Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3

by Rey, Rosemary

  “I hope you’re right. Zipper, please do everything you can to end this nightmare.” I begged. When we hung up, I returned to work on our plan.

  MATT

  Ready to settle in to eat my dinner and drink a needed beer, my phone buzzed and I frowned to see it was Zipper on the other line. I didn’t want to speak to him. I hadn’t spoken to him in a week. Guilt for my betrayal by moving against Pentagon caused me to remain distant. I didn’t want to be dissuaded because of our friendship.

  “Yeah,” I answered as usual, so as not to make him any more uncomfortable. Never being good with people, he’d always been the one to seek me out more often than I did with him. I tended to call him when I needed something. My self-serving nature always got the best of me.

  “You need to call her and tell her you’re okay. And you’ve got to tell her that you two are okay,” he warned.

  “That’s our business, Zip.”

  “She’s scared you’re cutting bait and will leave her,” he informed.

  “I just might.”

  “You can’t mean that. Not after all the things you’ve done to try to keep her.

  “Look where that got me.”

  “That got you the woman of your dreams and a baby.”

  “She told you?”

  “She swore me to secrecy, so I won’t be sharing it with anyone else. You well know how emotional and vulnerable she’s got to be right now. You should at least call her.”

  “And say what? I’ve told her the same thing over and over. If she hasn’t done it by now, then she’ll never do it.”

  “She needs time, Mattie,”

  “I don’t have any more time, Zip.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “What’s the rush? We intended to be married. I had to fight her about having children, and now that there’s no legal marriage, she ends up pregnant. You know I’m a traditional man. She knows it too. I had expectations, and she’s been failing to meet them.”

  “So you threaten to take the baby away? How traditional is that?”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” I said ashamedly.

  “You bet your ass, you weren’t thinking.”

  “Are you going to call her, at least?” Zipper asked again.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. “I’ve got things to do, man.”

  “What’s more important than Perla and your baby?”

  “You’re laying it on really thick.”

  “I have to. It’s the only way you’ll get your head out of your ass.”

  “I just need time, man. When you deal with the shit I’ve been dealing with then you can lecture me.”

  “In time, you will see what she’s doing is for your own good. You and your baby,” he hung up.

  I stared at the phone, thinking it was a malfunction. I hated hearing his parting words without knowing the full context of his statement. I felt he knew something I wasn’t privy too, and I hated to think my friend had more of a connection with my wife than I had.

  Perla was still my wife. Those vows were said in earnest. Neither of us faltered in our vows because we’re in love. I couldn’t see how I could parent our child without us being married.

  I called Quinton. “Hey. There’s been a new development. I need to add another clause to the agreement with Perla. Call me back.” I left a message.

  An agreement to return my stocks had been drawn, and Perla would soon know I was no longer patient. I wasn’t going to change my mind. I had no problem demanding more. Perla was going to return my stocks and everything else I demanded. I was going to make sure of it.

  *****

  Unable to stay away for very long, I went upstairs to her apartment and unlocked the door. The lights were off. An empty plate of food sat on the coffee table. Curled on her side, she slept facing the back of the couch. I smiled, remembering the first time I found her in the same position in my apartment. An apartment I gave up for her. I’d been making a lot of foolish choices. My parents were right; my impulsivity would be the ruin of me. Zipper’s statement about her vulnerable state had me feeling some guilt for not checking in. I needed some time to sort things out. I couldn’t believe I was going to be a father.

  When I knelt beside her, I pressed my hand on her belly. In the moment, it had so much more meaning than the other times I’d touched her. Before her pregnancy, I’d touch her stomach, imagining her pregnant, and now that she was, I ached to see her grow. I wanted to experience every milestone. I was impatient to feel every movement. I would even be happy to run around Boston to get her whatever she craved. I shook the thoughts as she stirred.

  Perla looked over, and turned her body to face me. “Hi,” she said. She looked so beautiful. ‘Glowing’ was too weak of a word to describe how radiant she looked. I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her full, pink lips. I loved when she moaned under my kiss.

  “I miss you,” she said sweetly, breaking through the wall I erected on Saturday when I took the saliva laden handkerchief to the lab. I knew it wouldn’t be the best method, but I needed evidence to help me confront her. The text message from one of the lab techs confirmed enough hormone levels to indicate pregnancy was both shocking and exhilarating.

  I couldn’t respond. I remained staring into her eyes. True to her form, she looked away.

  “Why do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Look away. You can’t seem to hold a connection with me. I had to learn to look people in the eyes, so I often wonder if I’m too intense for you.”

  Perla kept quiet, and I dropped my head, compartmentalizing fragmented thoughts of what had transpired in the last several months since we got together.

  “I can’t lock my eyes with yours because you’re too much for me,” she said. I didn’t understand what she meant, and I was going to ask her until she continued on her own. “I feel intense feelings for you and they swirl in my heart. I love you so much it hurts. I fear I will lose you and it hurts. When I look into your eyes, I see what you want me to be, and I’m afraid. I’m scared to lose who I’ve become and have to start all over again when we don’t work out.”

  “I’m not your ex.”

