Regret Me Not

by Danielle Sibarium

  "You okay?" he asks jiggling my hand.

  I nod and yawn, "Just tired."

  "Don't tell me you're going to use the 'I'm too tired excuse already.'"

  I smile, "No. No excuses."

  I allow myself to drift off to that alluring place where you're not quite awake, not quite asleep.

  "Wake up sleepy head," Brayden's fingers brush my cheek. My eyes flutter open to his smile as he leans close to me. I can't imagine waking to anything I want to see more than the love in his eyes. "We're here."

  I look around, I know where we are, sort of. The large hotel sits in front of the boardwalk. We're somewhere at the shore.

  "I guess beachfront rooms aren't so expensive in the winter."

  "I don't care where we are, only that we're here together."

  "Come on," He opens the driver side door, stands, and reaches in the back for the overnight bag we threw together before leaving. He catches me staring at him as he slings it over his shoulder. "What's up? Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "Like what?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "A year ago I thought I knew what happiness was . . ."

  "Careful, we were together a year ago."

  I shove his arm, "I know that wise guy. The point is, last year, as happy as I was, I was also sort of waiting for it to be ripped away from me. I didn't think it got any better, and now, I know I'm going to be happy every day of my life because I get to spend it with you."

  *

  Once he opens the door, I move to step inside, but Brayden's grip on my arm stops me. He tosses our overnight bag in front of the door and scoops me up into his arms. I squeal as I wrap my arms around his neck.

  "It may not be our home, but I'm still carrying you over the threshold."

  Alone in the room at last, and back on my feet, Brayden picks our bag up and tosses it on the desk. I look around the room, it's small, but it's ours, at least until eleven AM tomorrow. I open the blinds and look at our tiny balcony. The waves are crashing against the sand.

  "This is beautiful," I yawn.

  He steps in front of me, his hands on my hips. "You are going to use the I'm too tired excuse aren't you?"

  I flutter my lashes at him as I pull his jacket down, off his shoulders, "Don't project your unconscious desires onto me."

  "Using psychobabble will get you nowhere."

  "Psychobabble?" I pretend to be insulted.

  "Don't act so innocent." He pulls down the long zipper in the back of the dress while I work on his shirt buttons. "You know exactly what you do to me, whether it's undressing me with your eyes, or filling my head with images of you in scantily dressed clothes . . ."

  "Back up! When did I ever fill your head with images . . ."

  His mouth covers mine. "Right now," he whispers. "Every time you touch me, I'm picturing what you have on under that dress."

  Like a tidal wave, I feel heat rush through my body. I let my eyes soak in his now topless form. Our eyes meet.

  "Like what you see, Mrs. Turner?" He asks while I play with the tie still hung around his neck.

  His words sink in. Mrs. Turner. It's the first time I hear it, and the sound intoxicates me. I'm his wife. That's not temporary, not a fleeting title given only for the here and now. It's forever.

  "Very much Mr. Turner. And I must say, I'm the luckiest girl in the world having such a lovely piece of eye candy to wake up to every morning."

  "Eye candy? Is that what I am to you?" He takes a small step closer, so there is no longer any space between us. As he advances, I retreat.

  I nod, "Very, very sweet eye candy I might add."

  "Oh yeah?" He sweeps me up into his arms.

  Afraid he's going to toss me on the bed I squeal, "Brayden, no! The baby."

  The playfulness in his eyes changes to concern as he gently settles me down.

  Brayden stands to his full length and runs a hand through his hair. I can see something weighing on him.

  "Um, Kenzie, did you ask your doctor if it's safe to . . . You know?"

  I shake my head. "No. I only went to her once and since you still weren't talking to me, there was no reason to ask, and everything's happened so fast, I didn't think of it."

  He nods and pulls out his phone.

  "What are you doing?" I get up on my knees and tug on his tie, pulling him down to the bed. He sits on the edge and searches the Internet.

  "I'm just checking. I want to make sure . . ."

  "You don't really think it’s a problem do you?"

