft on students. My stance had brought those students that had bucked against me in the first week of class back under my control and now were actually some of my favorite students. As much as I would like to think that I was going to be that successful with any difficult student I came across, I wasn't as eager to try with Jason. He seemed like he was going to be a handful, and not just because he wanted to see how far he could stretch the boundaries. Instead, I saw something in him, something that made me want to reach out to him and to help him. It was that thing, that quality that I didn't yet understand that was making him the way that he was. I went home that night with a stack of assignments to grade. My students had acted like I

had committed a crime against humanity when I assigned a project to be completed over the course of the winter holidays, but I had been pleasantly surprised to see that everyone in the class had managed to turn theirs in on time. Whether they would all have any level of quality, however, was still yet to be seen. I dropped the stack of folders onto my sofa as I walked through the living room toward the kitchen. It wasn't usually my style to drink coffee in the evening, but I had a feeling that I was going to need it. The Reverend lifted his head to look at me from his bed on the floor and then dropped it down again, deciding that his nap and whatever dreams that were populating his little kitty head at that moment were much more important than listening to me talk about my day. I turned the coffee maker on and was reaching into the cabinet for my favorite double sized coffee mug when I caught sight of the trifle bowl sitting in the sink. I should have washed it the night before, but I

hadn't felt like going through the process. Instead, I had filled it with water and a squirt of dish liquid and convinced myself that it was soaking. Seeing the trifle dish now didn't bring to mind thoughts of my domestic failures. Instead, they made me think of Garrett's smile and the sound of his laugh. It had made me happier than it should have to hear that he enjoyed the dessert that I made, and I couldn't help but wonder if his lush lips would have tasted like the sweet trifle. I tucked my coffee mug into place and pressed the brew button before walking over to the sink and starting to clean out the dish. He said that he had enjoyed the trifle, and he had only gotten to have three little servings. Maybe I could just head over to the firehouse and make sure that he was getting settled in alright. The Reverend was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when I turned around. I paused and looked at him.

"It's the neighborly thing to do," I said. Two hours later, I stepped out of my bedroom with my hair freshly styled and my makeup reapplied, the skirt of the dress I was wearing swirling around my thighs. The cut was seasonally inappropriate, but I told myself that the dark blue color made it just fine for a winter night. I put the finishing touches on the fresh trifle that I had made and stretched plastic wrap over the top of it to protect it in the car. I caught a glimpse of The Reverend walking across the top of the sofa as I slipped into my jacket and I looked over at him before picking up the trifle. "Don't judge me," I said. I walked out of my house and got into the car to head to the firehouse. There weren't any cars in the front parking lot of the firehouse when I pulled in. I sat there in my car wondering if I should drive around to the

back lot to see if I could recognize Garrett's car from my jacket-stealing escapade. I realized that was entirely possible that he wasn't even in the firehouse that night. I had just assumed that the welcoming party had been a sort of official installment and that he would be on duty thereafter. It occurred to me, though, that even a fire chief would get time off and that maybe he hadn't even started yet. That would certainly make for an awkward entrance, but I'd already come out this far. I might as well go inside. I got out of my car and walked around to unhook the trifle from the seat belt that I had lovingly latched around it to keep it from sliding across the seat while I was driving. I walked up to the door of the firehouse and knocked. The truth was that I didn't really know the protocol for visiting a firehouse. I knew that I had gone on a field trip to this particular firehouse when I was in elementary school, but the firefighters had been

waiting outside for us when we arrived, and we were ushered through the station and out to the shiny red truck where we climbed and played for the majority of the trip. And to this day I wasn't completely sure of what it was that we were supposed to learn on that trip. I didn't hear any movement or sound from inside the firehouse, so I reached for the bell. I rang it and took a partial step back from the door. That movement was a remnant of the lessons that my mother taught me when I was younger. She put as much effort as she could into teaching me to be polite. One of the manners that she had emphasized was that when you approached a door, you stepped back so that whoever was inside could have a chance to see you through the peephole before opening it. I always felt like that it was an extremely judgmental approach. It was like I was stepping back and presenting myself for scrutiny so that the person inside could decide whether or not

they wanted to be bothered with me that day. Yet, here I was, standing a few feet back from the door and wondering if someone was inside the firehouse peeking through some unseen window or peephole, and sizing me up. I was tempted to turn around, scurry back across the parking lot, get into my car, go back home, and keep the entire trifle for myself, but before I could, I heard the locks releasing on the inside of the door. It opened, and I saw Garrett looking out at me. Any desire to go back home and gorge myself on trifle immediately melted away. Suddenly the only thing I wanted anywhere near my mouth was him. Garrett seemed to have the same thing on his mind. His eyes traveled up and down my body, grazed briefly over the trifle I held in front of me, then rose to my face and locked on mine. I saw his tongue slip out and run across his lips. My heart was beating faster, and I could hear the blood

rushing in my ears as my body woke up. "Hi there," he said. His voice was low and velvety, lacking the pop and spark that it had had when he was talking at the party the night before. Then he was addressing everybody, trying to draw them in. Now he was speaking only to me. I was all that mattered, and his voice made it abundantly clear that that was exactly how he wanted it to be. "Hello," I said. I held the trifle up a little higher. "I wanted to welcome you to Silver Lake now that I actually know who you are." "Oh, really?" he asked. "That's very friendly of you." He reached forward and tucked his fingers into the belt of my jacket, drawing me forward toward him. "Let me thank you." I have always been the type of woman who likes to feel in control like I know what's coming. I

always read the last page of a book before starting. In that moment, I knew exactly what was coming, but I felt far from in control. I let Garrett pull me through the door and into the firehouse. The small lobby was empty, the desk that sat against one wall deserted. We continued past the small collection of furniture that I couldn't imagine getting a tremendous amount of use and through a door that led into the section of the firehouse set aside just for the firefighters to use while they waited for the next call. In a community like Silver Lake, there were far more nights than not when that call never came, which accounted for how well-appointed this section of the house seemed to be. I vaguely remembered being brought through this part during the field trip, but it was more elaborate now, filled with enough furniture, game machines, and electronics to make it look more a bachelor's apartment and less a place where heroes waited for the next moment of adrenaline

and terror. He took the trifle from my hands and placed it on the table that sat in the middle of the room. As soon as the glass dish had left my grasp, I was in his arms. His mouth caught mine and I felt something inside me snap. Need and arousal rushed through me and I gave myself over to the kiss, pressing my body close to Garrett's and seeking his tongue with mine. Our tongues tangled, and my hands dug into the hair at the back of his neck. The heels I was wearing that night weren't as high as the ones I had been wearing the last time that we were together, so Garrett had to lean over further to touch his hands to my thighs. This crushed our bodies more tightly together and I could feel the hard, delicious nudging of his growing erection in my belly. His hands ran up the backs of my legs, lifting my skirt out of the way as he went until it pooled at my hips and his fingers caught the bottom swells of my ass.

Garrett's fingertips slithered between my thighs and pressed against the heat of my core. The panties I had put on were already damp and I knew that he could feel that I was already ready and waiting for him. He ran his fingers up the string of my thong and caught the strands at my hips. I lifted my legs in turn as he guided the panties down my thighs and soon they were kicked across the floor and forgotten. I felt Garrett's mouth leave mine and travel across my cheek to my ear. One hand had slid up my thigh and along the juncture between my leg and hip. I gasped at the unexpected sensitivity of that skin and parted my legs slightly to give him more access to my body. "Do you want to see my truck?" he asked in a husky whisper. I nodded, moaning as he moved his fingers down briefly to draw them through my petals and give one brief moment of pressure to my clit as if in

promise of more to come. He gave me another hard, intense kiss and then stepped away from me, taking my hand and guiding me through the rest of the station toward the bay where they kept the fire truck. "Where is everybody?" I asked breathlessly as we went. "Only me tonight," he said. "I think that it's some sort of initiation for the new guy. They all requested tonight off before I got here so that my first night would be completely by myself." "That seems mean." "No," he said, drawing me toward the truck and lifting me up so that I stood on the back, my hand wrapped around the ladder. "It's just guys being guys. They think it's funny. If something happened, they'd all be here to help." Garrett latched onto the handle beside me,

planting his foot next to mine, and swung up so that I was pressed to the back of the truck and he enveloped me. His mouth covered mine and I felt the cold of the metal side of the truck against my skin. He released the belt of my jacket and pushed the sides apart to reveal the dress underneath. He gave a groan of appreciation and ran his finger along the scooped neckline then along the center of my chest down to my stomach. I knew that he could feel it trembling. He looked at me with hunger in his eyes and dropped down from the step so that his face was level with my stomach. He pressed it against my body, nuzzling through my dress until I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. He nudged the fabric up with his forehead and nose until I felt my skirt sliding up my thighs and over my hips. The air touched my bare core and I shivered with the blend of chill and delicious excitement that rippled through me in response.