  “I know, but deep within, I have to protect myself. I just feel like I keep losing everyone I love. I’ve lost the biggest supports throughout my life; my mom, brother, and Alice. And while I have good friends, it’s not the same as having a committed partner. I desperately want you in my life, but I just need assurance and insurance,” she said.

  “What does assurance and insurance mean? I’ve given you everything and have told you what I want.”

  “Your intentions were listed out like a to-do list or a scoring sheet for our life together. While I respect the importance of our working through every aspect of our life in a prenup, we lost some intimacy in not organically discussing and learning through trial and error. I feel like you expected me to hurt you like Sonia. So when I can’t look you in the eyes, it’s because I’m afraid of fucking us up—like she did,” she stroked the bristles of my chin.

  Her hands were warm and gentle. I pressed my mouth to hers. We remained entwined in each other’s kiss. It was slow and calm, unlike the ferocious lovemaking we’d been doing. Perla pulled me to her. I climbed on her, ensuring not to press against her with all my weight. As much as I wanted to grind hard into her, make her moan, and finally let her come under my control, I needed just the kisses and her caresses. There was so much more emotion when we made out. We’d been missing moments like this; kissing like teenagers who were experiencing all the emotion and sensations of first love. Perla pressed me to her, wrapping her legs around my waist. It was getting harder to stop myself from laying more of my weight on her. She pulled my pelvis closer, rocking upwards into me. I wanted her so badly, but I wanted to enjoy the time we spent kissing.

  Just when I needed to grind hard into her to relieve some of the pressure, I heard a phone buzz. It wasn’t my cell, which was always set to ring. I pulled away from her. “Do you n
eed to get that?”

  “No,” she whispered, rising up to meet my lips. The buzzing stopped. “Let’s go to bed,” she said, looking at me with yearning. I stood up, and held her hands to pull her up. Her phone buzzed again. As she reached for her phone, she looked at me with concern.

  “Hey. What’s wrong?” Perla answered.

  “Papi is in the hospital.” I heard the loud voice of one of her sisters. “I’ve been calling you all evening.” Perla looked at me, and I nodded to confirm I heard.

  “What happened?”

  “He fell. His right knee gave out as he was walking with his friend to eat at the corner diner,” she said.

  “When?”

  “This afternoon. I called you as soon as I heard. I drove up to the hospital. He’s stable. He’s in a lot of pain,” she looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes.

  “I’m on my way. I have to get dressed. Text me the details,” she finished with her sister. “I warned you before. You need to stay far away from me. I’m cursed. Everyone I love gets hurt or die.” She said.

  She turned away, and I followed her to the bedroom. We quickly assembled clothes to change into. After she walked around aimlessly gathering things, I grabbed her hand and ushered her out of the apartment. I drove to the hospital. It wasn’t an affiliate of my practice because it was a distance away. When we arrived, I showed them my identification and we were privately escorted to her father’s room.

  “Papa,” she cried as soon as she saw him.

  Patricio looked good, but I knew seeing him in a hospital would be traumatic for Perla. She ran to his arms, crying on his chest. I felt sad for her, and surprisingly, I felt a bit of jealousy. I quantified it was because her love for him was unconditional, and her love for me would always have a limit. However, I hoped our connection through the birth of our baby would reduce the conditions on her love for me, seeing me in a more favorable light by loving our child.

  After she introduced me to everyone, I greeted her father. I went into doctor mode and asked a series of questions about what happened, how he was feeling, and pain in his other leg. I told them I’d return and I sought out his chart. Upon review of the chart and the MRI scans, I determined he would do best by having a double knee replacement. Recovery would be long and difficult, requiring a stay at a rehabilitation hospital, especially at his advanced age. I wasn’t sure he’d agree to it. I didn’t know how much he’d been told. I asked the nurse to send the attending doctor back to the room.

  “Mr. Mercurio.”

  “Peto, please,” he stated.

  “Peto, what has the doctor told you so far?”

  “He say I need operation. I no agree.” Peto stated in his thick accented English.

  I smiled, needing to use a different tactic with the stubborn man. In his dissent, I saw so much of Perla.

  “Well, you do,” I smiled. Perla looked worried. Her sister Rubi nodded.

  “I’m concerned his age is too advanced to do well under anesthesia,” Esmeralda said.

  “It’s always a risk for all age groups, but he will be well taken care of. He should have a double knee replacement, so he can be admitted to a rehabilitation home. He will get the best care and physical therapy for quicker recovery.”

  “Eso cuesta mucho,” Esmeralda answered her sisters, fearing the cost.

  “It does,” I said truthfully in Spanish. Esmeralda looked surprised at my response.

  “I’ll cover the cost,” Perla answered easily. I admired her, taking responsibility.

  “We’ll help pay. We don’t need you to take care of everything,” Rubi chimed in with a hint of annoyance.

  “Rubi, I make good money. I have savings. I can pay for whatever Papi’s insurance doesn’t pay for. I want to.”

  “So you can throw it in our face that we can’t contribute,” Rubi continued.

  My frustration reached an all-time level, seeing my wife bullied by her older sisters. Brady’s words about Perla’s need to fit into a family rang true.

