Married a Stripper

by M. S. Parker

  Speaking of...

  “Is Astra going to walk in here and find me laying naked on her couch?” I asked.

  We had a throw covering us, or mostly. But I really didn’t want her best friend finding us like this. Especially since I had a feeling Astra would want to kick my ass for leaving Piety. Hell, I wanted to kick my ass for that.

  “Not a chance. She’s with a guy.” Piety stretched against me, and the feel of her sleek body rubbing against me had my cock stirring. I was tempted to roll her over and take her again, but things had to be said first.

  Before I could lose my nerve, I shifted around on the couch and pushed up onto my elbow. Her eyes were big and sleepy, her face still flushed from sex.

  My heart clenched, just looking at her, and I wished we could just stay here like this forever, not have to deal with the rest of the world. But real life was out there, whether we liked it or not.

  “We should talk.”

  Her smile was soft, sadness clinging to it. “That’s what we’ve been doing. You came up here to talk.”

  “No.” Stroking my thumb over her lower lip, I sighed. “I’m serious. There’s…more. Stuff I should have told you before.”

  Her eyes cooled slightly, and I braced myself for the rejection I suspected was coming.

  “If this is about my parents,” she said, voice level, almost…gentle. “I already know. I mean, did you think I wouldn't find out? That they wouldn't tell me what you did?”

  “What I did?” I asked, frowning.

  Well, that answered a lot of questions. I’d spent the past week wondering what they told her. Her calls had gone from worried to agitated and then to…careful. There had been no emotion in the last message she had left for me and that careful lack of any feeling had managed to convey quite a bit.

  I might not have known the specifics, but I could see now that she hadn't been told the whole truth. I should have known her parents would've put a spin on it that made me out to be the bad guy. Her father was a politician, for fuck's sake.

  “Come off it, Kaleb.” She eased away from me and sat up. “I understand why you did it. I really do. I was trying to get things together to help you out anyway, and if I had been upfront and honest, you wouldn’t have been so desperate. But don’t try to make this into anything other than what it was.”

  She’d been what…?

  I pushed that aside, climbing off the couch and grabbing my jeans. They were still wet, but I pulled them on anyway. I didn't want to have this discussion naked.

  Piety had smoothed her shirt down and now sat studying me with studied casualness. “We can get past it. We really can. But, just…don’t try to justify how it happened. I don't want to think about it.”

  Some of the frustration I was feeling dissolved.

  She’d let it go, I realized. She would let it all go even though it was clear that whatever she'd been told had hurt her.

  I leaned down and cupped her face. “I’m losing a little bit more of myself to you all the time.”

  My lips brushed against hers and I thought about staying quiet, just keeping it all inside. Her parents may have treated her poorly, but she still loved them, and I knew how much learning the truth would hurt her. It might even be enough for her to turn on me, and I'd lose her forever.

  A small selfish part of me thought I should just accept it, enjoy what time I had, while I could.

  But she’d never been anything but honest with me.

  I could do no less with her.

  I straightened with a sigh. “I don’t know what they told you I did, but your parents paid me to leave town, Piety. They said if I signed the annulment papers and left, agreed not to talk to you, they’d give me money – cash. It was everything I needed to take care of Camry.”

  Shock danced across her features.

  Here it comes…now she’ll push me away…

  “What?” The question came out flat.

  “Their lawyer came here to see me,” I said, that familiar feeling of exhaustion bearing down on me again.

  I paced over to the window. The storm had blown over, but it was still raining, the sort of summer storm that blotted everything out.

  I continued without looking at her, “You and Astra were gone and this lawyer showed up…Stuart Rushmore.”

  Even his name disgusted me, but I kept my voice even.

  “He came here and told me that he wanted to talk to me, said he could help me.” Turning back to her, I shrugged. “He said he was a friend of yours. It wasn’t until I’d already let him in that he clarified and said he was actually your parents’ lawyer. Then he laid out the deal.” Shame flooded me. “And I…took it.”

  “That’s why you haven’t returned my calls.” She swallowed, her gaze falling to the floor.

  “I’d given my word. It means something to me. I don’t have much, but that’s one of the few things I do have.” I looked around her loft, evidence of how little my word had meant in the end. “Or had. I’m here now.”

  “And why are you here now?” Her tone was careful, cautious, and I hated that what I'd done made her feel that way about me.

  “Because. There’s nothing left. I spent the last of the money to buy a ticket back here.” I realized how that sounded as soon as I said it, so I hurried to explain.

  I told her everything, what had happened with Stefano, and how Camry had come to my room high, how she'd completely blown me off. Piety listened without saying a word, her expression guarded until my voice broke as I told her about Camry walking away. Piety came to me then, wrapping her arms around me, and I hugged her back, not even trying to disguise how desperately I needed her.

  “Everything was completely fucked up, but all I could think about is you and how much I miss you and how much I wish I hadn’t left.” I let the words pour out of me. “So I came back, praying you'd understand, forgive me. I know all this sounds terribly selfish, and I suppose it is, because I know I messed up more than I can say. But you're too important for me to let go without a fight. I need you, Piety. And I don't need anyone.” My hands flexed against her back. “I don't know what I'm going to do if I can't have you.”