His tongue delved between my thighs and caught my sensitive tissues, exploring my curves and folds as he eagerly lapped up the juices that flowed out of me, encouraging me to open up to him, to ready for him further. There was nothing slow or gradual about this attention. This was an instant burn, a passion that threatened to consume us. He spent a few dizzying seconds licking me before he pulled away and disappeared back into the station. I rested my head back against the truck, trying to catch my breath, but in an instant, he was back and I saw him holding a condom in his mouth as he released the button of his pants and lowered his zipper. Garrett swung back up onto the truck with me and I felt his pants slide down to his ankles. The warmth of his skin radiated towards me and I pushed toward it, craving more of it, needing his touch. Garrett reached down and took my leg, lifting it up so that my foot was propped on the

ladder beside me. He pushed my skirt up and took a moment to look at me, his eyes eagerly taking in my vulnerable, exposed core, my aching need obvious. He took the condom from his mouth and opened it, settling it on the tip of his erection. As he rolled it down the length with one hand, he used the other to dip two fingers into me, ensuring that I was fully ready to accept him. I gasped as he pressed deeply inside me, the intensity of the pressure and sudden filling causing my knee to buckle. Garrett released his cock and grasped my face with his free hand, holding it pressed back against the truck so that he could kiss me again. His tongue coaxed my lips apart and plunged into my mouth, tangling with my tongue and exploring me deeply. I felt his cock nudging at my entrance, his fingers sliding out, and then he pushed inside me, his hand sliding down to the front of my throat to hold me against the truck. His other hand grasped my breast, kneading into it firmly as he immediately

started to thrust inside me. There was no hesitation in his movements and he stroked into me with an intensity that bordered on desperation. I met the urgency with the rocking of my hips and hungry kisses along Garrett's neck. The fact that we were still nearly dressed seemed to only make the situation more erotic and I could already feel myself rushing toward climax. I knew that at any moment one of the firefighters could show up at the firehouse to check on the new chief, or an alarm could sound, calling the team to an emergency. That only fueled me further and I let out a loud moan, realizing that I almost wanted someone outside to hear me. The sound seemed to push Garrett over the edge of what little control he had, and he let out a growl, reaching down to grab my hips with a grip so hard I could feel his fingertips digging into my skin. He slammed into me with dizzying strength and I closed my eyes, giving myself over completely to

the sensations that he was creating within me. I let out a scream as a sudden orgasm crashed over me. My body arched away from the truck and I released the ladder and handle so that I could cling to Garrett. He pushed forward with his body so that I was flattened against the truck again and grabbed the top of the truck overhead, using it for leverage so that he could pound into me with even greater fervor, finally forcing all the way into me and letting out a roar as I felt him throb. My spasms drew his cock deeper into my body, meeting each of his pulses so that I squeezed him, embracing him with my entire body. Finally, all the tension was gone from my body and I sagged against Garrett, feeling out of breath and giddy.

"What's that smile all about?" I looked up and saw one of my co-workers reaching for a paper cup beside the coffee maker in

the teachers’ lounge. I shook my head, trying to get the grin off my face, but knowing that it was futile. "I was just thinking about a show that I watched last night," I said. "It was really funny." She looked at me as though she didn't believe a single word that I said. "That's not the smile of someone who spent the evening watching comedy," she said. I looked at her with as much wide-eyed innocence as I could muster. "What do you mean?" I asked. "It was that show. You know the one. The one that everybody loves so much. The one with the family name and the husband and the wife and the kids and they're always getting into stuff and they don't really get along, but they do, and they have that neighbor." She stared at me.

"Mmmmm-hmmmmm," she said. "I appreciate that vague and completely non-specific description of approximately eighty percent of the TV shows that have ever come on. I'm sure that episode with the people doing the stuff and with the things that were funny was hilarious." I knew that I had been caught, but I wasn't about to give up my charade. I didn't really know her well enough to get into the details of my own personal grown-up field trip to the firehouse. Instead, I finished swirling my hazelnut creamer and sugar into my cup of coffee, smiled at her, and headed out of the lounge toward my classroom. Homeroom didn't start for another forty-five minutes, but I appreciated the quiet and calm of the new day. It gave me the opportunity to think about my plans for the day's classes and to figure out a way that I could explain that I hadn't even started grading the projects.

I had finished my coffee and was contemplating heading back to the lounge for another when the first few students came into the room. They grinned at me and I wondered if they could see the same giddiness on my face that the other teacher had. They all took their seats and I knew that my chances of grabbing another coffee or having a few more minutes to myself were over. One thing that I had learned during my time teaching was that you never left a classroom with teenagers in it without supervision. I watched the students come in and fill the desks. It didn't come as a surprise when one desk was left empty. "Has anyone seen Jason this morning?" I asked. The students looked around at each other, some of them looking as though they weren't even sure who I was talking about. I couldn't really blame them. He had only shown up for one

homeroom class and he hadn't spoken to anybody during it. Teenagers weren't exactly known for being particularly detail-oriented and if I were one of them I probably wouldn't even realize that he was there, either. I sighed and sat down behind my desk, jotting a note next to Jason's name on my roster. I could let it go that he had missed the first homeroom, but now I needed to start keeping track of each period that he missed or was late to, so I could report them to the front office when he reached the threshold allowed by the school. I hoped that it didn't come to that. I didn't want to be that person in his life. He was obviously struggling to cope with moving to a new town and starting at a new school in the middle of the year, and I didn't want to make it harder on him. Hopefully, he would straighten up soon and we could put the rocky beginning behind us. At the same time, if he didn't, I would have no choice but to do my job. Later that afternoon I was preparing for my

History class when I heard a ruckus out in the hallway. The desks in the classroom were still empty, except for one girl sitting in the back corner. She was always the first to arrive since her last class was in the room right next door and as she always, she was deeply engrossed in the thick book opened on her desk in front of her. I figured that since it was just her and I was just going to be right outside of the room it was safe to leave her, and I rushed in the direction of the growing noise. The hallway was congested with students and many of them went scurrying when they saw me approaching. The rest tightened their formation in the center of the hallway, closing around the point of their focus. It was something I had seen before and I knew exactly what was happening. I stalked up to the knot of students, demanding they move out of my way. Enough of them did to grant me access to the two girls locked in apparent mortal combat on the floor.

I ignored all of the strictly-given instructions about never making physical contact with any of the students and reached down to grab the girl on top by the back of her jacket. I hauled her up from the floor shouting at both of them to stop. They continued to flail at each other for several seconds until I was able to totally disentangle them and push the girl in my hand behind me. These kids never fucking cease to amaze me. When did girls turn into such monsters? They were always bitches when I was younger, but I never felt like they were going to throw down like the testosterone-fueled guys. "What's wrong with the two of you?" I shouted. Some of the students that had gathered around to watch the fight snickered and I turned my glare toward them. "And what do you think you're doing?" I

snapped at them. "Did you buy a pay-per-view ticket? I don't think so. Get to class." The group scattered and the girl that had been lying on the ground tried to join them, but I stopped her. "Where do you think you're going?" "To class, like you said." "No. Not the two of you. You'll be going to the office to explain to Mrs. Applegate how you could confuse the Humanities hallway with an octagon." As I swiftly led the girls through the hallway and to the office, I called over my shoulder to a teacher's aide to watch my class for me. Then I turned back to the girls. "What was this all about anyway?" "She was looking at my boyfriend," one

seethed. I paused, waiting for the rest of the story that I was positive had to be coming. It didn't come. I blinked a few times. "That's it?" "Yes." "Are you serious?" I looked between the two of them incredulously. "You've got to be fricking kidding me. Are you married? Did she fling herself on him naked?" "No." "No. How long have you and your boyfriend been together?" "Six months." "Which is clearly enough of a commitment to threaten your physical safety and get yourself kicked out of school for."

Both girls fell silent and sulked the rest of the way to the office and until I plopped them into the chairs in the vice principal's office. I gave Mrs. Applegate a brief rundown of what I had witnessed in the hallway and then raced back down the hall toward my classroom, feeling like I had just established the type of teacher I was going to be. The satisfaction that I felt disappeared quickly when I turned down the hall and heard voices coming from the direction of my classroom. I was heading toward it when I saw the teacher's aide step out of another classroom. "What are you doing?" I asked. She pulled her water bottle away from her mouth and looked at me with widened eyes. "Drinking water," she said. "You are supposed to be keeping an eye on my class," I said.

"I thought that you just meant you wanted me to look in on them," she said. "No," I said. "I meant that I wanted you to keep an eye on them. I had to bring the two girls who were fighting to the office." The college student looked like she was trying to come up with something to say, but I didn't give her a chance to finish. I walked into the classroom and found it in utter chaos. Students were sitting on the desks, one couple was in the corner groping each other, and a paper airplane zipped by my face nearly clipping my nose. All it needed was a choreographed dance sequence and it would be a bad 80's teen movie. I stomped to the front of the classroom and shouted over their voices to get their attention. "Really?" I asked. Most of the students in the classroom had the decency to at least look embarrassed at their

behavior, but my eyes fell on a particular face that looked far more smug than it did remorseful. "Do you have a hall pass?" Jason asked. "Excuse me?" I asked. "Well," he said. "It seems to me that you're tardy to class. Do you have a hall pass to excuse you?" He was slumped down in his desk chair, his arms rested on the pressed wood surface in front of him. I glared at him but didn't say anything. The last thing I was going to do was feed into his attitude. I walked over to my desk and picked up the notebook that held my lesson plans. "Get out your textbooks and open them to chapter five. I want all the review questions for chapters five through seven completed and turned in by the end of class. No talking. No sharing notes. No sharing textbooks. This will count as a quiz

score toward your final grade." The room fell silent and I dropped down into my chair by my desk. I opened the drawer and looked in at my cell phone. I knew that I wasn't supposed to be using it during school hours, but the drama of how the afternoon was unfolding had ruined my good mood and I wanted to get it back. I reached in and scrolled through my contacts until I found Garrett's number. He had programmed it in the night before and I clicked on it now, pulling up a blank text message. I stared at the screen, trying to come up with what I should say. Memories from the night before rushed back into my mind and I squirmed slightly in my seat, crossing my legs against the throbbing between my thighs that began as I imagined Garrett’s mouth on my skin and my body stretching to accommodate him. Finally, I typed 'hi' and sent it. My cheeks burned, and I closed the drawer quickly.

