by Moore, M. K.
“Gwen is a classy lady,” she says, rolling away from me. I move to lie on my side of the bed and watch as she hunts for her phone. When she can’t find it, she gives up and comes back to bed. “I’ll call her later, it will still be funny then.” She pulls the covers up over us and within minutes she is out. I am still wide awake though. I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom, grabbing some clean boxers as I go.
Deciding a shower would be good, I turn the water on as hot as I can stand it and step inside. I immediately notice that things are different in here. Mallory had a safety rail and bench installed while we were gone. I smile. I never would have done that. I don’t take long showers, so I am usually in and out. Her love for me shines through in the little things. I also love how she didn’t make a big show of it. Just had them installed. I'm already imagining all the ways I'm going to put this bench to use. I shut that line of thinking down because jerking off one-legged in a slippery shower just seems to be begging for disaster. I finish washing up, mindful that my beard now requires extra attention, and carefully get out. I wasn't really thinking when I came in here, so I don't have the extra support that I need.
“Looking for this?” Mallory asks softly. I look over to see that she is propped up against the doorway, still naked, holding my crutch.
“I am. How'd you know?” She comes closer and hands it to me.
“Do you know you sing in the shower?” I have heard this before. My Army buddies used to tell me that all the time. I cringe. I have been known to sing some crazy ass songs before.
“What was I singing?” I ask.
“The new Backstreet Boys song. You aren’t terrible,” she says with a smirk.
“You mean the song you listen to on repeat when you write? I wonder how I even know it?” She laughs.
“I wonder. Are you coming back to bed?” she asks.
“Yeah give me a minute,” I say.
“Okay,” she says, kissing me quickly before leaving the room.
* * *
Later in the week while Mallory is on the set of Ryan’s Kiss and I’m working in our office, Giggles at my feet, I hear a strange scratching noise. I double check to be sure the dog is still down below the desk; she is sound asleep. I walk out into the living room and look around, but I don’t see anything. Hearing it again, I move to the front door. I key in the alarm code and open the door. An adorable little old lady is standing there.
“Did you need something, ma’am?” I ask.
“Yes. I tried knocking but you didn’t hear me.”
“So, scratching usually works?”
“It got you to answer the door, didn’t it?”
“Very true ma’am. How can I help?”
“I need a light bulb changed. Thomas isn’t working today, and Jake isn't answering. Mallory told me that if I ever needed anything to just knock.” That sounds like her. I smile.
“I’d be happy to,” I say. “I am Malachi, Mallory’s husband.”
“I know, son. I am Maisey Detwiler. You can call me Maisey.”
“Alright, Ms. Maisey. Nice to meet you. Where is the light that needs changing?”
“In the kitchen, I just can’t reach it. It wouldn’t do for me to be standing on a chair these days.”
“Of course. That wouldn’t be good.”
I follow her across the hall and into her apartment. It is decorated just like you’d expect an apartment in this building would be. Fancy and over the top, but somehow still homey. There are pictures everywhere, I assume they are of her family. She leads me into the kitchen and the lightbulb that needs changing is one of those hanging lantern types. I can easily reach it, but I can see how it would be a problem for the older woman who can’t be more than 5’2. After I change the bulb, she invites me to stay for tea.
“What do you do Malachi? Mallory never said.”
“I was injured in the Army. Now I do cybersecurity work,” I reply.
“Injured how?” Got to love an old lady’s bluntness. I take a drink of my tea before answering.
“Lost a leg in a training accident,” I say. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like the weight of a thousand elephants is sitting on my chest when I say it.
“That’s not too terrible. My Walter lost a leg in World War II. I didn’t know him before the war, you see. We met when I was a nurse on the U.S.S. Solace, a hospital ship.”
“You were in the Army Nurse Corps?” I question.
“I was, from 1941-1946. It was an interesting time in my life. I wouldn’t have met Walter otherwise. He was from New York and I was from Washington state. About as far apart as you can get.”
“That is amazing,” I say honestly. I ask her a million questions about the war, which she answers patiently. I'm a war buff through and through.
How did Walter handle his disability?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know. I may be looking for some pointers.
“Walter never let the fact that he only had one leg stop him and this was in the days before those nice prosthetics. He wasn’t running marathons, but he was downright imaginative if you know what I mean. After all, we did manage to have six kids.” Of course, I would be taking a drink. I make a small choking sound but quickly recover.
“Ms. Maisey, I do believe that you are a sassy thing, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been known to be.”
“I bet.”
I spend another hour, maybe a little longer, with her. I learned that her children and grandchildren only come to see her on the holidays, and I don’t like that one bit. We make a standing tea date for three o’clock every weekday. I head back over to our place and get back to work.
When Mallory comes home, she doesn’t look happy.
“How was it today?” I ask cautiously.
“It was great. Lance and Lana have so much chemistry. It’s palpable,” she says, plopping down on the couch in a huff.
“That’s good, right?” I raise an eyebrow in confusion.
