by Sarah Cole
I check the windows and doors one last time, not that it apparently matters, and I head back upstairs to take a shower.
After a few hours of paranoia, I decide it’s time to call it a night. Laying here in bed, I know I’m exhausted, but I can’t empty my mind enough to let sleep find me. I pull out my phone and scroll through the handful of pictures I snapped of Emma over the last few days, and finally land on one of Flynn sleeping on the couch with Emma on his chest. My goodness, that man is handsome beyond reason.
I’ve only been gone about three hours, but I have to know how they are. I decide to text Flynn.
Me: How’s my favorite Daddy/Daughter duo?
Flynn: lol. I knew you wouldn’t last long. We’re fine.
Me: Sorry. I’m just attached.
Flynn: To which one of us?
The butterflies I’ve been feeling over the past weeks, flutter double time in my tummy. Oh, how do I answer that without being too obvious of my crush? He has been kind and affectionate, but I feel like that may have been him just needing support in a stressful time.
My phone chimes again, and I realize I’ve been sitting here stressing about my answer for a few minutes.
Flynn: Ouch.
Me: Would it be fair to say both of you?
Flynn: I think Emma and I can live with that. We’re kind of a package deal.
Me: I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Flynn: Glad to hear it. You should see her face. She’s taking this bottle and trying to stay awake.
Me: Video chat?!
My phone rings not ten seconds later, and I scramble to turn on the lamp beside my bed.
I tap the button to accept and Flynn’s handsome face fills my screen. His stubble has turned more into a beard after a few days of exhaustion, and sue me if my mind doesn’t drift to daydream about what it would feel like rubbing against my neck, my chest, my….
“Clara?” He say with humor in his voice, and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Why yes, you totally just caught me fantasizing about you.
“Let me see!” I say, and he turns the phone to show Emma greedily slurping down her bottle. We already had to up the number of ounces we gave her because the recommended two wasn’t going very far.
“Hi, sweet girl.” I coo, “Clara misses you and those chubby little cheeks.”
Her eyes lazily open, glancing around and rest on the phone. I continue to babble to her, and sing incredibly off key until her eyes drift completely closed, and the formula dribbles out the side of her mouth.
“Milk coma.” I hear Flynn chuckle.
“Yeah. You’re going to have to burp her still though.” I say and he adjusts so she’s resting on his chest and I watch as he pats her tiny back with care.
“It feels weird, you not being here.” He finally says, looking at me through the screen. He studies me, not saying anything more.
“It feels weird not being there. I wish I was, but I’ll be back in a few hours.” I say, and that seems to jar him from his thoughts.
“Yeah, you should get some sleep. You’ll be dead on your feet otherwise. Goodnight, angel.” He says softly.
“‘Night, Flynn. Give Emma snuggles from me.”
He nods slightly, still regarding me with an intense look before I smile at him one last time and hit end.
I plug my phone back in, switch off the lamp, and lay down with a smile on my lips.
10
FLYNN:
Clara ends the call and I sit on the couch, holding Emma for a few moments willing myself to not hit redial just so I can see her face for a few more minutes. She has absolutely no idea what she makes me feel. To her I might be her employer, and Emma might just be a job, but her compassion is real. The things I’m feeling are real – truer than any truth I’ve ever known. I’m just confused as fuck on how to act on it, or wondering if I should at all. I feel like she’s attracted to me in the subtle ways she responds, but would she be willing to turn it into something more? God, I hope so. She thinks I didn’t notice the way the tops of her bare breasts were visible in her tiny satin pajamas, or the way her nipples created stiff peaks under the thin fabric? I couldn’t not notice…because I notice everything about her.
Cursing the way my thoughts are headed, I stand with Emma, still snuggled up against my chest and walk her gently up the stairs, placing her in her bassinet and turn the monitor on. I kiss her nose, “Daddy loves you baby angel.” And I do, the love I have for this little girl is more than anything I have felt in my life. It is different and a kind of love I never knew existed. Now I understand why my parents tolerated all of the shit I did, and still looked at me with love. I get it. Emma could be a royal fuckup someday, and I don’t think I would love her any less. I just wish she had a mama, someone to help her through those girly times that I don’t have the foggiest clue about. My mind defaults to Clara once more and I know I’m royally screwed because she is the only woman I want to fill that role.
I decide to take this time and get myself cleaned up. I honestly haven’t showered in two days and I’m looking a little rough. I shave quickly and step into my subway tiled shower, letting the hot water melt away two days’ worth of baby spit up and grime and once again find myself thinking of Clara. Those innocent brown eyes, pouty lips and long legs are the stars of every fantasy I have. I feel myself harden as I think about what it would be like to press her up against this shower wall and taste every inch of her; how her body would react if I touched her and showed her what it’s like to be touched by a real man and not one of those Hollywood douche bags she’s always linked to. I stroke myself slowly and I think about how it’d feel to sink myself deep inside her and hear her sweet voice moan my name. I picture her wrapping those legs around me as I grab on to her tight ass and pump myself into her. I lose it with the sound of her name on my lips, imagining myself spilling deep inside her, making her round with our child.