The bell indicating the end of class finally rang and my students streamed past my desk to drop their papers. Jason was the last to approach and I looked up at him as he lowered his partially filled paper to the stack. "Why didn't you finish"? I asked. "Because I didn't," he said. I let out a sigh. "Look, Jason," I said. "I don't know what problem you have with me, but it ends now. You need to report back here at the end of the day." "Why?" he asked. "For detention," I said. "Detention?" he asked. "For what?" "For your attitude, rudeness, and disrespect. And because you didn't finish your assignment. You'll come here after school and finish your work,

and we'll talk about your future conduct in my class." "I can't." "What do you mean?" "I can't come here after school today." "It wasn't a request, Jason. You have detention today." "I can't come here after school today," he repeated. "There's a workout with the baseball team. Tryouts are next week." "I don't think that's my problem." "I have to be there to work out with the team." "Is it a mandatory workout?" "No, but I'm new and the coach doesn't know me. I need to show him that I'm serious and get in

front of him as much as I can before tryouts." "Well, I'm sorry, Jason. Maybe you should have thought about the importance of the baseball team before you acted out the way that you did." The truth was that I actually did feel sorry. I could see how important the team was to him, but that didn't change the way that he had acted or the fact that he hadn't finished his work. As he had said, the workout wasn't mandatory. I couldn't imagine that missing one workout was going to hurt his chances. Besides, he was in school for an education, not to play baseball. It was much more important for him to get good grades and he wasn't going to do that if he kept going down the path that he was on now. I was determined that I wasn't going to be the one who let him fall through the cracks. I wasn't going to be the teacher that just gave up on him or turned my back on him, expecting that he was already a lost cause and there

was no point in putting forth the energy or the effort to help him. I was going to stop his downward spiral now. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry about the crack about the hall pass." "I appreciate that. But that's not enough to just make the situation go away. You had ample time to finish this assignment during class. In fact, you are the only one in class who appears to not have finished, and that's not acceptable. Come here at the end of the day, get it done, and we'll start with a fresh slate tomorrow." I looked down at my desk and started grading the first of the papers, putting an end to the conversation. Jason let out an exasperated sound and stomped out of the classroom. In the brief moment of silence between those students leaving and the next coming in, I heard the buzz from inside my drawer that indicated I had gotten a text

message. I opened the drawer and peeked in. "Hi," the message said. "The boys say thank you for the trifle. They wish that they were here last night." Well, I'm certainly glad they weren't. Two hours later I sat at the desk, waiting for Jason to show up after his last class of the day. Half an hour after that I was fairly certain that he wasn't going to show up. Ten minutes after that, I was pissed.

Chapter Seven

Garrett

I was staring into the Chinese takeout container I was holding, contemplating life and its direction as it may be told by the remaining Lo Mein noodles in the bottom of the box when my phone rang. Jason was chewing his way through what seemed like his twentieth egg roll, and he didn't pause when he reached for my phone where it sat on the table beside him. He grabbed it and handed it to me, where I sat, on the floor across from him. The dining room table was still covered with boxes and I told myself that I was going to have to spend my first day off unpacking. I wasn't looking forward to that, but it was better than the prospect of spending all of my meals at home sitting on the floor.

"Hello?" I said into the phone. "Mr. Allen?" "Yes," I said. "This is Mr. Jefferson, from the high school." "Oh, yes, Mr. Jefferson. How are you?" "I'm doing all right," he said. "The wife is especially making meatloaf for this evening, and that's one of my favorites, so I'm looking forward to getting home. She has one of her shows on tonight, so I'll probably be spending most of my time in my study getting through some of those books I always say I'm going to finish." I nodded as I finished another bite of my food. "That sounds good," I said. "What can I do for you this evening?" "Oh," the principal said as if he had forgotten

why he had called me in the first place. "I'm calling about your son." "Jason?" I asked. I wasn't sure why I asked that. He was my only son. "Unfortunately, yes. His teacher, Miss Martin, tells me that he did not report for his detention this afternoon." "Detention?" I asked. "Why did he get detention?" "She didn't share that information with me," Mr. Jefferson said. "She came into my office this afternoon to report that she had told Jason to stay after school with her to discuss a behavioral issue that he had today, and to complete an assignment that he failed to turn in, but he didn't come." "I'm sorry about that," I said. "I'll have a talk with him."

"Please do that," the principal said. "He is facing more serious disciplinary action if this can't be handled." "Don't worry," I said. "I will make sure that it's handled. Thank you for calling me. Enjoy your meatloaf." "Thank you. Have a good night." I ended the call and glared at Jason. He looked back at me with an expression that told me that he knew exactly why I had received that call. He let out a dramatic sigh and set his takeout container down in front of him. "I couldn't go," he said before I even had the chance to tell him about the call. "Jason, he said you had detention. You can't just not go to a detention." "I had to, Dad. There was a workout this afternoon with the baseball team."

"You skipped detention with one of your teachers so that you could go run laps around a baseball field?" I asked. "You make it sound like it doesn't matter," he said. "That's not what I'm saying, Jason. I do know how important baseball is, but I also know how important school is." Jason rolled his eyes. "I didn't say that school wasn't important, Dad. But I had to go to the workout this afternoon. The team is really, really good and if I want any chance at all of getting on to it before this spring I need to show 100% dedication and commitment to the team. Not showing up for a workout would look like I just didn't care or like I thought that I was going to get some sort of special treatment because of you."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "A couple of the guys on the team were saying that I better not get on the team just because you're the new fire chief. I wanted to make sure that I earned my way onto the team. I want to be in the best shape that I can be, and I want to show how dedicated I am, even if all these workouts aren't mandatory." I had to admit that I was impressed by my son. I'd been angry when the principal said that he hadn't shown up to his detention, expecting that Jason had just decided that he didn't need to go because he didn't feel like it. Now that I heard how earnest he was in his explanation of why he didn't go to the detention, though, I was more frustrated at the principal. It was obvious that this was extenuating circumstances and they should have been able to be more flexible with him. "Did you tell your teacher that you needed to

go to baseball practice this afternoon?" I asked. "I did," he said, nodding. "I told her that I was trying out for the team and that I needed to go to the workout." "Why did she give you a detention in the first place?" "She didn't like my attitude and I didn't get an assignment done that she gave us during class. I even apologized for the way that I talked to her, but it didn't matter." "You apologized to her? And she still wouldn't reschedule or just let it go?" "No." Jason looked dejected and any frustration and anger that I had felt toward him was now directed at this teacher. "What's this woman like?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Pretty miserable, I guess. She's old and dowdy and always in a really bitchy mood. If I had to make a guess, I would say that she probably doesn't get a whole lot of male attention." "Jason," I scolded. He shrugged and reached for his food again. "It's the truth," he said. "I'm just saying it as I see it. I think if she got a little bit more companionship she would probably be nicer, and the school would be a better place." I stared at my son and realized with a sinking feeling in my belly that this was my doing. His perceptions about women and his willingness to be so callous and disrespectful were my fault. He had been shaped by watching the end of my marriage to his mother and how I had handled any other interaction with women since then. I watched Jason

continue to eat, unfazed by the bitterness that he had just expressed about his teacher. My mind went to the moments that had created this in him and what had given him these perceptions.

