Transfer

by Aly Martinez

  “Where do you live?” She took a bite.

  “House in the northeast burbs.” I took a bite.

  She finished chewing. “College?”

  I finished chewing. “University of Georgia.”

  “How’d you become a DEA agent?” Another bite.

  My hand froze in midair, the pizza halfway to my mouth as a slow grin pulled at my lips. “A ‘show me your titties’ sign.”

  Her chin snapped to the side as she laughed. “Um. What?”

  “St. Patrick’s Day, downtown. I was a rookie cop, and we’d gotten word from the Captain that we were cracking down on the Mardi Gras–style flashing for beads that year. You know, trying to keep the biggest drinking day of the year family friendly and all,” I joked.

  She rewarded me with another soul-soothing giggle.

  “Anyway, I concocted a plan. Captain agreed. I drove my truck down and parked along one of the main strips with a fuck-ton of beads and a handwritten ‘show me your titties’ sign. Chicks walked by, showed me their titties, then my boys picked ’em up for indecent exposure. Eighty-seven arrests. Captain was so impressed he threw my name out to the DEA. Rest is history.”

  “You did not,” she gasped.

  I smirked with pride. “Can’t make that shit up. I got paid to sit around and be flashed all day. Best job a man could have.” I took another bite of pizza, talking around it as I said, “But that was before I found out I could get paid for sitting around, bullshitting with you.”

  Her eyes lit at the compliment. “Well, in the nightie Elisabeth bought, it’s practically the same thing.”

  I pointed at her with my crust and winked. “This is not a bad thing.”

  Aaaaaaannnnd…now, I’m flirting.

  Fuck. Me.

  But, as she started picking sausage off another piece of pizza for me, I realized I was already fucked when it came to Clare.

  And, Christ, it felt good.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Noir. It’s so nice to see you again,” Doctor Fulmer said as he entered the room. His balding, gray head was down as he flipped through the pages of a medical chart.

  I had an overwhelming urge to light it on fire and pray that the flames would engulf me too.

  I was flat on my back, an IV in my hand, a paper blanket covering my lap, and tears rolling from my eyes.

  “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart,” Walter purred before placing a chilling kiss to my forehead.

  I wasn’t nervous.

  I was devastated.

  It was the day of my egg retrieval. The day my eggs would be paired with Walt’s sperm and innocent children would be created. When I’d been a little girl, I’d had dreams of having sweet, little babies with my eyes. But not like this.

  During the IVF process, I’d prayed every night as Walt gave me my shots that my ovaries wouldn’t stimulate. However, the monitoring ultrasounds revealed three “beautiful” follicles steadily maturing.

  I hadn’t given up all hope. From what I’d read on the Internet, not all follicles contained eggs and three was an extremely small number for the amount of medication they’d given me. But Doctor Fulmer had assured us that he’d been successful with less.

  Just that morning, I’d dropped to my knees in our bathroom and begged whatever God was out there that he’d fail.

  The doctor reassuringly squeezed my foot and glanced up to Walt. “We’re all set.”

  “Perfect,” he replied sinisterly.

  “All right, Mrs. Noir. The anesthesiologist is going to get you sedated and then we’ll wheel you to the back, retrieve those beauties, and you’ll be right back at your husband’s side before you know it.”

  That only made the tears fall harder, and a loud sob tore from my throat.

  “Clare,” Walt scolded, sliding his hand under my neck and squeezing painfully hard. “Get it together,” he seethed.

  “Sorry,” I said to him before looking to the doctor and lying. “I’m just nervous. That’s all.”

  His eyebrows regretfully pinched together, but his gaze darted back to Walt. “Okay, then. I’ll just give you a moment to collect yourself, and then we’ll get things started.”

  “Just send them in now. She’s fine,” Walt replied, his hidden fingers biting into the back of my neck.

  More tears spilled from my eyes, but I managed to squeak out, “Yes. Send them in.”

