Protecting Her

by Allie Everhart

  “With his father,” she says.

  “Pearce is home? It’s only four o’clock.”

  “Jack sent him home early.” She hugs me. “I have to go. According to your husband, I have to meet Jack at some restaurant for drinks with a client and his wife.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course he doesn’t bother to give me any notice. That man. He drives me crazy.”

  I laugh. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  When we get to the living room, Pearce is there, holding Garret and talking to him. It’s so cute. I love watching them together. Pearce never uses baby-talk. He uses his formal, serious tone, like he’s talking to a business colleague. It’s very funny.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” He kisses me on my way to the door.

  “Hi.” I give him a flirtatious smile. He’s in his suit and tie and looks super hot, like he always does.

  We say goodbye to Martha and I close the door. “So you got off work early again?”

  “Yes.” He nods, smiling. “Jack doesn’t seem to believe in a full work day.”

  “I’m glad you’re home,” I hug his side, then turn to face him. “Oh, um, I hope you’re not mad, but I kind of agreed to have dinner at your parents’ house on Sunday night.”

  He looks surprised. “My parents invited us for dinner?”

  “Well, your mother did.”

  “Will my father be there?”

  “Yes,” I say, biting my lip. “Is that bad? Should I not have agreed to it? I don’t want you two fighting at dinner.”

  “We won’t fight. What time do we need to be there?”

  “Six-thirty. Dinner is at seven.”

  His brows rise. “Seven? That’s early for dinner. My parents usually eat at eight or eight-thirty.”

  “That was the original plan, but I didn’t want Garret out too late so I asked her if it could be earlier and she agreed to it.”

  “That just shows how much my mother likes you. If she didn’t, she’d never agree to have dinner that early.”

  I look down at Garret. His eyes are shut and his little head is tucked in the crook of Pearce’s elbow. “He fell asleep in your arms,” I say to Pearce.

  “He always does that. I must have comfortable arms.”

  “Why don’t you go put him in his crib?” I reach up and give Pearce a kiss as I slip my hand under his suit jacket and along his abs. “Then maybe you and I could meet in the bedroom.”

  He smiles. “I thought you weren’t able to do it yet.”

  “It’s been seven weeks. And I saw the doctor today and got the okay.”

  He smiles even wider. “I’m glad I came home early. Get upstairs. I’ll put the baby down. He better take a long nap.”

  I laugh as I run up the stairs. I’ve been dying to be with Pearce again. We didn’t do it the last month of my pregnancy so it’s been a long time.

  When Pearce comes in the bedroom, I’m waiting for him at the door in a black lace bra and matching panties. He looks me up and down, his eyes filled with desire.

  “You’re killing me, Rachel.” He shoves his jacket off and rips off his tie. “We may not even make it to the bed.”

  His hand moves to the side of my face as his mouth covers mine, giving me those slow sensual kisses of his that I love so much. He hasn’t given me those for a while because we both know they always lead to sex, and since we weren’t able to do it, they’d just get us worked up for nothing. But now, we can finally do it and I’m realizing how much I missed these kisses. His tongue sweeps over mine as his hand lowers to my breast, causing my whole body to come alive, an aching need building inside me.

  We finish undressing each other as we kiss, and then he asks, “Where do you want it?” His head dips down to kiss my shoulder. “The bed?” I close my eyes as I feel his warm breath by my ear. “The shower?” He kisses his way down my neck. “Against the wall?”

  I’m so turned on I can’t even remember the options. “They all sound good,” I whisper. “Just pick one.”

  He lifts me up and takes me to the bed. Normally he’d spend time caressing me, teasing me. But right now, there’s no time for that. It’s been too long. We’re both desperate for each other.

  He pushes inside me, breathing out at the feel of it while I softly moan. He moves slowly, worried he might hurt me. It’s sweet and caring and I love him for it, but he won’t hurt me. I’m fine. I lift my hips up, coaxing him to go faster. And when he does, I feel the build, the tension spiraling deep within my core, getting stronger as I anticipate the release. He thrusts harder and faster, and then it comes, unraveling inside me, over and over. Pearce comes at nearly the same time, his body shuddering from the release.