Ten years earlier…

I'd never driven so fast through the base. I had never broken any of those posted rules or done anything that might threaten my position. Being in the military had been the only thing that had saved my young family, that had saved me, and I didn't want to do anything that might threaten the future that it held for me. That night, though, the only thing that was on my mind was the words of the man in the mess hall. I had heard him mutter my wife's name and it brought my attention to the conversation he was having at the table beside me. I hated the nights when I was on duty and wasn't

able to be at home to have dinner with Valerie and Jason. There were many days when I was up and out of the house before my young son was awake for the day, and by the time I got back, he was already in bed for the night. The times when I was able to be home and have dinner with them were cherished. They were the times when I was able to spend time with Jason and actually be a part of his nighttime routine. It was rare, however, and there were more nights than not when I had to work and wasn't able to be there for him. This was one of those nights but hearing what the man had said about Valerie had taken all of my attention away from my duties for the night. I had my suspicions. I couldn't help but notice the way that her personality had changed, and the odd things about our home over the last few months. I had come home several times to a stripped bed and sheets that were in the washing machine. A few times I had found more than one

glass in the sink, or a cigarette butt outside when she wasn't a smoker. Valerie had always been able to explain those things away. Jason had an accident and wet the bed. They had been watching a movie together and he spilled his juice. Some of the other wives had come over for a drink and had stepped outside to have a smoke. I accepted every excuse that she gave me. I felt like I didn't really have another option. If I didn't accept what she said and convinced myself that each one of them was plausible, it would force me to deal with the reality that I knew was there. It would force me to come to terms with what I had already figured out was happening. Hearing the man at dinner repeating what he had heard about my wife's skill in the bedroom was too much. I couldn't get past that. I couldn't pretend that I didn't hear it or that maybe he was talking about somebody else. There were too many details, details that nobody else should know about her. I

did something that night that I’d never done before and approached my superior to say that I was sick so that I could go home. I couldn't wait several more hours to confront her. My suspicions, and the anger behind them had been building up for so long that I felt as though I might explode if I didn't get a chance to talk to her about them. Despite that, there was a part of me that was trying to talk myself out of my suspicions as I drove through the base back towards our house. There was a voice in the back of my mind that was trying to call me down, trying to tell me that I needed to turn back around and go back to work. That voice told me that rumors were just that. Rumors. It didn't mean that they were true, and it didn't mean anything more than that the men around me were vulgar and inappropriate. That voice was trying to protect me. It was trying to convince me that I hadn't given up my life and my future for a woman who would do this to me. I hadn't sacrificed everything to get

married far too young and join the military when I had never had any intention of serving before, so that I could take care of her and our child, just to be disrespected and humiliated like this. I already knew that that voice was full of shit by the time I got home. There was a car sitting in front of our house that shouldn't have been there. I knew exactly who it belonged to because I had seen it sitting there countless times before. It had taken up that spot. It had sat there in front of my house many nights, but every time it had been there, I had been in the house. That was because that car belonged to my best friend. I pulled up behind Patrick's car, and I was out of my seat belt before I had even turned off the engine. The sound of the car door slamming was explosive in the still air and I knew that inside the house they could hear it. They knew that I was coming. But I didn't care. I wanted them to know

that I was there. I wanted them to feel their stomachs turn and their hearts drop. They hadn't even bothered to lock the front door. I stormed into the house and the first thing that I saw was my tiny son sitting in the middle of the living room floor, staring at the TV. He was wearing nothing but the little superhero underwear that he had just graduated into from his diapers. In front of him was a paper plate, Cheerios overflowing onto the carpet. He was picking each up with his little chubby fingers and putting them in his mouth as his eyes eagerly took in the cartoon playing out on the screen in front of him. He jumped slightly when I came into the house and looked up at me. His eyes were wide, but then they narrowed as his mouth curved up into a smile. "Hi, Daddy," he said. "Hi, buddy," I said. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

He shook his head. "I'm watching cartoons," he said. He said it with the same seriousness as someone would report that they were in an important business meeting and I nodded in agreement. "Where's your mama?" I asked. "Playing games in the bedroom," he said. I felt the color drain out of my face. "What do you mean?" "She's playing Monopoly," he told me. I knew that he didn't know what Monopoly was. I didn't even think that we owned a Monopoly board. I patted him on the head and leaned down to kiss his soft hair. Just then I heard a door open in the back of the house and I stomped toward it. I turned the corner into the hallway just in time to

see Valerie and Patrick coming out of the bedroom. Patrick was still buttoning the buttons on his cuffs and Valerie's hair was tousled. I felt like I had swallowed a molten rock. My body started shaking and spots danced in front of my eyes. "Garrett," Valerie started. I held up a hand, wanting to stop her, not wanting to hear another word come out of her mouth. If I could have had my way, I never would have heard her voice again. "How could you?" I asked. I was struggling to keep myself as calm as possible. I was very aware of my son in the front room and I didn't want him to hear the screaming that was bubbling up inside me. I fought to control myself, but I could feel that control cracking even as I stood there and stared at them. Patrick and Valerie exchanged glances as if each thought that the other would somehow have something to say

that would make the whole situation better. "It isn't what it looks like," Patrick finally said. "Seriously? That's the best you could come up with?" I asked. "I expected more from you." "What do you mean?" Valerie asked. "Don't play dumb," I said. "It didn't work for you in high school and it's not going to work now." "Actually," Valerie said, "it seemed to work very well for me in high school." I felt heat creeping up the back of my neck and my fist clenching beside me. "You think it worked out for you because I knocked you up and had to marry you?" "That's all you think of me, isn't it?" she asked.

I couldn't believe the indignant reaction on her face. It was almost laughable. "Are you seriously going to stand there, still smelling like sex and act like you're the one who's been so offended?" I asked. "You're enough of a slut to fuck my best friend while I'm at work and my son is sitting in the living room watching cartoons and you have the nerve to act like you're some sort of innocent little girl who I led astray?" "Don't you talk about her like that," Patrick said, taking a step toward me. "I can talk about her any way that I want to," I said. "This is my house. She's my wife. Not that that matters to you at all." "Don't blame him," Valerie said. "It's not his fault." "Oh, really?" I asked. "Did someone drag him over here and shove his cock inside you?"

"You don't have to be so disgusting," she said. I let out a mirthless laugh. "Yes, because I'm the disgusting one in this situation." "That's it," Patrick said. "I've had enough of your mouth." "Aw, I wish that you had said that to Valerie about twenty minutes ago. That could have saved us all a lot of shit." Patrick surged toward me before I had a chance to process what was happening. He smashed into me and I hit the ground, quickly regaining control and flipping him over onto his back. Valerie screamed as my fist made contact with Patrick's face and he returned the blow. He bucked against me and I landed on my side beside him. We both scrambled to our feet and continued

to tangle. I could taste blood on my lips and felt the skin on my knuckles burning where it had split over the bones. The sound of Valerie screaming and Jason crying in the background blurred, but it was my son shouting for me that brought clarity to my mind and finally took me away from pummeling Patrick. I stood and backed away from him, realizing for the first time that we had made it all the way into the living room. Awareness of what was happening settled over me. I could hear my own breath in my ears, each hard draw accented by the sobs of my son. There was blood on the carpet. Tears flowed down Valerie's face. Her hand was wrapped around Patrick's arm. "Get out," I said. My voice was low again. Calm and controlled. The emotion gone. "What?" Valerie asked.

"Get out. Leave your rings here. You don't need them anymore." I expected her to say something. Anything. But she remained silent as she took the rings from her hand and dropped them to the carpet at her feet. She walked back into the bedroom with Patrick at her heels and returned a few moments later carrying a bag. She didn't pause to say goodbye to Jason before she left. As soon as the door closed behind her, I dropped to my knees. My son ran into my arms and I cradled him to me, rocking him until I didn't feel the tears on my neck anymore. I wouldn't say it, but I knew that it would be like that moving forward. Just us.

Present day…

That day had completely changed the way

that I thought about women and relationships. I knew that my son now shared those perceptions, and while I hated to think about why, I didn't necessarily think it was a bad thing. I knew very well that day wasn't the only bad day in my marriage. It was a culmination of months of arguments, and I knew that he had witnessed too many of them. Even at his young age, he knew that there was something that was happening between the two of us, and he knew that even though I had been the one to tell Valerie to leave, it had been his mother's choice to walk out of the house without him. I couldn't expect that it wouldn't influence him. I couldn't expect that his perceptions of women and relationships would not be molded by having watched his mother cheat on his father, and then being abandoned by her. It was only natural that this would lead him to be distrusting and even somewhat critical of women. I could only hope that having witnessed that, I encouraged him to better

protect himself and not get into the situation that I had. "You know that you should be more respectful of her," I said. "Regardless of what you think about her, she is your teacher." "I know," he said. “I told you I tried to apologize." "Did you actually try to apologize, or did you say you were sorry so that you could try to get out of the detention?" He shrugged. "Does it really matter? I said that I was sorry." I nodded. "Well, I would rather think that you actually did feel bad for being disrespectful to her." "I do, Dad. But I kind of feel like she

deserved it. She's been on me since my first day. It's not like I said that I just refused to go to a detention. I had a perfectly good reason." "All right," I said. "I'll call the principal back in the morning and explain the situation to him. I'll tell him that I think that the teacher needs to have a little bit of flexibility and give you some wiggle room considering that you are new and trying to get involved in the school. I'll tell him that you and I had a talk and that I've handled the situation, but that I think that it's very important that you are given the opportunity to participate in the baseball team as much as possible and request that nothing be done that will compromise that participation. I'm sure he'll understand and defuse the situation with this Miss Martin." Jason nodded. "Thanks, Dad. I'm going to go to my bedroom and do some homework."