  She eased back, looking up at me with the sort of searching expression I felt all the way to my very soul.

  Then, slowly, she kissed my forehead. Each of my cheeks. My chin.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I’ve been so angry at you these past few weeks, and it wasn’t totally your fault. It was my parents manipulating you like they’ve tried to do to me my whole life. I should have known.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. It was my fault.” I stroked my hand up her back, my fingers passing over each bump of her spine, memorizing each nuance of her body. “I made the fucked up decision to take the deal and leave when I should have talked to you.”

  “We all make mistakes. They're in the past now.” She sighed and tucked her body against mine. After a moment, she asked, “What are you going to do about Camry?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I can do anything.” Misery settled inside, but anger and hurt were useless, I knew. Giving in to them solved nothing. “I’ve given up everything for her, sacrificed most of my life to take care of her. And now this…” I shook my head, unable to put into words the sheer helplessness I felt.

  “We’re going to find a way.”

  Piety sounded so certain that I dared to feel a flicker of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, I could be happy.

  Seven

  Piety

  “I got the job.”

  Carol stood in front of my desk, twisting her fingers, looking stunned.

  “Congratulations!”

  I came out from behind the desk and hugged her, keeping it light and easy so she could break away. She was doing so much better than when she first came here, but I knew physical touch was still hard for her. Like so many others in her situation, she'd gone from an abusive father to an abusive husband, and relearning physical contact was never easy.

&nbs
p; She nodded nervously, her dark eyes bouncing all over the place. “I got the job, Ms. Van Allan. They hired me.”

  “I know,” I smiled at her. “Congratulations.”

  Carol pushed her hair back from her face with shaking hands, then went back to twisting them in front of her, staring at them instead of looking at me. “I just don’t understand. Why would they hire me? I haven’t worked in years.”

  “Apparently, they saw something in you that they liked. Now it’s time for you to look in the mirror and see the same thing they saw.” I gestured for her to sit down, then settled in the chair next to hers and took her nervous hands, squeezed gently. “It’s the same thing I see when you're with your daughter or talking to the other women here. It’s the same thing that gave you the courage to leave your husband. You’re tougher than you think. You’re going to do fine.”

  She nodded, sniffling, and I knew she was going to be okay. Things wouldn't be easy, but I meant what I said. She could do it.

  A few minutes later, I walked into the small break room and a wave of clapping broke out from the other workers. I gave a small bow, and then laughed as they continued.

  “Stop it. Or go applaud for Carol. She did the hard part.”

  The applause faded, but the positive energy in the room remained. It was always important to celebrate the victories like this. After all, this was why we did the work in the first place.

  One of the girls who handled the new intakes opened the microwave, pulling out her usual lunch – a microwave burrito. The smell of it hit me hard, even as I wondered how she could eat them. She was talking to one of the other women, something about a case she was working on, but nothing more than the first few words really connected because as that smell grew stronger, my stomach rebelled.

  Oh, shit.

  Lurching toward the bathroom, I almost bowled over the woman coming out. I dropped to my knees in front of the nearest toilet, emptying out my stomach with near violence while my heart hammered in my ears.

  “Oh, honey…are you okay?”

  That was when I realized I had an audience.

  Another wave of nausea hit me and I groaned before gagging. A few more seconds passed before I thought it might finally be over.

  “Oh for the love of my great aunt Bessie,” a familiar voice boomed. “Somebody might think you’d never seen a woman get sick before. You people, give her some room.”

  I cringed at the sound of that voice. It was Felicia Winke, my boss. The last person I wanted to be sick in front of. Sometimes, having a famous father or coming from a well-to-do family had its disadvantages. Like having to prove to people like Felicia that I was willing and able to work hard.

  Her words sent people scurrying, and before long, I was alone in the bathroom with just her. I thought maybe I was done.

  Maybe.

  She stared at me hard. “How long have you been sick?”

  I passed my hand over the back of my mouth. “Just this once.”

  “Unlike some people, I know that throwing up can come from a variety of reasons. Do you think you’re contagious?” Her words were blunt, but I knew that was just Felicia. She didn't believe in sugarcoating anything.

  I shook my head, my stomach settling however uneasily. “I don't think so. Probably something I ate just didn’t settle well.”

  She narrowed her eyes before nodding. “Okay. If it gets worse, go home. We don’t need an epidemic. And try toast and ginger ale. We always keep some around.”

  I started to refuse, but a ginger ale actually sounded nice. I took it slow getting up, not wanting to overdo it. As I sat at the table a few minutes later sipping the cool drink, I took out my phone and read through my emails. I hated feeling like I was slacking, even if I had thrown up.

  “Are you feeling better?” Felicia sat down across from me, eyeing me again.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “I think I just needed to get whatever it was out of my system.”

  She looked at her nails, then glanced back up at me. “Are you seeing anybody?”