  We stay there, catching our breath.

  “We have gone way too long without doing that,” I say, breathing hard.

  “Believe me,” he says, hovering over me. “I have been counting the days since we could do this again.”

  “You have?” I smile.

  “You know I have.” He kisses me. “We’re doing it again later tonight.”

  “I can’t. The doctor said only once a week for the next month.” I try to act serious.

  “Really?” I feel his body sigh. “If I’d known that I would’ve made it last longer.”

  I laugh. “I’m kidding. We can do it as much as we want.”

  “That is not funny, Rachel.” He kisses my neck fast and quick, tickling me and making me laugh even more.

  The baby monitor goes off. Pearce sighs and rolls off me. “I guess we’re done.”

  I scoot off the bed. “I’ll get him.” I grab my robe and head to the door.

  As I’m leaving, I hear Pearce say, “Tell him he needs to take longer naps.”

  On Sunday night, as we’re on our way to Pearce’s parents’ house, I say, “Do I need to know anything before we get there? Any rules I should be aware of?”

  I’m joking, but he answers seriously. “Make sure you don’t have any dirt on your shoes that might show on the white tile. Never do anything yourself. Let the hired help do it. Don’t go looking for the bathroom, or any other room, by yourself. Always ask first. Don’t touch any of the artwork or sculptures or the glass tables. Don’t—”

  “Pearce, I was kidding. Are you telling me they really have that many rules?”

  “I was just getting started.” He turns down a street lined with big iron gates and tall green bushes.

  “Did you have to follow all those rules as a child?”

  “Of course. There were so many rules, my parents wrote them out so I’d remember them. One time my father even made me memorize them and recite them back to him.”

  “Nobody should have to follow that many rules, especially children, who naturally touch things. When Garret is older, he is not going to be forced to follow all those rules when he goes to his grandparents’ house.”

  “Then he probably won’t be going there. They’ll have to come to our house if they want to see him.” Pearce pulls up to a tall iron gate. “This is it.”

  He puts his window down and a voice comes out of the speaker box next to the gate. “Good evening, Mr. Kensington.”

  “Good evening.”

  The gate slowly opens and we drive down the long entrance road to the stone-covered mansion. The place is huge and sprawling.

  “Did you used to get lost living here?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yes. That happened several times when I was a young child. In fact two of my nannies were fired for it. They were supposed to keep track of me and ended up losing me in the house. My mother found me both times.”

  Pearce had such a different childhood than mine, or anyone’s, really. It’s amazing he turned out normal.

  “Let the man get your door,” he says as a man in a black suit comes up to the car. I wait for him to open it.

  “Welcome,” he says, taking my hand to help me out. Is this really necessary? Do Eleanor and Holton really need people on staff to help them get out of their car?

  There’s ano
ther man on Pearce’s side, holding the car door while Pearce gets Garret out of the back seat. He meets me on the other side and we walk to the door as one of the men drives our car around to the back of the house.

  Pearce rings the doorbell and a woman in a maid’s uniform answers. “Hello, sir.” She bows slightly to Pearce. “Madam,” she says to me.

  She shows us to the living room, and as we’re walking I realize I forgot to check my shoes for dirt. I check the white tiles behind me. They look clean and shiny. I glance up and almost run right into a statue. It’s just a tall marble rectangle but it probably cost a fortune. There are big statues everywhere I look and large paintings on the walls.

  “Pearce. Rachel.” Eleanor comes up to us. “I’m pleased you could make it.”

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Pearce says as she gives him a shoulder hug. Eleanor doesn’t give full hugs. It’s shoulders only and it’s always quick. She gives me the same type of hug, and as she’s doing so, I see Holton coming up behind her.

  “Pearce,” he says, holding his hand out.

  “Father.” Pearce shakes his hand.