  Doctor Fulmer shook his head but didn’t say anything else before exiting the room.

  No sooner had the door clicked than Walt was in my face. One of his hands slapped over my mouth. The other twisted in the back of my hair, forcing my head to the side.

  “I swear to God I will fucking kill you if you pull that shit again.” The veins on his forehead bulged from the exertion.

  Panic thundered in my chest. I had no doubt he was telling the truth. Just a week earlier, I’d heard him say those exact words to a man he’d considered his best friend since childhood as he’d sat on our couch as a welcomed guest. An hour later, I’d been on my knees, cleaning his skull fragments off my living room wall.

  I nodded vigorously.

  He studied my frightened eyes for a few beats longer before finally releasing me. “I’d appreciate it if you tried to be a little more grateful here.” He sauntered over to the door and peeked outside. “It’s not my fucking fault we’re in this situation. It’d do you well to remember that. My shit tested just fine. It’s your white-trash, inbred ovaries that’s costing us thirty fucking thousand dollars.” He raked a frustrated hand through his dark-brown hair before smoothing it back into place. “A ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ would go a long fucking way right now, Clare.”

  “Thank you and I love you,” I repeated immediately, vomit creeping up the back of my throat.

  He glared at me and cracked his neck. “You’re fucking lucky I love you. If I was a different kind of man, I would drop you and move the fuck on. Your kind’s a dime a dozen, and most of them aren’t broken like you. Don’t fucking forget that.”

  Oh, how I’d wished he were a different kind of man. I wouldn’t wish a life with Walter Noir on my worst enemy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy walking away if he found someone new to torment.

  “I know,” I whispered to keep the shake out of my voice.

  He scoffed and planted his fists on his hips. “Then fucking act like it. I’m sick and tired of these doctor’s appointments. Any other woman I’d be able to fuck in the ass and still knock her up. You though? I had to jerk my own cock into a cup to make a baby. Something is seriously wrong with that bullshit.”

  A few years ago, that rant would have destroyed me. But I’d become numb to his verbal abuse. Nothing he could say could hurt me as much as living at his side.

  Being forced to carry his baby, though, would be a close second.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, using the back of my arm to dry my cheeks.

  He rolled his eyes, snatching a tissue from the box on the counter. “Clean up your face.” He waved it in my direction.

  I followed his order and dug down deep in order to keep fresh tears from reappearing.

  Crying was useless.

  But, then again, so was breathing when you were married to a monster.

  A knock sounded at the door just seconds before a middle-aged man pushed a cart inside.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  Walt quickly moved to my side and took my hand.

  My pulse sped to a near marathon pace and my body began to tremble as I told the biggest lie of my entire life. “Yes.”

  “You ready?” Heath asked, sitting beside me on the bed.

  “No,” I whispered.

  He nodded and rested his elbows on his knees.

  It had been a week, and no one had heard from Walt.

  Was I unnerved that he’d all but disappeared? Unquestionably.

  Did I feel like I was finally living for the first time since he’d slid his ring on my finger? Abso-fucking-lutely.

  After my first night at R
oman and Elisabeth’s, I’d learned something from the sexy and impossibly sweet Heath Light. Being forced to depend on people wasn’t such a bad thing after all. So what if Elisabeth had bought me underwear and ridiculous nighties to sleep in? She’d also baked my baby cookies and provided me with a fully furnished bedroom where we could sleep safely and soundly while DEA agents and personal security guarded us. She hadn’t had to do that any more than Heath had had to order me pizza and stay up until the wee hours of the morning, filling my head with his past until I’d finally managed to drift off.

  The following day, after Heath had mentioned something to Elisabeth over a breakfast she’d cooked for us, I’d found a bag full of yoga pants and oversized T-shirts on my bed.

  I’d cried as I’d pulled them on.

  They felt like me. But not Clare Noir. Walt never would have allowed me to wear that to bed.

  They felt like me. Clare Cynthia Cornwell. The woman I’d lost the day I’d signed my life away on the dotted line of a marriage certificate.