"Sure," I said. He got up and walked out of the room. I started cleaning up the remnants of dinner. I remembered what he had said about the other guys on the baseball team saying that he was only going to get a spot because I was the fire chief. I knew that wasn't the case. Jason was talented and would be able to get a spot regardless of who he was. I knew, though, that if he thought that he was getting any kind of special treatment because of who I was, it would only backfire. I put everything in the kitchen and then decided I would try to fit a couple of hours of straightening up the house into the evening. I was going through boxes and chastising myself for the truly nonsensical way that many of them had been packed and labeled when I realized that more than two hours had passed, and I hadn't heard from Jason again. I grabbed one of the fortune cookies

that had come with our dinner and walked down the hall to his bedroom. I knocked on the door. "Hey, buddy. I was just checking on you. Want to see what type of mystical amazement your future holds? I have an enchanted pastry that will tell you." There's nothing but silence from the other side of the door. I turn the knob and opened it, immediately realizing that the room was empty. His window was standing open, the curtains fluttering slightly as if to underscore the predictability of the situation. I sighed and mumbled a few creative obscenities before heading to put my shoes on. One good thing about living in a town as small as Silver Lake was that it didn't take long to find someone when they wandered off. Especially when that someone was a teenager who couldn't drive and didn't know but so many people. That meant it took less than an hour to find Jason behind

an old abandoned grocery store, sitting on the cold pavement with his back against the bricks and a paper-wrapped bottle in his hand. It was a scene that looked all too familiar. It wasn't that particular store or that particular parking lot, but it was playing out just the same. It was the same early antics that I had gotten into. I pulled up in front of him and climbed out of the car. "Jason, what the hell do you think you're doing?" "It's okay Dad. It's in a bag." His voice was distinctly slurred, and he hadn't bothered to stand up. "It's not public decency laws that I'm concerned about right now. You're not allowed to drink when your sixteen no matter how much you cover up the label." Of the three other guys who had been in the

alley with Jason when I arrived, only one of them had stuck around and I looked over at him. "Who are you?" I asked. "Marvin," he said. "Well, Marvin, were you aware that Jason here won't be allowed to legally drink for another five years?" "No sir." "And how many years will it be until you are allowed to legally drink, Marvin?" He looked at me for a few seconds, his eyes widening as though doing the math was just too much strain for a brain that was currently floating around in cheap beer. "A few," he said. "I'll tell you what," I said. "Since you had the balls to wait here with Jason, I'm not going to say

anything to your parents or anyone else. But keep in mind that as the new fire chief in town, I have connections. I don't want to find you back behind this store, or any other store for that matter, again. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He looked at Jason who seemed to be trying to climb to his feet. "Night, man," Jason said. Marvin took off down the alley and I reached down to grab my son's arm and pull him to his feet. "I seriously can't believe you," I said. "We have that whole conversation about how important your opportunities are and how you're going to show more respect and then you sneak out of the damn house to come out here and drink. "

I was fuming as I pushed Jason into the passenger seat and slammed the door. I didn't say anything else to him as I drove us back to the house. When we got back in, he turned and looked at me. "I'm sorry, Dad." "I don't want to hear it, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you? I uprooted our entire lives to come out here and try to give you a chance, and the thanks I get is that we are in town for less than a week and I'm already getting calls from your school and finding you drunk in an alley. You were getting into so much trouble in our old town that I just knew that by the time you were eighteen you would be in jail or worse." "You mean worse like I could be a father?" I wanted to be mad at him, but there wasn't any anger in his voice. Instead, he sounded sad. I took a breath, trying to let all the stress and tension

out of me before I spoke again. "Jason, you know that's not what I mean. I got into all of this same shit and even more when I was your age, and I've seen the type of damage that it could cause. You saved me. I'm alive because you came along. But I don't want that to be the same for you. I brought us out here so that we could try to start a new life away from all of that." "I'll try, Dad." "I know you will." "Are you still going to call the principal for me tomorrow?" He suddenly sounded like a little boy and I let out a sigh. "Yes, I'm still going to call the principal for you tomorrow." He smiled.

"Thanks." "It's time for bed. And you better be there when I check on you." "I will be." Jason went down the hallway into his bedroom and I waited until I saw the light coming from under his door turn off before I went and took a shower. I lay in bed half an hour later, my fingers flipping my phone over and over on top of the blanket beside me. I wanted to call Gwendolyn. I couldn't get her off my mind and the unexpected message that I got from her earlier in the day had only made me want her more. There was something incredible about her and I couldn't seem to get enough of her. I couldn't wait to see her again, and yet there was something inside me that was hesitating. I knew that the way that I had handled every relationship in Jason's life had molded his distrust of women and the negative perceptions that

he seemed to have of them. So, what did it mean that I didn't feel any of those things when I thought about Gwendolyn?

Chapter Eight

Gwendolyn

The next morning, I stopped by the coffee shop on the way to work to treat myself to a fancy drink that I could barely pronounce but that made me feel like an adult when I sipped it. I was taking one of those ultra-heated foamy sips as I walked toward my classroom when I heard Mr. Jefferson calling my name. I turned around to look at him and saw him gesture for me to follow him. He looked uncharacteristically serious and I felt a sense of dread that even the fancy coffee couldn't fix. We walked in silence toward the office and he closed the door before gesturing for me to take my seat across from his desk.

Was this it? Was I about to get fired? What could I have done that would justify me not even getting through a whole year of teaching? I sat down and settled my bags at my feet. I thought about putting my coffee down with them but figured that if I needed to make a dramatic and indignant exit it would be better if I didn't kick the cup over and send the coffee splashing across the carpet. Instead, I held it in my lap, cupping it between my suddenly cold palms as Mr. Jefferson walked around the desk and took his place in his chair. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and let out a long breath. There was a strange silence and I briefly thought that he might have forgotten why he brought me into the office and now thought that I had come in for a visit. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time that that had happened. I was starting to tell him that I needed to get to homeroom when he opened his mouth to speak.

"You came to me yesterday and told me about a problem that you are having with a student," he said. "Yes, Jason Baxter." "He didn't come for his detention yesterday afternoon." Thank you for the recap. "I had given him the detention because of a behavioral problem and because he failed to complete an assignment that I had given the rest of the class during the allotted time. He never showed up yesterday afternoon." "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention and I wanted to let you know that I have been in contact with his father and we discussed the situation." "Thank you," I said, feeling relieved. "I really appreciate…"

"We've agreed to let the situation go and move forward." I blinked. I couldn't possibly have heard what I thought I just did. "Excuse me?" I asked. "I discussed the situation with him and he told me that there were apparently extenuating circumstances that were at play." "If you want to describe a non-mandatory work out for the baseball team as extenuating circumstances," I said. "Apparently that practice is very important, and I agreed that we need to give our new students encouragement and space to grow and participating in school programs such as sports teams is a good way to make them feel involved and welcomed." It sounded as though he were reciting something that was written in a brochure about the

school. I stared at him for a few more seconds, trying to process what he was telling me. "So, what you're saying is that even though I am his teacher and I decided that it was appropriate for him to have a detention after school, nothing is going to be done. He is going to get away with the way that he talks to me and not doing the work that was expected of him." "I must say, Gwendolyn, I am disappointed by your reaction." "Disappointed?" "Yes. When you first came to work here I was looking forward to having a fresh, young, new teacher who would be able to engage with our students and connect with them on a more personal level than some of our more experienced instructors. I would hope that that would extend to new students who may be having difficulty settling in and who only want to expand their horizons and

broaden the opportunities that they have for their future." More from the Silver Lake High brochure. "With all due respect, Mr. Jefferson, I believe that the most important part of being a teacher is holding students accountable and helping them to understand the importance of living up to the responsibilities that they have. I can appreciate that he wants to be on the baseball team and that attending the workout would look good to the coach, but what about his dedication to his actual classes?" "I understand that this is upsetting you, Gwendolyn, but the matter is settled. I hope that you can see that this is in the best interest of everybody involved. Now you can have a fresh start. I'm sure that Jason will come back to class with greater enthusiasm and more commitment to being a good student."

I walked out of the office still furious. I couldn't believe that the principal would override my decision like that and release Jason from his punishment without at least consulting me. Nothing that the principal had said had made any sense to me. I didn't care that Jason was new. There were two other new students in another grade who had started within a day or two of Jason, and I didn't see them getting any special treatment. I knew that there wasn't really anything that I could do about it, though. I wanted to help Jason. I wanted to figure out what it was that was making him act out the way that he was and be the influence that guided him through it. But I was at the mercy of Mr. Jefferson. He was the head of the school and if he decided that the situation didn't warrant intervention, I couldn't go against him. I would just have to hope that he was right about Jason having a change of heart and that I would be able to reach out to him in a different way.

I thought about Garrett as I wove my way through the crowd of students filling the hallways as they made their way to their first class after homeroom. The stress and tension that I was feeling made me want to visit him even more. I had learned that he was very good at distracting me and easing any stress that I was feeling. I wondered if I could sneak out and visit him again, but I knew that it wouldn't be as soon as I wanted to. I already had plans for that evening. It was my bi-weekly standing date with several of the other teachers from the school. Some of them I knew from before I started teaching and others I had met in my first days at the high school. We started meeting every other week to go to a local bar for drinks and gossip in my first week of teaching and had kept up with it since. It was an opportunity for us to say all the things about other teachers, students, and parents that we would never dare say in the hallowed halls of the high school, but that we could later blame on

whatever cocktail we had been drinking. It was the promise of that gathering that got me through the rest of the day, but I was still brooding about the situation when I arrived at the bar that evening. "What's with the face?" Sarah asked as I approached the table and slid into the booth beside her. "Hello to you too," I said. "Wow," Elise, another teacher from the school, said. "Someone is in a truly delightful mood this evening." I sighed. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just had kind of a rough day. I have this new student and he's driving me up a wall." "And why is that?" Sarah asked. I gave them the rundown of everything that

had happened since Jason's first day in class, occasionally backtracking to fill in the other teachers as they arrived. I kept his name out of my rant. Somehow, I wanted to protect him. Even after everything, I still felt a strong sense of compassion and responsibility toward him, and I didn't want the teachers forming any type of opinions about him based only on me. When I was finished I looked into the faces of each of my colleagues, waiting for their responses. "It sounds to me like he's just having a really hard time getting used to being in a new place," Elise said. "Do you know how far he moved?" Laura asked. I shook my head. "I really don't know much about him. I haven't had the chance to actually talk to him."