  There was a deliberate casualness behind the question that worried me. Especially since Felicia rarely asked personal questions.

  I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about the marriage and the subsequent annulment, so I'd taken to wearing my wedding ring on my right hand when I was at work. Nobody here knew about Kaleb, and since it wasn’t likely they'd ever meet anybody in my family, explanations weren’t necessary.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I’m just wondering.” She tapped her nails on the top of the table. “It’s kind of funny, don't you think, that those nasty microwave burritos have never bothered you before, but today, you turn green and puke your guts out right after. Then five minutes later, you’re right as rain.”

  I didn't like where this conversation was heading. “What are you trying to say?”

  Felicia gave me a sympathetic look. “Piety, I’ve had those sort of 'stomach issue' three times myself. The last time was about a decade ago.”

  I stared at her, her meaning beginning to sink in as I remembered her youngest kid was around ten years-old.

  “Oh, shit,” I breathed. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

  “So…it’s possible?” she asked.

  I covered my face with my hands, unable to even answer her. My head was spinning and I thought I might throw up again.

  She moved over next to me, and patted my shoulder. “Honey, it’s okay. You just need to find out for sure.”

  I thought about the wine I’d drunk last night. The sip of scotch I’d had the other day. Hell yes, I needed to find out. If I was pregnant…I groaned. Could I be?

  We hadn't been using condoms this whole time, but I was on the pill.

  Except I remembered a girl I'd gone to high school with who'd been on the pill and gotten pregnant. It was really rare unless a dose was skipped or antibiotics were taken, but it could happen.

  “Oh, man.”

  Felicia smiled at me. “Well, you’ve gone from oh shit to oh man. I’d say this might not be such a bad thing.”

  I dropped my head down onto the table. I needed to go to the store. I needed to…I didn’t even know what I needed to do. I couldn't think straight.

  “Take a few more minutes.” She got up and headed out of the room. “But on your way home tonight, you might want to think about buying a pregnancy test.”

  I took the extra minutes she’d advised and sent Astra a text. Astra’s response came back a couple minutes later, but those minutes felt like hours.

  What’s going on?

  I just threw up. I responded. And I don't think it's the flu.

  Her response was an emoji, one with the guy and a giant open mouth. Yeah, that’s about as surprised as I felt.

  Eight

  Piety

  I hadn't had time to go to the store last night. Or rather, I’d been too afraid to. I was still trying to convince myself that I’d just eaten something that hadn’t settled well. That had to be more common than getting pregnant while I was on the pill. Right?

  I'd have to do it eventually. I knew that, but maybe it was just a stomach bug. I’d already thrown up two other times, again aggravated by some awful smell.

  Felicia brought in crackers and more ginger ale, so the second and third time, a sleeve of saltines were waiting for me.

  She’d also given me a questioning look, and I’d just given her a weak smile in her return. When she shook her head, I knew exactly what she was thinking. I needed to man up and take a test so I could figure out how I was going to handle this latest curveball. If that's what it was.

  Now, stressed out and drained, I sat on the couch, curled up against Kaleb as I rubbed the inside of my wedding ring with my thumb.

  “Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

  I was about ready to blurt it all out, to let him freak out with me, when a fist pounded on the door. I scowled, wondering who it was. But I already had a bad, bad feeling. There were only so many people it
could be.

  “Piety,” my father said through the door.

  Shit.

  He knocked again, harder. “Open up. I know you’re there. Carlos told me you were here. Your mother and I need to talk with you and...Kaleb.”

  The distaste in his voice got me up off the couch. Furious, I stormed over to the door and threw it open.

  He opened his mouth to start one of his patented politician's speeches, but I wasn't in the mood.

  “Yes, Dad. We do need to talk. Who in the hell do you think you are?” I demanded. “You paid my husband to leave and never say a word to me? What kind of man does that to his own daughter?”

  He glared at me, but said nothing as he and my mother came inside. I hadn't asked them to, but they did what they wanted regardless of how anyone else felt. Which was exactly how we'd gotten to this point.

  “And you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie,” Dad countered automatically. “I haven’t said a word to you since the reunion.”

  “Nice political maneuvering, Dad. Fine, you had your little lapdog lie.” I rolled my eyes. “It amounts to the same thing. Stuart's your mouthpiece and does all the dirty work for you anyway.”

  “Piety, can we close the door? The neighbors...” My mother placed herself halfway between my father and me.

  Right the neighbors. I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. That was my mother. Always worried about what other people might think.

  “Fine,” I said. I slammed the door and I went back to the couch but didn’t sit down. I knew better. I was too familiar with my father’s intimidation tactics, and I wasn't going to play that game today.

  I looked at Kaleb and held out my hand. He took it and placed himself at my side. He had risen the moment he heard my father’s voice, and now he lifted his chin, meeting my father’s gaze squarely.

  “How can you stand there and look me in the eyes?” Dad demanded.

  “It’s not hard. I don’t have any respect for you, so why should I have a hard time looking at you?” Kaleb said evenly.