The thought alone would be enough to kill me if the overwhelming need to never let that happen wasn’t enough to distract me. I can’t let her be with anyone else and if that means travelling down another path to get to our happy ever after then so be it.
I scrape by what remains of the day at the office, barely able to concentrate on the manuscripts that I chose for James to pursue their authors. I’m out the door the second I’m able to and driving with determination.
Once home opening the door is a struggle with my work bag in one arm and the biggest bouquet of flowers I could find in the other. I had to bribe the store to let me in after I caught them closing their shutters and I still paid over the odds for these flowers. But knowing that they may produce a genuine smile from Darlene makes the price and effort irrelevant. She didn’t seem so pleased with the last couple of bouquets I’d gifted her.
I find Darlene playing her guitar on the couch, her back to me.
“Hi,” she calls as her fingers continue to strum, and then she continues humming along to a familiar tune. She’s played it before, but never this melancholically.
“Hi,” I greet. “What song is this?”
“Will you still love me tomorrow? Winehouse’s version, not The Shirelle’s.”
I wonder at the significance when I see the little paper bag from the pharmacy. Unopened. She’s yet to turn around so I’m free to close my eyes and breathe a little respite.
“I haven’t cooked. I thought we could just order pizza tonight.”
“Great,” I reply, knowing that she only ever orders pizza when she is trying to please me. “Shall I put these in water?”
Turning in confusion, Darlene’s eyes find the flowers before they find me. A smile sweeter than any rose blooms over her features, her eyes twinkling in harmony. Placing Cash down, she moves from the couch and walks to me. She takes the flowers, sniffing them with closed eyes before lingering at my side and gazing at me adoringly.
“They’re absolutely beautiful, Reid. Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
Her smile broadens and she turns to lay them on the counter. Leaning over, she rummages in the draw to find some scissors. Her ass is enticing me, inches from my hand and bound in a tight jersey skirt that sits at her knees.
Only now do I see my kryptonite.
She’s barefoot. In my kitchen. And...
“What’s the occasion?” she calls over her shoulder, standing up and cutting away the paper from the bouquet.
I link my arm around her waist and bury my face into her thick, vanilla-fragranced hair. “The occasion is…I’m home, you’re home, and we’re exactly where we should both be.”
“I don’t think flowers are standard protocol for that,” she whispers, a little giggle slipping off the end of her words when my tongue tastes that magic place below her ear.
“Oh, really? What is then?”
Turning ever so slowly, she drops the scissors onto the counter, freeing her hands up to run them over my chest and up to my face. She lifts my glasses and folds them, sliding them into my jacket pocket. Biting her lip and shrugging innocently, she looks up at me from beneath her thick lashes. “A kiss,” she answers. Impossibly soft lips press briefly to my cheek before she hovers over my parted lips invitingly.
“I can manage that.”
Holding her head in both of my hands I bring her onto her toes. The faintest moan escapes her lips as my tongue glides with hers. Her body drops, weak from the sudden chemistry that’s thick in the air between us, so in one quick movement I lift her onto the counter of the breakfast bar. With elbows rested on my shoulders, her delicate fingers run circles in my hair. Watching her intently, I notice her smile falter briefly.
My hands had already begun pulling up her skirt so that it sits around her waist, but I stop. “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice breathy with anticipation. She nods and touches her forehead to mine. “We don’t have to...I just...you look beautiful and I...”
“I want this,” she whispers, moving herself to the very edge of the worktop. “I need this, please.”
Not one to deny my wife, I kiss away the sadness that I see in her eyes. I coat her mouth with my love before moving to her favorite spot on her neck. She makes light work of leaving me shirtless before reaching to undo my pants. The shared need for this is building, our fingers become less agile as the desperation sores. I manage to pull off her shirt and rejoice in the fact that she is bra-less. My hands fit her breasts like they were made in unison and I know how to work them as if they are an extension of me. Pink buds immediately harden at my touch and I can’t resist tasting them while I pull her panties down her legs.
“I want you so badly. Please be ready for me, baby.”
She nods frantically, sighing, “I am, I am.”
My fingers make sure, gliding over her tight stomach, forgetting anything that could be in there. They slide into her easily and she clenches so responsively around them. Adding another finger, I curl them gently and she breaks out a needy moan.
I could come right now.
