Sugar Baby Lies

by C. S. Janey

  “If she didn’t get good grades, would you find her stupid?”

  “No!”

  He grinned down at me. “Explain to me why you feel yourself to be stupid then?”

  “I—you—“ I glared at him. “It’s not the same.”

  “Want to know why I continued to like you, to the point I asked you to marry me, Lucille?”

  “As if you wouldn’t tell me anyway even if I said no?”

  “Yes.” He laughed. “See, you’re smart. And funny. You’re a great parent, you take care of your mother, and you never let anything get you down. And you think of others before yourself. If anything, I question why you’re with me and said yes to my proposal.”

  I opened my mouth to object but then he grinned, and I knew he merely teased me.

  After that, his lips dropped to cover mine, ending the conversation with something way more sweet than any words could convey.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I paced the hallway.

  So far, we’d been married two months and everything had gone smoothly.

  Annalina was in her new school and loving it. I didn’t have any worries and Bradley treated all of us — including my mother, whose attitude had softened considerably since the wedding — extremely well. He wasn’t always home for dinner and his schedule was unpredictable, but to me, we were very much a family.

  But right then, I was worried out of my mind about where he could possibly be. It was past midnight and I hadn’t heard a word. And just as I decided to pick up the phone and call Roger to see if he knew where Bradley could possibly be at this hour, the door opened and in stumbled my husband.

  Drunk, too, if the strong smell of liquor was any indication.

  “Bradley!” I rushed over as he closed the door, in case he needed my help. “Where’ve you been? And how’d you get home?”

  He looked up and the first thing I noticed was his red eyes, as if he’d been crying. He rubbed a hand down his face and stared at me for a moment.

  “Just let me be,” he finally said softly, but there was an edge to his words. “Go to bed.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and blocked his path. “No. You smell like a damned liquor factory. You didn’t drive home, did you?”

  “I’m not drunk, but no, I didn’t drive home. I’m not an idiot.”

  “You smell like you should be drunk. What did you do, bathe in it?”

  A ghost of a smile before he scowled. “What if I did?”

  “I don’t know what’s so funny about this! I’ve been worried sick.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a growl of frustration. “Nothing. I spilled a drink, all right? Now leave me be. Just because we got married doesn’t mean you can pester me.”

  “Oh yes,” I said, keeping my tone light even though his words stung. “How silly of me to expect you to at least let me know you are okay. I married you, just so I could be here and you could be out doing things without even telling me where you are. You wanted this marriage, Bradley. You do recall that, don’t you?”

  “And you didn’t?” His voice got a bit louder as he leaned in. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want this more than I did.”

  I threw my hands up, backing away from the overpowering smell of alcohol. “Why are you trying to pick a fight with me? I’ve done everything you asked and I’ve not said a word.”

  He gently pushed me aside and stalked past, but I was right on his heels.

  “I don’t want to fight, Bradley! I just want to know what is wrong.”

  “Will you get me some water, please?”

  We had entered the bedroom and he started unbuttoning his shirt. The question was soft, his voice rough as he faced away from me. I left to do as he asked and when I returned with the water, he was sitting in the window seat, shirtless with one leg drawn up as he stared out into the night.

  He looked so vulnerable, it made my heart clench with anxiety. In all the time since we’d first met, I’d never seen him like this. I handed him the glass and he didn’t look at me before drinking. It was silent for a few moments, but I didn’t dare move or breathe. Finally, he lowered the glass and spoke, still avoiding my gaze, which I knew were filled with my concern for him in that moment.

  “Twenty years ago, I had just started my final year of med school and I met Roger. He invited me to go out with him one night, and there, we met his girlfriend Amanda. She’d brought along a friend, Rebecca. She was beautiful and I knew almost immediately that she was the one for me. We hit it off and exchanged phone numbers.”

  His words were low, yet steady. He didn’t look at me before continuing.

  “We dated for less than a year before I proposed. I ended up getting a residency right where we were located, which thrilled Rebecca because she wanted all of her family to come to the wedding. They did. We got married on the anniversary of our first date and everything was great.

  “She was a teacher and got a job working at the nearby Elementary school. She loved working with kids and talked about how much she’d love to have children with me. We decided to wait though. Even with her income and the money I made during residency, I simply didn’t want to stress our finances. I told her we’d save for a downpayment on a house so once I was done with residency and fellowship, we’d have a home. Then we could have a baby. But then, three years into our marriage, she ended up pregnant.

  “I was so angry with her. I accused her of deliberately going against my wishes. She told me that it wasn’t just me in this relationship and why should we wait until I’d gotten a permanent job before we had a baby? Of course, there was nothing I could do then, so I just accepted it. But we spent most of the pregnancy mad at each other. Then, my son was born.”

  He paused, taking a deep breath and I felt the need to do the same. Bradley has a son, ran through my head over and over. But I didn’t ask where he was. I had a bad feeling I was about to find out.