“Shit.” I groan, my breath coming in shallow pants as I finish up in the shower.
I’m pulling on some clean clothes, when I hear Emma begin to cry on the other end of the baby monitor. I hurry up and settle in for another long night.
***
I finally get Emma settled. She was up all night, only sleeping for twenty to thirty minute stretches at a time. I grab the morning paper, and flip the switch on the coffee pot that Clara preset for me before she left last night. I lay my head in my hands while I wait for the coffee to brew…
It’s dark, the windows covered with some sort of tar coated make shift tarps, and it smells like a sewer. I can’t be sure how long I’ve been here. A few days? A week? Hell, maybe a month, I wouldn’t know. One hour has slipped into the next, leaving me with no concept of time. I do know that I’ve been beaten, water boarded, stabbed and now they are onto their newest form of fun… sleep deprivation. I told them everything I could, everything I planned on saying and I won’t say more. I know I said more than I should have already and it wasn’t right, but it was necessary and everything I’m willing to give. It was either spew useless shit that sounds good, or screw over forty-seven of my men. Not gonna happen.
I’ve been working on loosening these ropes around my wrists for what seems like forever, and finally I feel the frayed end loosen enough to withdraw my right hand. In the dark I can’t see much, but I know I’m not alone. I’m always guarded. I’m the prized feather in their terrorist caps, and they aren’t about to let me go unless it’s in a body bag or as a human meat bomb.
I slowly pull my other raw and bloodied wrist from its rope imprisonment and lean forward slowly, just enough to help loosen my feet from the rungs that they are tied to. I don’t know how badly I’m injured and it doesn’t matter at this point. It’s either risk it or die, and right now my men are counting on me. I dare not make a sound or breathe as I slowly shift in my seat, poising myself for attack. Outside the door, I hear a few muffled shouts, American, I think…and the sound of gunshots a little beyond that. I don’t know what is on the oth
er side of that door. I had a bag placed on my head when I was captured, and now I only know this place – this room.
I hear more footsteps and I count down, steeling myself for a fight, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It’s now or never. If I die, I die. I know if I don’t try, I’m going to die either way, and I’d rather do it fighting and not tied to a chair. Three, two, one… I hear the latch open on the door and shut, and I spring into action, propelling myself towards the bastards that put me here.
“Flynn!” a choked female voice cries out, and suddenly I’m no longer in a dark, dirt packed room, but my kitchen as the morning light filters in through the glass door to which I have Clara pinned to by her throat.
“Flynn…” She squeaks, her terrified brown eyes widening and her face turning a dark shade of red as she claws at my arm struggling to free herself from my grip as her feet dangle helplessly above the floor.
I drop my hand immediately as she crumples to the floor coughing and struggling for her next breath.
“Shit, baby. I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” I fall to the floor and try to scoop her up into my arms, but she bats me away looking at me through watery eyes. She’s looking at me like I’m a monster and my heart stops. I see the bruising fingerprints that now circle her neck like a tattooed collar.
“What the fuck, Flynn?” she curses with a throaty, hoarse voice. I don’t think I’ve heard her mutter a curse word that wasn’t damn or hell.
“Angel, I don’t know. Oh my God. I was dreaming and it was like I was there again… shit. Clara, look at me. Please.” I plead. She looks up, her eyes still watering whether from tears or from coughing, I don’t know.
“Come here.” I say leaning my back against the door, and holding my arms wide. She regards me with troubled eyes as if she is fighting with herself internally on whether she should trust me or not. “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear on my life, Clara. I would never intentionally lay a finger on you.”
She hesitates before crawling across the floor to my side. I don’t waste a second before I pull her up and place her in my lap, tucking her head in my neck. I feel her inhale deeply, and I do the same soaking up the way her petite body feels curled up in my lap and the way she smells like clean shampoo, expensive perfume, and something uniquely feminine.
“I’m so sorry.” I whisper into the top of her head, before placing a gentle kiss there.
“You keep saying that.”
“I know, but you have no idea. I would never hurt you.”
She tenses as if she is about to speak, but stops.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You said you were back there. Where’s there?”
“Deployed… Afghanistan mainly. I was a Major, in the Army. We were part of an explosives unit. Although, much of our time was spent defending villages. My last tour ended just before Erica told me she was pregnant with Emma. It was actually at my coming home party that we… well that Emma was made.” I say, and she nods as if she understands.
I don’t feel like I can just leave it at that, so explain to her about debriefing and what they said, and the kinds of things that I am struggling with save for the grizzlier details. She never says a word as she listens intently, rubbing gentle, soothing motions on my chest when I speak briefly of my capture and some of the things I saw.
CLARA:
Am I scared? A little, but not necessarily of Flynn. More so of the things that he is capable of if he has another episode. He finishes talking, and we sit in silence for a second.
“I think you should see someone about this, Flynn.” I finally find my voice.
He tenses up beneath me.
“I don’t need to talk with anyone, angel. I just need more time.”
“Flynn, it’s been a year, and if you are still having such strong…moments, then there is a very real possibility you might need some additional help.” I say a little more firmly.
“Clara, I’m fine. I won’t let it happen again. There’s a balance to it, and I just need to find it.” he pushes back.