  He shakes his head, "I doubt it. If people had to go nine months without sex, I think the world would be a lot less populated."

  "Probably. It has to be safe." I get behind him and dig my fingers into the muscles in his shoulders. While massaging him I plant gentle kisses along the ridges of his shoulders. A soft sound leaves his lips as he speaks my name.

  "Kenzie."

  "Brayden, do you think your father would've went out of his way to do this for us if it wasn't safe?"

  He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe he was trying to teach us some sort of lesson."

  "It's fine," I whisper before clasping his earlobe between my teeth.

  Taking hold of my hands, he pulls me around so I'm next to him. His eyes are dark and smoldering. "Promise you'll tell me if it hurts."

  "I promise."

  He lifts my dress, over my head. I feel like he took all my courage off with it. I swallow hard, afraid he won't like the subtle rounding of my stomach. I know its still slight, but its definitely noticeable with my clothes off. I don't know if he has a clue how insecure I feel, but he lays me down, and touches his lips to the area just below my belly button.

  "You're the most beautiful woman in the world, Mackenzie Turner. And I'm so lucky I get to spend every day of my life making sure you know that."

  The breath I'm holding is released and along with it, the jumbled mess of fear, anxiety and stress in my shoulders. I wonder how he knows that's exactly what I need to hear.

  My skin is covered with tiny bumps. I'm not cold, in fact I'm hot, but when his finger tips graze my skin to finish undressing me, my body reacts. I watch him undo his tie and pants, his eyes never leaving mine, and my pulse picks up speed as he climbs in bed next to me.

  I feel his mouth on my breast, the nipple clasped between his teeth; my back arches toward him as my fingers grasp his hair. My hunger for him grows with thoughts of having him inside me. He climbs on top, careful to rest his weight on his forearms instead of me.

  "Don't ever leave me, Mrs. Turner," he whispers in my ear.

  "Never, Brayden. Never again."

  His mouth takes over. It possesses mine, and once again he takes me to a place, where only we exist. No problems. No fears. Nothing but the deep-down-soul-binding-connection we feel when we come together. For the moment, no more words are spoken. There's nothing but the fireworks between us as they screech and explode in the sky.

  *

  When it's over, I lean my head against Brayden's chest. His arm is around me, stroking my shoulder. I know I've tasted a piece of Heaven. I close my eyes, breathing him in, thinking this is how it's going to be from now on. There's no more need to rush into our clothes and pretend it didn't happen. We're free to lie in bed, skin to skin, and hold each other. This new found contentedness makes my stomach flutter.

  I sit up and gasp with realization.

  "What's wrong?" He shoots up beside me, a worried look on his face.

  Without answering I smile and place his hand on my stomach. It's not Brayden or any imaginary butterflies I feel fluttering in my belly, it's our baby.

  "Can you feel it?"

  It already stopped, but I'm hoping if he keeps his hand there, our little alien will cooperate. I'll remember this moment forever; there will be no mistaking when or where it happened. I take it as a sign of approval. Our little munchkin is as happy as I am that we're now truly a family. I want to jump up and down, this is the first time I feel the baby move. It's the
most perfect day of my life, and I can't imagine things getting any better than this.

  We stay like this, sitting, talking, with his hand on my belly for some time. I don't know how long, all I know is once he hears my stomach growl, Brayden insists we order room service. Knowing this is the most privacy we'll have for a while, neither of us wants to leave the room or the bed.

  *

  Sunlight spills through the window and stirs me. I flutter my eyes open. Stupid sun, why couldn't it stay down? Brayden's knuckles brush my cheek, and I forget I'm annoyed to be up.

  "I didn't hog the bed or the covers did I?" he asks.

  I realize I'm at the edge. I scoot over so that I'm leaning against him. "I don't know, I was too busy sleeping. Are these habits of yours I should I worry about?"

  He shrugs, "I don't know. Last night was a first for me. You just seemed so far away."

  I close my eyes and nuzzle into his chest.

  "We should get cleaned up and get going."