  “I worked a lot. She had to put him in daycare at six weeks to go back to work and she hated every moment of it. She moaned and whined about not being able to spend time with the baby, and in my anger, I told her it was her own damned fault. That I told her we couldn’t afford to have a baby right now but she hadn’t listened.

  “Things calmed down for a little while. She got over having to work and I spent any free time I had with her and the baby. I knew she was depressed. I told her that she should see someone, but she refused. Sometimes I’d come home and the baby would be soaked under and she’d be sound asleep in the bed. When he was a year old, I had a year left of fellowship and excited that we had made it without too much trouble, she seemed to get happier. Soon I’d have a great job, we’d have a house and we already had a baby.

  “Months went by. Then, four months into my final year, I worked a particularly long week. I was exhausted and we began fighting again. She wanted me to help out more, telling me that she worked too and had to take care of the baby most of the time. I stormed out of the house, feeling guilty and tired and frustrated.”

  He looked over at me then. “What is the date today?”

  “November second, but you already know that.”

  He nodded before turning back at the window. “November second, thirteen years ago, is when I stormed out of the house. I spent hours away, trying to figure out what I could do to make things easier for her. My schedule was hectic and that wasn’t going to change. Roger and I brainstormed ways I could maybe alleviate things, including perhaps getting someone to come to the house to help my wife in the evenings when I had to work, so she could have a break.

  “I returned home, and the house was dark. It was near midnight, so I knew she would be in bed. I wasn’t ready to go to sleep so I went into the kitchen, made some food and watched some TV. About one a.m. I headed to bed. And that’s when I found her.”

  I felt ill. He was motionless, the look on his face far away, as if he’d forgotten I was there.

  “I’d been gone six hours, seven if you count the hour I
spent in the living room. She…” He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes as he brought up a hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “She’d hung herself. I immediately got her down and tried to get her back, even though I knew it was pointless. She was long gone. And as I picked up my phone to dial nine-one-one, I went to check on my son.

  “Later, I heard that call. I heard me entering his room, saying his name. I don’t know why I didn’t turn on the light, I barely remember finding him. But he was cold, so cold. I screamed ‘oh my god, they’re both dead’ and said it over and over again as the dispatcher tried to talk to me. I’d dropped the phone.”

  He met my eyes then, tears streaming down his face. “She killed our baby, smothered him. Then hung herself.”

  If my heart could have stopped, it would have right then. “Oh god, Bradley…” I didn’t know what to say, what to do. I wanted to touch him. Hug him.

  He looked back out the window. “They found me cradling them both.” He wiped his face before standing up, not looking at me as he headed toward the bed. “I need to get some sleep.”

  I watched as he lay down, facing away from me and saying nothing else.

  And I stood there, feeling as if my heart had just been shredded into a million pieces and not having a clue as to what to do next.

  ~*~

  I woke up the next morning cuddled against Bradley. We were spooning, his hand cradling my bare breast. I always went to bed nude, as that had always been his preference, and even though last night had revealed more to me of his past than I could have ever imagined existed, I wanted to please him all the same. I could tell he was still sleeping based on his slow, steady breathing against my neck, which when mixed with the hand on my breast, was turning me on.

  I wasn’t used to waking up this way. We must have unwittingly cuddled together in our sleep because I knew Bradley would never do so with awareness. He was a lot of things, but a person who cuddles was not one of them. However, I decided to take advantage of our current position.

  I wiggled a bit closer and his hand squeezed me, causing me to moan at the same time I realized he’d gotten naked at some point. When he chuckled, a waft of mint met my nose and I wondered when he got up to brush his teeth since he’d passed out the night before without doing so.

  “Bradley?” I whispered. “Are you—“

  “Don’t talk,” he said, cutting me off. “I don’t want to talk. I have something else in mind.”

  “But—“

  “No.” He covered my mouth with his other hand as he spoke softly into my ear. “Right now, I just want sex. Then, I’m going to get up and go into my office and make a few phone calls. I don’t want to talk about it, all right?”

  I wanted to shake my head. Tell him no. Make him talk to me. After all, the story he’d told me the previous evening had completely blown my mind. I was speechless then and at that exact moment, I still wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  What should one say when discovering that the person they love experienced such a tragedy? I’m sorry? Those words seemed so empty to me, so pointless. I had no doubt that he’d heard how sorry everyone was immediately following the death of his wife and their child; he didn’t need those empty words from me. So as much as I wanted to ask what his child’s name had been, I didn’t.

  Instead, I nodded. Because right then what he wanted — no, needed — from me was comfort, even if he’d never admit it.

  He removed his hand from my breast, pushing gently on my back until I lay on my stomach, my arms curved to rest above my head on the pillow. Freeing his other arm from under my neck, his body covered mine, those gorgeous arms of his supporting him just enough so he didn’t crush me, yet every inch of his body connected with mine.

  As he kissed my neck and shoulders, I closed my eyes and chose to revel completely in the feelings he evoked in me. Every kiss reminded me of what I meant to him — as well as what I didn’t. My position reminded me of my submissiveness — to him, to his desire, to the way he enjoyed things. I didn’t mind; I loved pleasing him, making him smile and laugh, hearing his moans in my ear as he found pleasure in me and with me.