“That’s great, but I can’t figure out where this note came from. It was on the back seat of Jacob’s car.” She hands me a piece of paper. It’s straight out of a movie. Letters cut out of magazines spelling “Die, bitch, die.”
“What did Jacob say?” I ask.
“I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
“I was completely weirded out.”
“This is literally his job, babe. He needs to know these things. I’ll call him.”
“If you think that’s best,” she says shakily. I hate this shit.
“I definitely do. Where are you going?”
“To take a shower. Join me?” She leaves her purse on the couch and walks down the hallway without waiting for an answer.
This seems like the perfect time to test out the bench she had installed, but my mind is reeling.
I don’t know if this note was meant for her or not, but it sure seems like it was.
Fuck. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.
Nothing makes me feel less in control than being unable to protect her myself.
Nothing.
Chapter 13
Mallory
As I stand rinsing my hair under the hot spray, I feel Malachi come in behind me.
“You took a while. I'm almost done.” He places little kisses on my shoulder.
“Sorry. I was on the phone.”
“Jacob? What did he say?”
“He's concerned, we’re going to put an additional guy on you.”
“Is that really necessary?” I ask.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says. The forceful way he says it makes me not want to argue with him.
“Okay. Thank you.” I shift over, so he can stand under the spray once I'm done.
“I have to keep you safe and this is the only way I can.”
“I understand, really I do. I just don't understand why this is happening to me. I mean, I'm just a romance novelist. I'm nobody in the grand scheme of things.”
“That isn't true, baby. You're somebody
to me. Everything actually,” he says as he turns the water off and faces me.
“I’m such a mess,” I say, stepping out and reaching for the towels hanging on the pegs outside the stall. He grabs my hand and pulls me back to him.
“Not true. In fact, you are the only thing I need. The. Only. Thing,” he says slowly to make his point before kissing me like there won't be a tomorrow.
We are soaking wet, my hair is hanging in limp, wet, sheets in my face, but I don't care. Nothing is more important to me than this kiss, this man. My husband.
“Take me to bed, please,” I beg.
“Your wish is my command,” he says, practically dragging me from the bathroom. He manages to toss me onto the bed. His fingers are inside me before I can bounce. My moan is long and loud.
“I don't need this, Malachi, please fuck me.” He takes his fingers from my pussy and sucks on them.
“I'm in charge of your pleasure, Mallory. Let me love you,” he says turning my own words back on me. His tongue meets my clit and my back arches.
I settle back down and let him do what he wants to me.
I lose track of time and it's dark out before we come up for air. My stomach growls and he puts his hands on my belly, protectively.
“Shit. Let me feed you guys. What do you want?”
“Chinese,” I say it so quickly that he laughs before murmuring something inaudible to my belly before kissing it. He shakily pushes off the bed and grabs his crutch.
“You ok?” I ask, concerned.
“Yeah, I came so hard, my legs are like jelly and that sucks because I only have the one, ya know?” He shrugs.
Before I can respond, he picks up his phone to order our dinner. While he’s doing that, I climb out of bed and go back into the bathroom where I finish drying off. I blow dry my hair and put on Malachi’s thick terrycloth robe. His mother got it for him for Christmas, but he never wears it, so I’ve taken it over. That’s a cute wifey thing, right? When I come back out of the bathroom, Malachi isn’t in our room anymore. I find him in the living room going through the Netflix queue.
“What do you feel like watching?” he asks.
“Something with action. My mind is romanced out right now.”
“Got it.”
We settle on a movie about car chases and go to bed early.
I oversleep the following morning, so I quickly get ready for my second prenatal appointment. I'm twelve weeks along so we should get to hear the baby's heartbeat today, which I'm super excited about. They are also running various tests on me that make me nervous even just thinking about them. I never got morning sickness so that's good. I have been nauseous the whole time though, but thankfully that's starting to fade. I get dressed like I'm Speedy Gonzales. Somehow, Malachi has managed to be dressed and ready. He’s been waiting for me for a while. Men. Eight minutes later, we walk outside just as a taxi pulls up. Talk about luck.
My doctor's office is in Brooklyn, so at this time of day it takes forever. When we get there, we are taken back to a room.
“Alright, Mrs. Goranson, go ahead and strip down. Here's a gown. Dr. Patel will be in shortly.”
I change quickly, and Malachi helps me up onto the exam table. I am freezing but I don't have to wait long before Dr. Patel comes in.
“Mrs. Goranson. I'm Dr. Patel. Now, I've spoken to Dr. Mayer. All your tests from your first visit were perfect. Once I'm through examining you, a nurse will come in and draw blood for some additional tests. Any questions?”
“No,” I say at the same time Malachi says “yes.” I look over at my husband.
“What happened to the female doctor?” he asks. I want to burst out laughing. The doctor chuckles. He has nothing to worry about, I'm pretty sure the doctor is older than my grandfather.
“Babe, this is a group of doctors. When I wasn't pregnant, Dr. Mayer was my gynecologist. All the obstetricians will see me in the office at least once in case they are the one on call when I go into labor, that way I'll be comfortable.”