  I moan, "I'd rather stay where we are."

  "I know, me too, but we have a lot to do today."

  "Like?"

  "Like I need to pick some things up from home. At least a few day’s worth of clothes, my laptop, things like that."

  "Can you bring a few of your posters, too? I want you to feel at home."

  "You're just hoping I bring the one of Tebow."

  "Well, duh."

  He rolls me onto my back and cages me between him and the bed, "Forget him. You're all mine, Mackenzie Turner, for ever and ever."

  Chapter 21

  Reality

  The bubble of joyful bliss I'm riding on pops minutes after we get home. First we stop at Brayden's parent’s house. The visit is short, but full of tension. I plan on following him in his room and helping, or at least just being with him, but his mother seems to have other plans.

  "Please sit." She directs me while pouring me a glass of water.

  I don't want to upset her, after all, she's now as much a permanent fixture in my life as Brayden and I realize the relationship will ride much smoother if I appease her. Like a good girl, I take a seat at the kitchen table. I know I have no reason to be, but I'm nervous. We've never really hit it off, and now that I'm her daughter-in-law, I really want her to like me.

  "Mackenzie, I know there's still plenty of time, but it's never too early to start planning. Do you have any idea where you want to have the baptism?"

  I clear my throat, stalling for time. Baptism? "We haven't spoken about it."

  "I understand, and I'm not thinking of a big party, but since the wedding was so rushed, I'd really like to invite our family. I can't tell you how disappointed Brayden's grandparents are. Especially my mother, she practically raised him in those early years."

  Anxiety rushes through me as she continues to ramble. While I would love to meet the rest of Brayden's family, I haven't thought about any of this. The upcoming semester at school is weighing on me and how my parents are going to react tonight when Brayden and I sleep in the same bed; how the hell am I supposed to be thinking about something so far away?

  "And I know Ursula isn't really popular these days, but it was my grandmother's name, so if you'd at least consider it-"

  "Mom!" Brayden scolds. "Back off!"

  "Sweetheart, we're just having a friendly discussion. Isn't that right, Mackenzie?"

  I nod, afraid to open my mouth and say anything to the contrary.

  "You promised you wouldn't interfere."

  "I'm not. I'm simply suggesting a name." She turns her attention back to me, "Mackenzie, dear, are you sure you're comfortable with your doctor, perhaps you'd consider going to see mine. If I call him, I'm sure he can get you in right away. Actually, that would be sort of ironic, since he's the doctor that delivered Brayden."

  "No, thank you," I answer, as if she just offered me a glass of lemonade. My eyes fall on the suitcase at Brayden's side, and I seriously hope he packed away everything he needs. If not, he'll have to come back by himself. I don't want to have to brave another conversation with his mother for at least a few days.

  *

  Things aren't any easier when we get back to my house. We're greeted home by shouting coming from the basement.

  "No, no, no. You're doing it all wrong!" my father shouts, although I'm not sure who he's shouting at.

  "How can I be doing it wrong? I'm sorting nails and screws, I think I know the difference between them," Jessica shouts back.

  "I should've known asking you for help would be a waste of time. You're supposed to be sorting the different sizes as well."

  "That's not what you told me to do."

  Brayden leans into me and keeps his voice low, "Has your father ever built anything before?"

  I shrug my shoulders, "Not that I know of."

  I read the look on his face, certain it matches what's running through my head. This is bound to be fun.

  "Let's go bring the bags upstairs, then you can empty out a couple of draws for me while I head down to the dungeon."

  "I want to come help, too."

  Brayden kisses the top of my head, "Not yet. Let me go by myself, I don't want your father to upset you."

  "He won't. I can't let you . . ."

  He kisses me to shut me up. It works for a minute.

  "Stay. Up. Here."

  "Since when are you so bossy?" I asked.

  "Since I decided to stop letting you call the shots," he winks at me, and with the bags in hand heads up to my room.