“What about Emma? What if she needs you, and you aren’t in here, but over there?” I ask, tapping my finger on the side of his head.
“Clara. Enough. I said, I’m fine. Emma is fine.” He says with more finality.
Suddenly the position we are in feels far too intimate, and I need to remove myself before I start having more thoughts about him. Like the thoughts I had last night as I laid in bed fantasizing what it would be like to have his hungry eyes and mouth roam over every square inch of my body. Fantasy is all it is because I honestly have no real experience to compare it to. Living the life I live, it is hard to find time for a relationship, let alone one that is of any real substance. And there was certainly no way in hell I was going to just give it up to any man that came knocking on my door. So, I let the Hollywood gossip go, and let the world think about me what they wanted, because lord knows they were going to anyways. That is how I managed to be twenty-five and still a virgin. Am I a prude? Hell no! I watch porn and have plenty of impure thoughts pass through my mind as I touch myself, but I just don’t see anything wrong with waiting for love to lose it.
I scramble to stand.
“How’s Emma?” I put a few steps between us and school my tone to sound cool, unaffected.
“Clara…” Flynn starts, standing up. I know he thinks I’m mad at him. Letting him think that is much easier than him knowing what was just running through my mind.
I hold my hands out to stop his advance. He looks at me like I just crushed his soul, and he goes to fill up a cup of coffee.
I have never seen anyone look so lost in their own home, as Flynn does in this moment.
I need to focus on my job here, and I think I need to be alone for a second. I’m still reeling from what just happened and everything he told me. I let myself in, just like he told me to do, and within a second he was on me. His eyes were completely open and looking at me, but not. I can’t really describe it in any other way. It was intense, and I knew he wasn’t with me in that moment. He was looking at me, but not seeing me. I knew immediately he wasn’t doing it intentionally.
“She was up every thirty minutes or so. Neither of us got a whole lot of sleep. I had apparently dozed off when you came in.” he says, finally giving me the answer I was looking for.
For the first time the conversation between Flynn and I is awkward, and I don’t know how to fix it.
***
Throughout the day, Flynn keeps his distance. He takes a much-needed nap, and gets a little work done in his office while Emma naps and I clean up the house a little bit. He scolds me for doing so, claiming that I don’t need to clean up his messes, but in all honesty I need to. I need to keep my hands and my mind busy because one of two things are going to happen. I’m either going to tackle that man and kiss him crazy, or I’m going to pick a fight and push him to get some help for his issues. I don’t miss how he keeps looking at the marks on my neck with a mixture of anger and regret and the apologies he keeps trying to mutter every time I’m within ear shot. I know it isn’t his fault, and I know he wouldn’t hurt me or Emma intentionally… I suppose it is just the simple fact that he is willing to risk it at all, that pisses me off.
I did a lot of research on routines and newborns. Everyone on the mommy blogs swore by it, but so far, I’m finding no validity in it whatsoever. It’s only been five days since we’ve been home and a week since she made her appearance, but I’m calling bullshit on newborn sleep training.
The only thing we’re training for here is auditions for The Walking Dead, because that’s what we look like being sleep deprived.
“Come on baby girl. Let’s lay down for a while.” I say to Emma as I lay back on the couch. I pull all the pillows up to create a barrier around us, making it impossible for either of us to roll or fall. I lay her belly down on my chest. She roots around for a moment on my bare chest, searching for something I can’t give her, and I give her a pacifier instead. Within
minutes, her eyes close and so do mine as we drift off together.
I feel something warm cover me, and a finger touch my cheek. My eyes flutter open to find Flynn perched on the edge of the couch with Emma in his arms, staring down at me. I see he’s covered me up with a soft blanket.
“Hey.” He smiles softly.
“Hey.” I reply, not being able to help the smile that tugs at my own lips.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. It was just about dinner time, and I didn’t want Emma to nap too long. She sleeps better on you.”
“What can I say? I’m magic.” I say with a flourish of my hands.
“You’re certainly something special.” He says, looking at me with a look I haven’t seen before and it’s hard to put my finger on.
“About earlier…” he starts, cupping my cheek, but I shake my head not wanting to ruin the tender moment. Later I will analyze whether or not I should’ve pushed harder, but right now all I want is Flynn Alexander looking at me like I’m his home.
He catches me off guard when he places a soft kiss at the corner of my lips and stands.
“I’ll take care of dinner.” He says, heading to the kitchen and leaving me alone on the couch feeling like someone just flipped the breaker switch on inside my heart.
11
FLYNN:
“Alright little girl, Daddy can’t cook. I can grill though. Do you want steak?” I make a silly face at Emma who is in her portable swing in the kitchen, and she gurgles and kicks her legs wildly looking all around her with those big blue eyes.
“You looking for Clara, little girl?” I squat down, tickling her feet.
“I know, sweetheart. I miss her when she’s not here too.” Clara has been amazing these past couple of weeks or so, and this house feels empty without her.
I stand to search through the fridge, and the doorbell rings. I walk to the front door and open it to my Uncle Mitch and Aunt Irene holding a casserole dish. They smile widely, and she holds it up like it is a prize she just won.