"Well, maybe you should. I have a new student in my class, too. He started a few weeks before Christmas break, but he had a rough start, too. He didn't want anything to do with the town, the school, or me. He was outright nasty to me and raised holy hell with some of the other students." "What did you do about it?" I asked. "I kept him after school for a couple of detentions and then I started doing lunch detention with him. During those is when we really started talking. That's when I found out that he was going through some pretty tough things at home. He was being raised by his grandparents along with six siblings and was having to work before and after school just to help support all of them. He's been much better since we talked." Hearing that made me feel terrible about the way I had been thinking about Jason. "When you gave him detention, did Mr.

Jefferson ever step in and cancel the detention? Or tell you what you were supposed to do to handle the situation?" Laura shook her head. "No," she said. “He never got involved.” I sighed. And somehow now I felt even worse. I also felt jipped. I had come out tonight for the promise of being able to throw some shade and hear about the juicy, sometimes dirty details of the lives of my much more interesting colleagues. Instead, I felt like it had turned into a group therapy session and I just wasn't up for that. Elise apparently saw the expression on my face and she straightened her back, lifting her cocktail into the air and looking into each of our faces. "I proclaim that all discussions about students and the somewhat depressing effect that

they can have on our lives over and done with for this evening. Tomorrow we can all go back to being the caring mentors and role models we all hope to be, but for tonight all conversation will be interesting and preferably inappropriate in nature." We laughed and lifted our drinks toward hers. "Here, here!" A couple of the teachers said enthusiastically. "So, what did everybody do for New Year's?" Laura asked. "Well, we all know that Gwendolyn had a hot date with Mr. Chili Beans," Elise said. I gasped in mock horror. "His name is The Reverend Holy Frijole," I corrected. "Show some respect." "I'm sorry. So, are you saying that you didn't

share a magical evening with your cat and you actually rang in the New Year with a real-live human?" I hesitated, and the other women laughed. I didn't find the whole thing quite as rip-roaringly hilarious as they seemed to, but finally, they stopped laughing and Sarah wrapped her arm encouragingly around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze. "Alright," she said. "Enough teasing. We love our sweet little Gwendolyn and I, for one, think that it's much better to ring in the New Year with a handsome, loving man like Frijole than by having anonymous sex with a partner of dubious origin." "Is it possible to have anonymous sex with a partner of distinct origin?" Elise asked. I picked up my drink and took a sip, wanting to cover the curve of my lips. Apparently, I didn't sip fast enough, however, because Laura's eyes

locked on my face "Is that a smile I see?" she asked. "Is there something you aren't telling us, Gwendolyn?" What would they think if they knew that the sweet, unlucky-in-love member of their group had not only had insanely hot anonymous sex but that it had segued into another passionate encounter with the gorgeous new fire chief? I knew that I couldn't tell them. I couldn't put Garrett's reputation at risk. Beyond that, though, I liked keeping him a secret. I liked the thrill of it, the elevated scandal that came from going about my normal life not letting on that I was delving into purely physical, irresistible pleasures. It was like wearing a simple dress with no panties underneath. Oh, shit. Panties. I had left my panties at the firehouse the night I went to see Garrett. How could I have

walked out of there bare-assed and not noticed until now? I couldn't stop thinking about it throughout the rest of the evening and by the time that I bowed out of the possibility of a karaoke night breaking out among the teachers, my hand was already on my phone. I started dialing Garrett before I even closed my car door. "Hello?" "Where are my panties?" "Oh, so we've moved beyond texting now, have we?" "Yes. This seemed like more of a phone call type situation. Where are my panties?" "I would think that you are wearing them." "Not those panties." "In your dresser, perhaps? Unless you are a lingerie chest type of woman."

There was a hint of playfulness in his voice, adding some lightness to its velvety tone. "Look, Mr. Fire Chief, you know exactly what I'm talking about." "Do I? I'm sorry. I must be distracted by all the silence in this empty firehouse." I hung up and tossed the phone to the seat beside me, turning at the nearest street and heading back in the other direction toward the firehouse. The single cocktail that I had had wasn't enough to affect me, yet I felt my mind swimming. I knew that it was thoughts of Garrett and the anticipation of getting to the firehouse. When I did, I walked up to the door and knocked on it just as I had the first time that I visited. It didn't take long this time for me to hear footsteps approaching the door and the locks releasing. The door opened, and I saw Garrett step back, one hand held up and my flimsy black thong dangling from his finger.

"Are these what you were looking for?" he asked. "Are you starting a collection?" I asked. He shook his head as I stepped into the firehouse and closed the door behind me. "I'd have to have at least two pairs for it to be a collection," he said. "Mmmm --- then I guess I'll just be taking those back." Garrett looked at the panties in his hand and then shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't think so." He started for the door that led out of the lobby. "What do you mean you don't think so?" I asked, following him.

"I think that I have other plans for these." We walked into the furnished room just as we had the last time when he suddenly turned and looked at me. I expected him to kiss me, but he didn't. Instead, Garrett took the few steps to close the space between us and reached out to untie the belt of my jacket. I watched him ball up my panties and push them into his pocket before sliding the jacket back from my shoulders and onto the floor. I was wearing black jeans and a cream-colored sweater, nothing as enticing as I had worn during our last encounters, but as he scrutinized me, he still looked at me with hunger in his eyes. He tucked his hands under my sweater and ran them up my stomach and onto my ribs, pressing with his fingertips as if counting my ribs. He then touched his fingertips to the underwire of my bra and followed it to the center where they traveled up between my breasts and then swept over the swells before his hands settled fully over the soft cotton of

the cups. He massaged into them for a few seconds and then ran his hands to my arms, so he could guide my sweater off over my head. When it had dropped from my fingers, Garrett knelt down in front of me and picked up one of my feet. He propped it on his thigh and untied the black ankle boot I was wearing. I watched as Garrett took off my shoe and set it aside, then peeled away my sock. He placed my foot back down on the floor and picked up the other, repeating the process. The movements were slow, methodical. I wanted to speak, but something about the meticulous way that he was gradually undressing me kept me silent. Still on his knees, Garrett released the button on the front of my pants and drew the zipper down. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my pants and wriggled them down over my hips and down my legs until I stepped out of them. When he had pushed them aside, his hands found my ankles and ran up the backs of my legs

until they reached the panties I was wearing. They were white cotton to match my bra, a simple, practical choice, and I found myself feeling strange with him looking at them. I waited for them to turn him off, to be the final emphasis on how different I was from the person he met, but he seemed unfazed. Garrett continued on with his slow, systematic undressing, guiding me first out of my panties and then out of my bra. Finally, I was standing completely bare in front of him, but he hadn't shed a single shred of clothing. He hadn't even kissed me. Without a word, he looped one finger around one of mine and led me across the room toward the fire pole that came down from the upstairs quarters. I remembered being a child and not believing that there were poles in actual firehouses. They were just on playgrounds and in old movies. That was the one truly enlightening thing about our field trip.

Maybe that was the mysterious moral of the trip. Garrett led me to the pole and pressed me against it so that my belly faced the metal. He stood behind me and swept both arms up and over my head, clasping my hands around the pole. A second later I felt his hands come back to my wrists and something tightening around them. I looked up and saw Garrett tying my panties tightly around my hands, lashing them to the pole over my head. When he was finished, he ran his hands down my arms and down the sides of my body until he reached my thighs. Once there, he tucked his hands to the insides of my legs and pushed them apart. He grabbed me by my hips and pulled them back so that I took several steps away from the pole. This put me in a bent over position, my hands still wrapped around the metal and my body fully exposed to him. The dominance sent a shiver of nervousness through me, but I also found myself

intrigued, excited by the unknown, by his quiet strength that made me feel at once perfectly safe and at his mercy. I had been craving Garrett's kiss since I arrived at the firehouse and now I finally felt his lips on my skin. They burned along my spine from the base of my head to the dip in the small of my back, then his tongue came between his lips and ran back up, following the path that he had just made until he reached my neck. I gasped at the feeling, arching toward it. Garrett stood close behind me and I felt his hand touch my thigh again and move up to dip between them, finding my core and stroking my sensitive pearl with his fingertips. His other hand found one of my breasts and his fingers teased my nipple, squeezing it lightly and pulling it as he increased the speed and pressure of his fingers. I rose up onto my toes in response to the delicious sensations and Garrett responded by gliding his fingers back through my folds and