  That night, after I got out of the shower, I found Heath sitting in my room, lounging on the bed, while Tessa explained to him all things Surprise Eggs and Shopkins. He listened intently with bright eyes and a wide smile that made my stomach dip.

  That was Heath.

  He was oddly reminiscent of Luke—but better.

  After Tessa had fallen asleep, we stayed up all night, talking again and watching old reruns of Wheel of Fortune. He was exhausted and yawned repeatedly, but he stayed until my lids fluttered closed. I wasn’t sure when he’d snuck out, but he was gone by the next morning.

  He always came back the following night though.

  When I was with Heath, I didn’t feel like I was drowning. For those hours locked in a bedroom with him while Tessa slept soundly beside me, I was the happiest I’d been in years. The expansive world outside paled in comparison to the beauty inside those four walls. He made sure of that.

  I would have lived in the confines of that safe haven forever as long as I had them beside me.

  Heath had taken so many of my dirty and broken pieces away over the last week that it was a wonder I wasn’t transparent. The holes left behind weren’t always as easy to fill. But, each time I fell apart, he was there.

  It’d taken a few days, but I’d relaxed when it came to Tessa. I’d been encouraging her to spend more time alone with Elisabeth and Roman. They were good people. And God knows she hadn’t had many of those in her life. The smile on her face as she found comfort with others was worth every minute of my anxiety. And the peace I felt when I leaned back against Heath’s chest as we watched her from the window while she raced through the backyard, Loretta hot on her heels, made it worth it in a different way.

  My relationship with the Leblancs was evolving as well. I was no expert on friendship, but it felt like Elisabeth and I had developed one. We laughed a lot and had shared quite a few tears too. She was candid about her and Roman’s relationship. How they had gotten a divorce and it wasn’t until they found out about the possibility of the embryos having been switched that they rekindled things. Their story of love and loss wasn’t an easy one, but as sad as it may sound, I was jealous.

  Roman was an amazing man—albeit bossy and stubborn. But it was obvious he was madly in love with her and her with him.

  It was a concept my mind couldn’t quite grasp.

  Walt had proven that love wasn’t always hearts and flowers. It could be dark and dirty, defined by power and pain, and filled with anguish and agony.

  But, even knowing that, I still longed for a connection. Like the magical spark I felt when I was with Heath—even when he had been Luke.

  Swallowing hard, I snuck a peek at him as he crossed his thick arms over his chest and kicked his legs out in front of him. Beautifully relaxed. His blond hair was styled away from his face, and a thin layer of scruff covered his jaw. My stealthy gaze drifted to his lips, where they lingered for entirely too long. I had no right to wonder what they would feel like pressed against my own. But that didn’t stop me.

  It was not the day to be daydreaming about Heath.

  Tessa’s DNA test had come in and a doctor from the lab was driving out to give us the results in person. We all knew what they were going to read, but apprehension had still hovered in the air over breakfast.

  Desperate to feel something—anything—except the nerves rolling in my stomach, I rested my hand on his thigh.

  “What do you need, Clare?” he murmured the same way he had so many times over the last week.

  My answer was always the same. “You.”

  “Then get over here and take it,” he replied as usual.

  It was an offer I never refused.

  His blanket of warmth was often the only thing that could ward off the chill of reality.

  “I’m nervous,” I admitted, leaning into his side.

  Curling an arm around my shoulders, he reclined on the bed, taking me down with him.

  “You should be,” he said dryly. “I’ve decided today is going to be the day I finally beat you at Wheel of Fortune.”

  An evil laugh bubbled in my throat. “Good luck with that.”

  “I’m serious. I know you’re cheating.”

  “Oh please!” I rolled my eyes. “You guessed The Old Man and the Bee as a famous book. It doesn’t require cheating to beat you.”

  “Hey!” He feigned injury. “It was a brilliant piece of satire.”