  *

  I look around the room I grew up in. How am I going to share this room with Brayden? My parents sleep right next door; we share a wall. Just thinking of it makes me nervous. I know we're married, but being in this room, I still feel like a little girl. He puts the bag he brought from home on top of the bed and rummages through it for an old pair of jeans.

  "Where are you going?" I ask as he heads out the door, clothes in hand.

  "To change."

  "Why not change in here?"

  He grins, a devilish look on his face, "I think this is a better idea for right now, otherwise, we might get distracted," his eyes move up and down my body.

  "Okay, fine," I pout.

  Brayden changes quickly and heads down to the basement. I don't know if things are going any better down there or I just can't hear the yelling. Alone in my room I walk around aimlessly. How am I supposed to empty drawers? I have no place to store my clothes. I retrieve a suitcase from my parent's closet. I can put some of the clothes I already feel uncomfortable in, in there. That should make some room for Brayden.

  As I roll the suitcase into my room, Jessica stomps up the steps. Our eyes meet and I see her face contorted with anger.

  "What's up?" I ask.

  She shakes her head. "I hate him. I can't wait to get the hell out of here."

  "Come in my room and tell me what happened."

  Jessica follows me.

  "No matter what I do, it's never going to be good enough. No matter how hard I try to prove to him that I'm not the total and complete fuck up he thinks I am, he'll never see me as anything different. I should just go and . . ."

  "Hey, slow down a minute. Things have been getting better. You hit a bump in the road. Don't let that get you off track."

  She hugs her arms around herself, and I feel like this is a pivotal moment. I don't want to lose her or the closeness we've found. I realize just how much my sister means to me.

  "Why not?" She asks. "I mean seriously, why subject myself to this?"

  I step toward her, take her hand and rest it on my stomach. "Because you're my big sister, and I need you."

  She shakes her head, "Not anymore. You have Brayden."

  "Yes, I do. But I need you, too. I'm sure I'll do something stupid and fuck things up again, I need you around to make sure I don't."

  She looks away.

  "And what about the free babysitting you promised? I can't do this without you."

  "I don't know, Kenzie."
/>
  "Well, I do. I love you, Jess."

  We end the conversation with a hug. Jessica follows me into my room and plops herself on my bed.

  "Good thing your bed doesn't squeak," she snickers. "Bet that's why Dad's so nuts."

  I feel my face get red hot as I look away from her.

  "Do you think he has a clue what he's doing? Finishing the basement I mean?"

  "I don't know, but he's been watching "how to" videos on line the last few days. I think it gives his mind something to focus on besides Brayden knocking you up."

  "You know what I love most about you, Jess? Your way with words."

  *

  The clinking and clacking in the kitchen pull us from my room. I cleared out two drawers. I think that should be enough for now. Besides, Brayden won't be here every day, he's going to need to have some of his clothes at school too.

  Mom looks up when she sees us. "Kenzie, make garlic bread. Jessica, get to work on a salad, and this way I can bake a batch of cookies before we eat."

  "What's for dinner?"

  "Shrimp Fra Diablo. It's your father's favorite, and make sure you say thank you."

  "Of course."

  An hour later mom calls down that it's time for dinner. Almost an hour passes after that before my father and Brayden come up for air.

  Dinner starts off in silence. If a pin drops in the kitchen it would sound through the house like a giant gong. I keep looking at Brayden trying to get a clue as to my father's mood. A long, grueling, tension-filled ten minutes passes before anyone speaks.

  Brayden pulls his phone from his pocket, and I'm sure this is going to set my father off. He has a strict rule about no electronics during dinner. I don't know if Brayden is aware of the unspoken rule he just broke, but after checking it, he shoves it back in his pocket.

  "Carlos and Josh said they could be here in a little over an hour. Dave is going to try to get his father to come along. He's a general contractor . . ."

  "I'm not paying anyone when we could do this ourselves. We don't need the extra help."

  Brayden nods. "I know, and its coming along great, but my friends will help with the heavy lifting and if Dave's father could help us get the rest of the material at a discount, what do we have to lose? Besides, I'm hoping I might be able to talk him into letting me work for him."