pushing them into me. My entrance stretched, and my walls softened at his touch, wanting more and eagerly readying to accept it. He continued to play with my nipple as he turned his hand, pressing the pad of his thumb to my clit and swirling it in a dizzying pattern that made me cry out. In an instant, the intense pressure of a mind-blowing orgasm rushed over me and I screamed out, pressing my hips back toward him and spreading my legs further so he could push his fingers deeper inside me to soothe the still-aching need throbbing there. Garrett withdrew his fingers and grasped my hips, pushing me back toward the pole so that I stood upright. He reached above my head and slightly loosened the panties so that he could turn me around to face him and use my shoulders to push me down to a crouching position in front of him. I watched hungrily as he slowly unhooked his belt and unbuttoned his pants. My hands twitched

with desire to undress him, to hasten the release of the erection I could see bulging against his zipper. The fact that I couldn't only intensified my arousal and my mouth was watering by the time that I finally got to see his lush length stretching toward me. He stepped forward, so he stood between my spread knees and grasped the base of his shaft, directing the head toward my mouth. I parted my lips and accepted the head between them. I let the tip of my tongue glide along the slit, gathering the sweet-salty taste of the crystalline drops that were forming there before dipping inside for a brief instant. I then brought my attention down, concentrating on the taut, sensitive bundle of nerves on the underside. I could feel the blood coursing through the swollen veins along his cock and I licked each of them in turn. Finally, I opened my mouth fully and took him in. Garrett pressed his hips forward so that he slid across my tongue and plunged toward my throat. I relaxed,

welcoming him, accepting every inch of him until I felt him sink down into my throat and his hips begin to thrust. Rather than trying to control the movements, I gave myself over to him completely. I allowed the movements of Garrett's hips to control how my mouth glided along his cock and the depth that it reached in my throat. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes and feeling my stomach flutter as he watched me without hesitation. We remained that way for only a few moments before he pulled out of my mouth and stepped back to undress the rest of the way. When he was finished, he approached me and grasped me by the sides of my ribs, pulling me up off the floor and to my feet. He reached up and grabbed onto the panties around my wrists again, twisting them so that I faced away from him as I had before. His hands moved swiftly as they brought my hips back toward him and my feet spread far apart so that again I was bent over and

vulnerable to him. I heard the unmistakable rip of a condom wrapper opening and I wrapped my hands tightly around the pole, moaning loudly as he filled me with one thrust. Garrett pressed deeper and deeper into me until I felt the slight pain that made the ache within me release and filled me with a sense of fulfillment and wholeness. I felt something with him that I never had before, and I wanted more of it. I wanted everything that I could have of him, and to give him all of me that I had to give. Even if it was only the broken pieces. Even if it wasn't all of me. There was some of me that was locked away, kept silenced and untouchable, but what I was capable of offering him, I was willing to give. Just when I felt that my body couldn't possibly accommodate any more of him, Garrett began to thrust inside me. His hips moved in a fast, even pace, his silence finally broken with his grunts

that accompanied each stroke. My body was still humming with my first orgasm and now I could feel another growing, creeping up through me as it tightened my muscles and made my mind cloudy. Our panting and whimpering groans came out of us with abandon, filling the space around us, echoing off the walls and reverberating through me as I gave myself over to the climax that took me as suddenly and intensely as the first. I felt Garrett swell and throb within me at the same moment and his own animal growl covered even the sound of my cry. As our bodies cooled, Garrett released my wrists and lowered me down to sit in his lap as he leaned back against the pole. I tucked my head against the curve of his neck and shoulder, breathing in the musky smell of him, and smiled. He turned and kissed my hair and I nuzzled closer to him.

"Maybe we should actually schedule a time when we can see each other rather than just finding ourselves here," he finally said. "Maybe we should," I murmured. "How about this weekend?" I sighed and lifted my head, so I could look at him. "I can't," I told him. "I have to go to my parents' house." "Your parents' house? Is it far?" "No. They live in Silver Lake. Well, just outside of Silver Lake. It's about ten minutes from my house." He laughed. "If they live that close, why is the visit such a big deal?"

"I'm their only child," I explained. "So, my growing up and moving out of the house was a major thing for them. Besides, they always wanted to be the classic parents and grandparents welcoming the family home for visits. They don't have any grandchildren, so I'm it. I see them all the time, but they insist that every so often I come home and pretend that I'm returning after a long absence and spend the night with them. It's completely ridiculous, but I do it to amuse them." "That is pretty ridiculous," he said, but there was still laughter in his voice. I shrugged. "It makes them happy. What about your parents? Don't they ever ask you to do silly things that you do just to humor them?" Garrett's eyes darkened and his smile disappeared. I immediately wished that I hadn't asked that, realizing that I knew nothing about him

or his family and that I had obviously just touched on something extremely difficult for him. "No," he said. That was it. No further explanation. No details. I felt suddenly very aware of my nakedness in the open space and I climbed from his lap. I moved around as fast as I could, gathering my clothes and stuffing myself back into them. I was starting for the door when I felt his hand grasp my elbow. He turned me around and held me around my waist, leaning back slightly so that he could look into my face. My eyes explored his, searching for something within him, wanting to find what was hiding from me. After a few silent seconds, he leaned down and touched his lips to mine in a soft kiss. That kiss was still on my mind when I arrived at my parents’ house the next evening. As I always

did, I had brought several pieces of luggage with me. Though each one only held one or two items, it made it look as though I had made a grand journey to visit them. I hauled the pieces of luggage out of my car and carried them up onto the porch of the house. My mother burst out of the front door and held her arms open, gasping when she saw me as though we hadn't just gone to lunch the week before. I gave a deep sigh and mimicked sagging under the exhaustion of a long drive, and she rushed forward to wrap me in a hug. It was a charade that had played out every month or two for almost two years, and while I knew that it was silly and nonsensical, it also made my heart warm. I enjoyed the playfulness and it made me happy to know that even though I was still close and able to see them frequently, my parents still missed me and enjoyed having any opportunity to spend time with me. Just as he always did, my father stepped out

of the porch and eyed my luggage. "Do you think you brought enough?" he asked. "I think I have everything that I need," I told him. He nodded and reached for two of my suitcases. Neither one of them could have weighed more than two pounds, but he put on a dramatic show of hauling them up off the ground and lugging them into the house. My mother and I laughed as she wrapped her arm around my waist to guide me into the house. It smelled just like it had when I was a little girl. In the background, it was clean like fresh linens with a wisp of flowers from somewhere, but the first thing that I smelled was dough and cinnamon. Every time that I came home I was welcomed by my mother's baking and the smell was always enough to soothe any hurt and make me feel safe and secure again.

I curled up on the couch while my father carried my luggage up to my childhood bedroom. They hadn't changed it since I moved out, but I found that comforting each time that I returned. It was as though if I were feeling out of control or like I had veered away from myself, I could come home and hit a reset button, anchoring myself back into who I was so that I could find myself again. "How is the vacation planning going?" I asked. My mother came back into the room carrying a tray overflowing with cinnamon buns and mugs of coffee. She settled it onto the table between the couch and her favorite chair and I mused that she was still the only person I knew who actually used a coffee table for coffee. I reached forward and grabbed a mug with one hand and a roll with the other, happy to feel that both of them were warm enough to start thawing me out from the chill

outside. "Wonderfully!" my mother gushed. "You are going to love the place we chose this year!" Every year of my life my parents had planned a big trip for the three of us for spring break, and each year they strove to keep it a surprise until the day that we left. They had only managed to achieve that a few times. Usually, they ended up spilling all of the plans at least three weeks before leaving, which I always preferred. As much as they tried to convince me that I did, I didn't enjoy not knowing where we were going or what we would be doing. Not only did it present a packing dilemma, but it made me feel queasy knowing that I had absolutely no control. That thought reminded me of Garrett tying my hands to the pole and I felt a rush of heat across my cheeks. I took a sip of my coffee to try to cover it and focused back on the conversation with my

mother. "I hope that you two haven't come up with anything crazy," I said. "Oh, don't you worry about us. We can handle anything!" That sentiment was exactly why I spent so much time worrying about them. My mother and father might have looked like a sweet, quiet little couple, gliding on toward retirement age, but there were times when they certainly didn't act like it. Our family vacations were usually those times and I frequently found them engaging in behaviors that better befitted someone my age, or younger than it did them. Case in point, last year I nearly had a heart attack watching my father zip-line through a forest canopy while the year before found my mother submerging herself in a cage so that she could feed sharks. "I sure hope you brought along everything

you need," my father said as he came back down the steps and made a beeline for the coffee and cinnamon rolls. "But don't worry, even if you forgot something, we can always go up to the store and get it." Yes, the store that was three minutes closer to my house than it was to my parents'. That night I was tucked into my lace-edged sheets, staring at the inspirational poster I had hung on my wall during my junior year when I heard my phone chime from beneath my pillow. I had taken to keeping it there in the early days of college when my dorm roommate insisted that my alarm clock was archaic and produced too much light during the night to allow her to get sufficient REM sleep, so I would have to unplug it. An eight AM class necessitated me waking up reliably and using my phone alarm from directly beneath my head proved the only effective way of getting that done. The

roommate didn't last beyond the semester, but the phone-pillow habit survived to this day. I pulled my phone out and looked at the screen. It held a text message from Garrett. 'How was the road trip to your folks'?' 'Strenuous as always, but I got to listen to the top four greatest hits of the 80s, so that made it go by faster.' '80s music doesn't make anything go faster.' 'Don't besmirch my 80s music.' 'Besmirch? Is that actually a word that is still used?' 'Oh, hush your mouth.' 'I'm not using my mouth. I'm using my fingers.' 'Hush your...fingers.'