  He nipped my shoulder and I gasped, shocking me out of my reverie.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “But the look on your face makes me want to be inside you this instant. An urge I’m not going to ignore.”

  My lips curved in a smile, although I kept my eyes shut and said nothing.

  Shifting all his weight to one arm, the other slid down the side of my body and under me. The touch of his hand on me had me instinctively swaying into his hand, a reaction he used to rock his body into mine, arousal evident. Seconds later he was inside me, his hand pleasuring me and torturing me all-in-one. The slow, teasing circles of his fingers alongside the long, deep strokes of him were delicious and inescapable in my position.

  I squirmed, trying to get closer — to bring him closer to me — and sobbed with frustration even as my release built up. But I concentrated, wanting his weight on me; all of it, ever single inch. So I lifted my head up, taking one hand and wrapped my hands around his hand — the one that he was holding himself up with — and tugged on it.

  “Lucy, what—“

  I slid my fingers into his, interlacing them as I put my head back down and slid our hands above my head. This automatically forced his body down on mine, trapping his other hand on me beneath our bodies. I bucked against his hand, causing him to groan and his captured hand to tighten on mine.

  “You got your connection, Bradley. I give it to you, freely,” I said, the words coming out in between strokes that came faster. “This is what I want; your weight, your hand in mine, because I…I…”

  I wanted to finish the sentence but the word stuck in my throat.

  “Say it, sweetheart.” The words sounded tortured. Or maybe I just thought they seemed that way because I was tortured. Either way, I couldn’t say it.

  I shook my head and he sped up, rubbing against me and overwhelming my senses in every single direction. His mouth right next to my ear, he murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear him.

  “Tell me,” he coaxed, his hand tightening painfully on mine. “You think I don’t know what you want? I always know, Lucille. I know exactly what you want to tell me, so just say it. It’s written all over your face, sweetheart.”

  “Damn you,” I said with a sob, my body splintering into a million pieces as I said the one thing I knew I shouldn’t. “I love you! I love you, Bradley.”

  With a few final strokes, he found his release and immediately removed his body from mine.

  But, instead of getting up and walking away as I feared he would, he pulled me into his arms, which resulted in my bursting into tears. Turning me around to face him, he did the one thing I never thought he’d do willingly.

  He cradled my head against his chest and stroked my hair as I wept.

  And, in that moment, I feared that nothing would ever be the same between us.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The two weeks following my confession to Bradley about loving him flew by.

  And contrary to what I thought, it didn’t seem to have changed anything between us.

  It shouldn’t have shocked me. After all, he had practically admitted to knowing all along.

  Bradley worked a lot. He always had. That would probably never change and he enjoyed his work.

  Hell, I loved that his work made him happy. It was his passion.

  I also couldn’t help wishing that his passion for me was similar; his love, too.

  Sometimes, when we did get to spend time together, it seemed like he did feel something more than a sincere desire to have me close by.

  He treated Annalina as his own, made sure we were all comfortable and happy, and seemed to relax into his new roles as husband, son-in-law, and stepfather.

  But I still worried about him.

  His confession had blown me away.

  I never would’ve guessed he had lost th
e woman he loved and their child in that fashion.

  I knew he’d been married previously, and now I know why he said he’d rather not say much more than ‘she ended it.’

  Understatement of the fucking year right there.

  He didn’t talk about it either. Even after that morning when I’d let it slide because of how raw he had seemed, I couldn’t manage to bring it up again. I knew enough to know he wouldn’t on his own again either.

  I didn’t know what to do though.

  But the information had told me one thing.

  This tragedy is exactly why he acted the way he did.

  It all made sense: the emotional distance, the lack of physical contact outside of sex, and being unable to really question his authority.

  He needed control and letting me get close made him vulnerable again.

  Problem was, he forgot one thing…marrying me had achieved exactly what he wished to avoid.

  Now, he had opened up his life and his home to me and my family.

  Something told me he didn’t really consider that when deciding he needed me closer and therefore, had to marry me to obtain his desired results.

  Which only made helping him deal with his grief — something I’m sure he believed he’d done but hadn’t — easier to manage.

  Problem was, I didn’t know where to begin.

  Good news for all of us that the beginning of the long road to healing came not long after from an unexpected source.

  His family.

  ~*~

  The sound of a phone ringing startled me.

  Jumping up, I went down the hallway toward the sound, unsure of where it came from. When I reached his office door, I paused and the phone stopped ringing.

  Bradley hadn’t left his cellphone here; he’d sent me a text just a few hours ago telling me he was working late. Did he have another cell or a house phone? Either way, I’d never seen or heard him on anything except the one I knew about.

  The phone rang again and thinking it must be someone trying to get ahold of him in an emergency, I entered the room and looked around until my eyes fell upon a cordless phone lighting up once more in an area of the room I’d never even walked close to. Rushing over, I picked it up and pressed the talk button, putting the phone up to my ear.