  “A brilliant piece of fake satire is more like it. I Googled it. It’s not real.”

  He teasingly gasped. “You used the Google against me? How dare you!”

  I squealed as he tickled my side.

  Tessa’s attention snapped to us, concern in her deep-green eyes.

  Heath sat up a fraction to flash her a huge grin before saying, “Your mama thinks she’s funny.”

  Her eyes lit. “Mama’s funny when she dances.”

  Oh shit.

  Heath’s head swung to me, his mouth hanging open in amusement. “You dance?”

  I bulged my eyes at Tessa. “No!”

  And I didn’t—unless I was alone in a room with Tessa. And then I became Michael freaking Flatley—assuming he was drunk, deaf, and rhythmless. But there was no way Heath would ever get to witness a tragedy like that.

  “You do!” Tessa argued. “Like dis.” She got to her feet and flailed her arms and legs in probably a much better impression of my dancing.

  Heath laughed loudly.

  I rolled to my side and buried my face in his chest. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

  His head dipped, his lips going to my ear as he rumbled, “Change of plans, babe.” Chills prickled on my neck as his warm breath breezed over my skin. “Tonight we’re forgoing Wheel of Fortune so you can show me these famous moves.”

  I giggled and stretched my arm across his stomach, letting my hand splay over the hard ridges of his abs.

  Heath and I weren’t exactly cuddlers, but true to his word, if I needed something, he gave it to me. And, truth be told, sometimes, I didn’t need it at all—I wanted it.

  And I was quickly realizing that, when it came to Heath, I wanted it all.

  I decided a change of topic would be better than discussing my “famous moves” any further. “What should we do with her while we hear the results?”

  “I trust her with Alex,” he said, squeezing me tight.

  “I don’t know.”

  “She likes Ethan a lot,” he suggested.

  “I know,” I replied, lifting my head to check on Tessa, who had gone back to quietly drawing in one of the activity books Elisabeth had bought her. “What about if I just let her wear the headphones and watch a movie?”

  He gave me a tight squeeze. “You gonna be able to keep it together? It’ll freak her out if you get upset. She feeds off your emotions.”

  I sighed. “I already know the results.”

  “What about me?” he suggested. “I could sit with her.”


  I sucked in a sharp breath. I trusted her with Heath. Completely.

  But I didn’t trust myself without him when those results were read.

  “Headphones. I’ll keep it together,” I decided immediately.

  He nodded, and while I couldn’t be positive, I swear I felt his lips press against the top of my head before he mumbled, “Okay.”

  God, it felt good to have him. He might not have agreed with my decision. But he supported me no matter what.

  “Luke! Look!” Tessa yelled, holding up a picture she’d drawn.

  He lifted his head off the bed, keeping me held tight to his side as he praised, “Good job, sweet girl. Is that a snowman?”

  She burst out laughing. “No! Dat’s you!”

  “Well, shit,” he mumbled, glancing down at me with a playful grin. “I think that might be my cue to get back in the gym.”

  I laughed, and there was no mistaking it that time. A huge smile split his mouth just as it came down on my forehead. He kissed me chastely, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  And maybe it was.

  It didn’t hurt. It wouldn’t be followed by demands of sex. Nor would my reaction determine how many bruises I would end up with.

  It was just a simple show of affection.

  And it came from Heath.

  My heart swelled and my nose began to sting, but I refused to cry. Tears had no business between us anymore.

  “You ready?” he whispered.

  No. Absolutely not. Because ready meant leaving that moment with him and facing the reality that loomed on the other side of the bedroom door. However, I was certain the doctor had already arrived, assuming he’d made it through our security detail.

  “Two minutes?” I asked.

  This got me a, “Yeah, babe,” which was followed by a tight squeeze and another lip touch on my forehead.

  And that made me regret not asking for two days.

  We sat in silence, watching Tessa search through every crayon for the perfect shade to color a pig.

  Two minutes turned into ten, but he never pressured me.

  He was incredible like that.