  “It’s not that, Rubi, and you know it. Everyone in this family keeps making excuses for why he can’t or shouldn’t get the surgery, especially him. I’m eliminating the excuse of money. If Matt thinks he needs the surgery, then I’m going to let him operate.”

  “I wouldn’t be operating,” I interjected.

  “What? Why?” She asked.

  “Can we talk in private then we’ll explain to everyone?” I said.

  Perla hesitated, looking at her father in the bed. “He’s okay,” I assured. We walked out of the room. “I can’t do the surgery because you and I are too close. He’s family. And I’m concerned that if something goes wrong, you won’t be able to put it behind us.”

  “But I want you to do it.”

  “You know I’ll only do what I think is ethically right?” I asked. She looked straight through me, and hung her head down, finally nodding. “I can ask one of my colleagues to do it,” I told her, pulling her close.

  While I held her in my arms, the attending doctor arrived. I told Perla to go back in with her father and discuss it with them while I talked to the attending. She nodded and left. I told the attendant my plan. Patricio would be discharged in the morning and transported to a hospital where my practice was permitted to perform surgeries. I requested his records be prepped for transfer. I called my office manager and asked her to figure out the surgical schedule of Dr. Bronson Milner, who was one of the best reconstructive surgeons in our practice. I offered to take over his surgeries, which didn’t conflict with mine. She would also schedule the operating room, our anesthesiologist, and nurses. I told her I would be there to observe and consult, if necessary and if my schedule permitted. She assured me she would handle everything and would inform me once everything was confirmed.

  Once I returned to the room, I watched everyone’s body language. Tension thickened the atmosphere. I could feel it pervade the air. I looked at each of their faces to determine cues. Perla wiped her eyes.

  I spoke, “I have talked to the attending doctor and told her to get your father ready for transfer in the morning. My office manager is organizing everything. We can do the surgery at some point tomorrow, as long as we get an operating room in one of the three hospitals where we have residence.”

  “I not sure,” Patricio answered.

  I asked the women to leave the room. Each one hesitated, gasping as the audacity of my removing them. I gave Perla a look, and she read my cue.

  “Vamonos,” Perla told her sisters to leave. I saw her give them a warning look, and they bowed and followed suit. Once the door was closed, I spoke to him on a more personal level. I explained the procedure, equipment, time line, and recovery. I assured him I would be in and out of the room dependent on my having to take over for Dr. Milner’s patients. The key was to explain how his quality of life would significantly improve after several weeks of inconvenience. After several moments of thought, he consented.

  Once the women returned to the room, we both explained the decision. I let them ask me many questions. Esmeralda helped to confirm a lot of the information I provided. Once they were satisfied and agreed, Rubi and Esmeralda departed to return home to their children. Perla asked to talk in private.

  We walked out of the room, “I’m going to stay the night, and see to his transition. My sisters don’t live close by, and I can’t leave him by himself,” she explained. I nodded. I would have preferred she returned home with me because she needed her rest. I felt she was pulling away from me; maybe some residual anger for not agreeing to operate on her father. She gave me a quick peck on the lips and entered his room.

  We never failed to take one step forward and two steps back.

  *****

  Early in the morning, I went to the hospital to pick up Perla. Before I left the night before, I ensured her father was transferred to a private room where she could sleep on the convertible couch. I read his chart before I entered, and his vitals were still doing well. When I entered the room, I fou
nd her asleep, but it couldn’t have been comfortable. Her father placed his fingers on his lips, silencing me.

  “How are you doing this morning?” I asked him when I approached his bedside.

  “So ‘kay,” he said. He wasn’t permitted to eat or drink. He looked and sounded well.

  “What happening with you and my daughter?” He asked in his thickly accented English.

  “We’re working through some of our issues. I’m sorry we’ve had so many problems in our relationship. I appreciate you giving me your blessing to marry her. I would have preferred to ask you in person, but it was something which needed to happen as soon as possible,” I reaffirmed.

  Patricio shrugged and said, “You love each other. She a big girl.”

  “We do. I don’t know if she’s told you, but she’s expecting a baby.”

  “She tell me last night. I happy. She love you, but she scared. Her ex hurt her so much. For nothing. Hard to see child hurt,” he answered. His hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke in his second language.

  “Can I ask you something?” I asked in Spanish to ease him from speaking broken English. He nodded. “I saw you talking to Margaret Clay. Do you know her son is in love with Perla?”

  “When they were young, I was told Shay gave Perla a lot of care and attention. None of us paid any mind. We treated him like a cousin or an older brother. He was great with my son. A smart young man who tried to help my son take the right path, but my son was stubborn. He inherited his mother’s gene for addiction. Perla was encouraged to focus on dancing and school. She was successful at both. Shay wouldn’t be my first choice for a husband.”

  “Why would that be?” I asked a little too eagerly.

  “I watched him at the event, and he didn’t seem to pay much mind to Perla.”

  “Well, I didn’t either. I was angry with her.”

  “Son, the looks you gave each other all night was enough to know you two are in love. She didn’t look at him at all. I see the way she looks at you. Not even Benicio got that look from her. Shay is no threat.”