'Maybe you should come over and I'll find something better to do with my fingers.' I wriggled in my bed, squeezing my thighs together against the desire already growing there. 'I told you. I can't. I'm at my parents' house.' 'So, sneak out and come see me. I'll wait outside your window.' I muffled a laugh against my pillow. I loved that he was playing along, but even more amusing was that he was suggesting something that I would have never even considered in high school. Leaving for my dates when I was a teenager happened strictly through the front door, the exact same way that I returned, always on time and with my goodnight kiss occurring no less than 30 seconds before curfew so that the front door was closed and locked before I could be considered late. I was boring as hell.

I thought about my response for a few seconds, wondering if I should go along with his request, then thought better of it. 'Sorry. You're just going to have to miss me.' I felt myself blush as I sent the message and chastised myself for the reaction that brought me just a bit too close to being an actual teenager. I was feeling completely wrapped up in Garrett, my thoughts drifting to him every few minutes and my dreams filling with replays of our encounters and fantasies of what more could come. Even as I felt myself floating when I thought of him, there was a voice in the back of my mind that told me to be cautious. It reminded me that I didn't really know him and that I couldn't truly trust him. I had to protect myself. 'Missing you will just make me want you more.' I bit my bottom lip and tucked my phone

back under my pillow, trying to will myself to go to sleep.

Chapter Nine

Garrett

"Are you kidding me, Jason? Are you seriously freaking kidding me?" "I'm sorry, Dad." "I thought that we had this conversation. I thought that I made it clear to you that you needed to straighten up." "You did." "Apparently I didn't because you just waltzed in here with a letter from your teacher." I was furious that this is the way that my week was beginning. After a weekend of flirting and sexy banter with Gwendolyn, my Monday had started with the first fire call that I received since

taking my position. An apparent case of arson triggered by a long-standing feud between two families. The blaze had destroyed several generations-old buildings on a farm just outside of town and started a brush fire that nearly got out of control. If it hadn't been for some dampness remaining in the ground from the melting snow, many more buildings and homes could have been obliterated. The team had spent hours fighting back the flames, rescuing livestock, and trying to cooperate with the investigation of the arson without compromising the safety of the area and everyone in it. I had come home exhausted and wanting nothing more than just to take a shower, eat something, and go to bed. Instead, I had found an envelope sitting on the kitchen counter. There was no name on it, but the top corner held a printed return address for the school. "It's Miss Martin again," Jason said. "I told you, she won't get off my back. I don't know what

it is about her. She just doesn't like me. She hasn't liked me since the first day that she saw me, and she won't give me a break." "Somehow, I doubt that," I said. I tore open the envelope and pulled out the folded letter. When I opened it, all anger that I had toward my son disappeared and instead shifted so that it was directed right at the teacher. "Mr. and Mrs. Baxter," I said. She addressed the letter to Mr. and Mrs. Baxter. I saw Jason nodding and suddenly I felt like I understood what he was going through. Seeing that salutation on the letter made me intensely angry and my hands shook as I looked at it. I had moved us here to Silver Lake not because of any memories that I had of it, not because this is where I had been born, not because of any ties that I had to it, but despite those things. I had moved us here because of the small community and the opportunities that I

hoped that it would hold for my son. I thought that if we lived in a smaller area with a tighter community that he would have more of an opportunity to feel supported and encouraged, and build meaningful relationships that might help him to experience a greater sense of value and accountability. Instead, it seemed like he had disappeared. He was suddenly someone nobody understood, and who apparently no one was willing to take the time to understand. This letter was enough for me to see that this Miss Martin didn't even care enough about her students to take the time to get to know them or learn anything about them. If she did, then she would know that not only did Jason have a different last name than me, but there was no Mrs. in the house to read the letter along with me. I skimmed the rest of the letter. It requested that I come in for a conference with her so that we could discuss Jason's behavioral issues. I looked up

at Jason who had stayed standing a few feet from me, watching me as I read the letter. "What is it that you're doing in her class that has made her so angry at you?" I asked. He shrugged. "I'm not really doing anything," he said. "I might tease her a little bit. Sometimes I don't really get along with the other students that are in the class. But it's not like I'm throwing things at her or inciting riots or anything." I nodded. I folded up the letter and shoved it back into the envelope, slamming it down onto the counter. The last thing that I wanted to do was go up to the school and face this miserable woman. It seems like an absolute waste of my time and energy to go listen to her ramble on about Jason when I felt like I had gotten plenty of information from him and from that letter. At the same time, I did want to confront her. I wanted to tell her that she needed to

back off and stop being so hard on him just because he was acting like a teenage boy. I knew that he was rebellious and could be difficult. He was my son and I had lived with him every day of his life. I had seen him at his worst, at least the worst that I hoped that he would ever achieve, but I also knew that he was a decent kid. Being as hard on him as she was being wasn't going to help. If anything, it was going to push him further into acting out. I grabbed the phone and called the firehouse, letting them know that I needed to shift my hours the next day. When I hung up I looked at Jason. "I'm going up to the school tomorrow and I'm going to have a talk with Miss Martin," I said. He nodded again. Not feeling hungry anymore, I stomped down the hallway toward the shower, ready for the day to be over.

The next afternoon I strode into the front

office of the high school just a few moments after the final bell rang. I wanted to give any students in Miss Martin's last class the opportunity to get out of the classroom before I got into it. The secretary looked up at me with an expression that was somewhere between intimidation and attraction. It was something that I was accustomed to seeing in women, but at that moment I didn't care how anyone was reacting to me. I was getting ready to ask the secretary where to find Miss Martin when I saw the principal coming down the short hallway that led to his office. "Garrett," he said, sounding happy to see me. "This is certainly a surprise. What can I do for you?" "Well, unfortunately, it isn't a good surprise," I said. "That teacher that you and I talked about sent a letter home with Jason yesterday asking me to come up here and talk to her about him."

The color in the thin man's face drained away slightly, but he fought to keep the smile in place. I couldn't tell if that was because he was trying to lessen the impact of the situation or just because he wanted to stay on my good side. Either way, all I needed was for him to tell me where to find her classroom. He offered to escort me there and tried to keep up with a casual small-talk conversation as we made our way through the crowds of students congesting the hallways, as they tried to escape the school building for the afternoon. I kept my eyes out for Jason but didn't see him, as we turned off the main hallway and into one of the wings of the building. There was a sign above the main entrance to the section of the school that said Humanities and I remember that Jason had mentioned that Miss Martin was his History teacher. We turned down another small hallway and Mr. Jefferson stopped, gesturing at one of the classroom doors. "Here it is," he said. He then turned toward

the door. "Gwendolyn, there's a parent here to see you." Gwendolyn? Is that what he just said? There can't possibly be many of those in Silver Lake. I waited for a few breathless seconds until the teacher appeared at the open doorway and then felt my heart drop to my feet. Gwendolyn stood with her mouth partially open, her eyes locked on me. She was holding a pen in one hand and it dropped to her side, the pen falling from her fingers and onto the floor. The sound made her jump, seeming to bring her back into the moment and she leaned down to pick it up. "Are you alright?" Mr. Jefferson asked. "Yes," she said, brushing hair away from her face as she tried to regain her composure. "I'm fine. Thank you." Mr. Jefferson looked at me.

"This is Garrett Allen. He tells me that he received a letter from you requesting that he come in to discuss his son Jason." Gwendolyn stumbled over her words for a few seconds and then nodded. "Yes," she said. "That is correct. Thank you for making sure that he found me." Mr. Jefferson looked between the two of us, apparently able to see the tension that was building. "Do the two of you know each other?" He asked. Gwendolyn's eyes snapped to him. "I met him at the party that was thrown for him at the community center," she said. "I helped Sarah organize it and he and I had a few moments to speak then." The principal nodded.

"Good. Well, then, I will leave you to your conversation. I hope that everything works out well." There was a strange tone in the way that he said that almost as though he were saying it both as a plea to me and a warning to Gwendolyn. We both watched as he walked back down the hallway and as soon as he disappeared around the corner she turned dark, piercing eyes toward me. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm the one that received a letter from you saying that I needed to come in and have a conference with you about my son's behavioral issues. Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter received a letter from you." "How was I supposed to know that he doesn't have the same last name as his parents?" she hissed at me.

Another teacher stepped out of a classroom a few doors down and slid her eyes toward us. I gave a small smile and we both fell silent as she walked past. She moved at a pace that was far too slow, obviously hoping that she would be able to catch more of the conversation, but neither of us said another word until she was out of sight and we couldn't hear the sound of her high heels against the polished concrete floor. "Maybe we should go in your classroom and continue this conference,” I said. "Fine," Gwendolyn said. We walked into the classroom and she closed the door behind me before stalking across the room to take her place behind the desk. It was like she was bracing herself, creating a protective barrier between the two of us with her professional standing as much as the hunk of pressed wood and metal.

"So, do you want to explain to me why you have so much of a problem with my son?" I asked. "I didn't even know that he was your son," she said defensively. "How could you lie to me