  I do not understand this odd relationship they have. They act as though they just talked last week, when in fact they haven’t talked in over a year.

  “Hello, Holton,” I say, since he didn’t acknowledge me.

  He just nods. He has the same scowl on his face that he had the last time I saw him. I guess it’s permanent.

  “Holton, meet your grandson,” Eleanor says, nudging Holton to the baby carrier that Pearce is holding.

  He steps up, glances at the baby, then steps back again, next to Eleanor. That’s it? This is the first time he’s seeing his grandson and he just takes a quick glance at him? It infuriates me.

  I pick Garret up and hold him. Now I regret coming here. I thought this would be a fresh start. I thought Holton might accept us now that Pearce and I have a child together, but he’s just as cold and awful as always. And this house is cold and uncomfortable. I just want to leave.

  Garret seems to agree. He starts fussing and then he cries. Holton glares at him, as if babies shouldn’t cry. It angers me even more.

  “It’s okay,” I say to Garret, bouncing him a little.

  “Let’s take him upstairs,” Eleanor says, sensing Holton’s temper rising the more the baby cries.

  “What’s upstairs?” I ask.

  She smiles as she leads me to the stairs. “I set up a nursery for when he comes over.”

  A nursery? Here? I don’t think I like that. Garret is not going to be over here enough to need a nursery.

  I look back at Pearce and he nods at me to go along with it. I go up the long winding staircase to the upper level. It’s huge. There must be at least ten rooms up here. Eleanor shows me to one that’s halfway down the hall. The room has cream-colored walls and a dark wood crib and matching changing table. There’s a light-blue upholstered rocking chair off to the side.

  “You could add your own personal touches if you’d like,” she says. “I simple bought the furniture. We weren’t using this room, so I converted it to a nursery so that Garret would have a place to sleep if you and Pearce ever stay here overnight, or want us to babysit.”

  She smiles, and I see that she’s just being nice. At first, I thought she was being controlling, assuming I’d let her keep Garret overnight, or longer than that. I’m so used to both her and Holton trying to control everything. But I think she’s just trying to be helpful.

  “If you need to change him, there are diapers and other supplies on the changing table.”

  “Thank you, but he’s fine.” I hold him against my chest. He stopped crying as soon as we got away from Holton.

  “Go ahead and put him down,” she says. “We’ll join the men for cocktails.”

  “Oh, um, I don’t want to leave him up here. I’ll just take him downstairs.”

  “This evening is for adults. The baby can stay up here. He’ll be fine. I’ll have the maid check on him.”

  “No.” I hold Garret even closer. “I’m sorry, but he needs to be with me. I’m not leaving him up here.”

  She rests her hand on my arm. “Rachel, I know as a new mother it’s hard to detach yourself from your child, but it’s just for a few hours. Certainly you can be apart from him for a few hours. He’ll be right here. You can check on him whenever you’d like.”

  Why is she pushing me to do this? I don’t want him up here all alone in this cold, stark room. He’ll be scared and lonely. And I don’t want the maid checking on him. I don’t even know the maid.

  “Eleanor, I appreciate you setting up the nursery, but I need to keep him with me. If it ruins your dinner, then maybe we should leave.”

  “No. Of course not. We’ll try to make it work.”

  Make what work? Dinner? Why wouldn’t it work?

  We go back down the stairs. Pearce and his father are no longer in the foyer.

  “Right this way.” Eleanor takes me down a long hallway to a very large dining room. There’s a bar in the back, complete with a bartender. Pearce and Holton are there, having a drink.

  Holton eyes the baby. “I thought we were having cocktails, Eleanor.”

  She fakes a smile. “We are. I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

  “And you?” Holton asks, refusing once again to use my name.

  “Nothing for me.”

  Pearce wraps his arm around me. “Are you sure? There’s sparkling water, soda, anything you’d like.”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Holton coughs and takes a drink. Then he coughs again, repeatedly.

  “Do you have a cold?” I ask him, not wanting him around Garret if he’s sick.