He grumbles under his breath but nods.
Dr. Patel shakes Malachi's hand when he begins, “Actually, Mr. Goranson, this is how most OB offices work. We’re not out to take advantage of your wife, we just want the best outcome for her and your baby.
“Sorry, about that,” Malachi says, now a little embarrassed.
“No worries. You'd be surprised how often it happens around here.” The doctor has to be used to crazy and worried dads at this point in his career.
“I can imagine.”
The doctor rubs some cold-ass gel on my belly and a few seconds later a loud whooshing sound fills the room.
“Is that our baby?” I ask, tears filling my eyes.
“It is. I just need to confer with Dr. Mayer. Give me a moment,” he says, leaving the room after a picture prints from his machine.
“I wonder what that was all about,” I ask aloud. My motherly instinct kicks in and I instantly worry. Fuck, what if something’s wrong with the baby. I don’t say this out loud, but Malachi must see the fear in my eyes.
“Doctor stuff,” Malachi says, shrugging. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. This man can read me so well, like we’ve always been together.
A few minutes later, both Doctors Patel and Mayer come back into the room.
“Oh my God, just tell us. What’s wrong with the baby?” I ask, grabbing Malachi’s hand. I can’t hold it in any longer. Shit, I was right.
“Nothing is wrong with the baby. In fact, they are both healthy and right on track.”
“Oh, good.” I pause taking in what she just said. “I’m sorry, did you say both?”
“Yes. Twins.” A smile forms on Dr. Mayer’s face when both her and Dr. Patel look at one another and then at us.
Malachi’s eye’s whip around to me. I can only say, “Twins?” I repeat over and over.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Patel finally speaks. “We’re going to want to see you a few more times than normal, but everything is looking great, Mallory.”
“That’s good news,” I manage to say. I look back over to Malachi. All the color has drained from his face.
“We’ll let you get dressed. Make sure you stop by reception to make an appointment for about four weeks from now.”
“I will. Thank you, doctors.”
There’s an expectant silence after they leave the room; Malachi still hasn’t said anything yet. I sit up and maneuver so that he's standing between my legs.
“Twins,” he finally says.
“Are you happy?” I ask nervously, though I don’t exactly know why I am nervous.
His hands are raking through his hair. He’s quiet, he’s processing it, I know but he’s freaking me the fuck out. Finally, he says, “Excited, not sure that’s the word for it. And happy as fuck, yet. But shocked, you know?”
“Me too.” Now I can breathe with this very natural reaction.
He empties the space between us, grabbing my hand. “Let's get you dressed. We should celebrate.” The celebration happened all through the night, as he laid claim to my body over and over again. This is my life. I still pinch myself.
* * *
Two weeks later, I'm getting ready for bed after a shower. For the first time, I notice my belly has popped out.
“Malachi,” I scream, beyond excited. He bursts in the door and looks around for some sort of emergency.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? The babies?” Well, that overreaction thing must run in the family.
“Sorry, babe. I am fine. I just wanted to show you something.”
He is taking in deep breaths, calming his nerves. I can’t help but giggle. “Oh, fuck, Mallory. You took ten years off my life. What did you want to show me?”
“Look,” I say as I turn around. I run my hands over my new baby bump.
“Shit. Baby, you look so sexy,” he says, carefully getting to his knees and placing kisses on my belly. “I’m your daddy and I’m going to love you forever, just like your mommy.” My han
ds dig into his hair.
“You are so cute right now.” I look down at him as he looks at me and our eyes meet.
“This is really happening isn’t it?” he asks, standing. I trail behind him walking out of the bathroom into the bedroom.
“It’s happening and I, for one, couldn’t be happier.”
“Me either,” he says.
“I still can’t believe we are having twins. They don’t run in my family. Do they in yours?” I ask. I am still in awe with the fact that I am having twins.
“I checked with my mom and I found out that I have some uncles who are twins, and my grandmother was one as well.” Over the last two weeks we have talked about nothing else really.
“That’s awesome,” I say as we climb into bed.
“I guess it is.” He leans in next to me. “How is the movie going?”
“Good. Filming is almost done. Lance and Lana are amazing. I’m so in love with the way it’s going.”
“That’s so good. I am so excited to see it.” Anything that is important to me will always be important to him. It makes me feel like a queen.
“The premiere is set for December of next year. I am getting excited for that. I am having a dress custom made.”
“I’m sure you will look beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that because you have to,” I say, smiling.
“I don’t have to say it. I just happen to be speaking the truth. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, husband,” I say with a laugh. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Let me love you,” he says as gently pushes me onto my back and proceeds to run his fingertips all around my body. This has become our thing. We say it to each often and I love it. He touches every single inch of my body. He avoids both my nipples as well as my pussy. I am wet, and I can feel his cock digging into my thigh.
“Malachi, please. Your teasing has gone on too long. Please.”
“I like when you beg me, Mallory. It makes me harder. Harder than I thought possible.”
“Malachi,” I say in warning. A warning he doesn’t heed, of course.