  “He’s not sick,” Eleanor says. “Something’s just been irritating his throat lately.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?” Pearce asks him.

  “I’m going this week,” he says.

  Eleanor smiles. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Shall we go sit down?”

  She leads us to the formal living room that’s just off the dining room. Pearce and I seat ourselves on the beige sofa and his parents sit across from us in high-backed upholstered chairs, then everyone, except me, has their drinks. Holton keeps giving me annoyed looks for having the baby here, but I don’t care. This is a huge house and I feel like Garret would be miles away up in that nursery.

  At seven, a man in a white shirt, black vest, and black pants, who I’m guessing is our server, comes in and announces that dinner is ready.

  “Could you go get the baby carrier?” I ask Pearce.

  “Mother said there’s a crib upstairs. He can be up there while we have dinner.”

  “I don’t want him up there,” I say quietly, but Holton hears, and I swear he almost rolls his eyes. “I’d rather have him here with us.”

  Pearce senses my anxiousness and says, “I’ll go get it.”

  During dinner, Garret sleeps quietly in his baby carrier, which I put on the chair next to me. Holton and Eleanor are at the ends of the table and can’t even see the baby from there so they have no reason to complain.

  “How is your job, Pearce?” Holton asks.

  So far, the dinner conversation has been mostly about Kensington Chemical. Holton has monopolized the conversation, mainly just talking to Pearce. I tried to ask Holton a question, pretending to act interested in what he was saying, but he interrupted me, acting like he didn’t hear me.

  “The job keeps me busy,” Pearce says, purposely being vague. He doesn’t want to talk about his job with his father because he knows Holton will just find fault with it. Pearce said his father hates Jack.

  When dessert is served, Pearce tries to include me in the conversation. “Rachel, tell my parents how you’re teaching Garret to swim.”

  “He’s not really swimming,” I say. “I’m just getting him used to the water.”

  “Rachel used to swim in college. She’s very good. She has several medals and trophies.”

  There’s
a loud ringing noise and Pearce quickly gets up and takes out his phone. It’s the cell phone he uses for work.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says, racing out of the room.

  Why is he answering his phone during dinner? Surely his parents don’t approve of that. But they don’t seem angry. They’re calmly eating their dessert as if the phone call didn’t happen.

  “Did you enjoy the meal?” Eleanor asks me.

  “Yes. It was very good.” I’m just being polite. It wasn’t very good. I’m not even sure what I ate. The main course was some type of meat but it wasn’t beef, chicken, or pork. At least the dessert is good. It’s a chocolate torte with raspberry filling.

  We finish our dessert in silence, and when we’re done, Pearce finally comes back. He’s walking really fast and looks stressed.

  “Is something wrong at work?” I ask him.

  His father chuckles. “Yes, Pearce, tell us. Did the boss give you a difficult assignment?”

  Pearce clears his throat. “It’s nothing, but we do need to go. It’s late and we need to get Garret to bed.”

  I point to his plate. “What about your dessert?”

  “He doesn’t eat dessert,” Eleanor says. “But we always serve it to him anyway.”

  “You didn’t know your husband doesn’t eat dessert?” Holton smirks. “I wonder what else you don’t know about him.” He chuckles again.

  The man never laughs or smiles, so he’s obviously trying to tell me something, or he’s just being rude. Either way, I’m ready to leave. This has been a long evening.

  “Will you be coming for dinner next Sunday as well?” Eleanor asks. She looks desperate for me to say yes. She clearly wants to reunite the family and I feel like I should make an effort to help her, even though I dislike Holton.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to make it,” Pearce says, since I didn’t answer.

  “Maybe you could come to our house next week,” I offer. “I’m happy to make dinner. Maybe on Friday night?”

  “Fine.” Eleanor glances at Holton, who’s mumbling something under his breath. “Holton and I will be there next week for dinner. What time should we arrive?”

  “Let’s say seven. That’s usually when Garret goes to sleep so it’ll be a good time to have dinner.”