Dropping my slacks to the floor along with my boxer shorts, I tease her opening until her feet push against my ass, telling me to hurry up. I can’t help but smile. Knowing I can get her so worked up is the biggest turn on ever.
I bury into her slow, getting as deep as I can with the added pressure of her legs around my backside. “Please, Reid,” she beckons and I oblige, moving faster, spurred on by her erotic sighs. I roll my hips and cup her ass, pulling her closer with each thrust.
“Good?”
“Oh God,” she cries, falling back onto the cold kitchen counter, her hands landing on her breasts. The sight of her massaging herself like that brings me to the very edge, but I can’t get as deep as I’d like this way. I push aside the flowers and throw the scissors to the floor. Lifting Darlene, I move her up the counter, a little diagonally so that there’s enough room for me. I pull myself up and over her, taking her nipple into my mouth again as I work on getting her hers before mine. She’s close. Her eyes are fixed on the way my tongue laps at her breast and she pulls me tighter to her with her hand knotted in my hair.
“You feel so good, Reid. You’re amazing. I love you so much,” she cries, her ode a staccato with sharp groans of pleasure.
Everything I have is focused on not coming, not coming, not coming.
I’m not that guy.
Her, her, her.
Reaching down between us, I rub light circles around her, needing her so desperately to let go. With her oncoming release she’s clenching around me, only making my resistance even more difficult. I clamp down on her nipple and move my fingers with more aggression until with an almighty cry Darlene comes apart in my hands. Her hips lift so violently from beneath me I have to hold onto the counter for fear of falling off, all the while pushing hard into her in the depths of my own release. She milks me for all she can until I am a sated heap on top of her.
Darlene giggles lightly as I kiss my way over her chest to her lightly panting mouth. I bring my fingers to her cheek, happy that it is I who has elicited that melodic laughter from her kiss swollen lips.
The happiness dies sharply as I see red smeared across my fingers and consequently, Darlene’s cheek.
“Fuck,” I breathe, lifting enough to look between us.
Red.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s b-blood,” I stutter. “You’re bleeding.” I pull out but I don’t back away. Guilt cloaks me as I play back this whole moment, wondering how I’ve hurt her and inwardly cursing myself.
“W-what?” Sitting up, Darlene looks down between us. Horror evident before relief consumes her. “My period.” Her eyelids flutter shut and her shoulders relax with a deep sigh. I mirror her relief for a different reason; I didn’t hurt her.
The sheer magnificence of her relief is so telling. I know that she wanted to wait to start a family but the joy she is feeling right now is from more than just timing
concerns. She was just as worried about the paternity of that child – that non-child – as I was. I knew that already, but to see it so blatantly is a little sobering.
I was prepared to go down that path without knowing what the outcome would be. I was prepared to take on another man’s child for the sake of my wife, my marriage, my happiness. That doesn’t need to happen anymore. This is it for us. The last remnants of that affair have been buried and we are free to carry on as we were. I’m elated, but I can’t show it. Not when Darlene knows how much I’ve wanted a child. This happiness will have to remain as much a secret as everything else between us.
“It’s my period,” she repeats, relief radiating from every pore.
“For a second I thought I’d hurt you.”
She offers a smile. “No, that was amazing.” Bringing her face to mine, she’s about to kiss me before she remembers the blood on her cheek, my hands, everywhere. “Shit. I’m sorry,” she mutters, her cheeks reddening even more.
I shake my head. Only Darlene could apologize for having her period. “Shower?” I ask, helping her down from the counter. She nods. “Go warm it up, I’ll clean up here.”
Alternating a look of disgust between me and the counter, her nose pinched and impossibly cute, even with gross blood against her ivory skin, she says, “You don’t have to do that. It’s my...I can do that.”
“I know you can, but I will.”
She offers me a thankful kiss before walking naked, aside from the skirt bunched at her waist, to the bathroom.
I need a moment.
37
DARLENE
Reid permits me a few minutes to sober up.
I’m not pregnant.
It’s not over.
The secret is still very much a secret.
If I was alone I would have fist pumped the air and sang my damn heart out, but even the subtle relief I allowed myself seemed to dampen Reid’s mood. Or maybe that was the icky blood.
Great timing, Mother Nature.
The door opens just as I’m about to step into the now heated shower. Reid offers a small smile but there’s something a little off about his reaction. He’s been acting so down lately that I just assumed he was of the opinion that a baby right now would be disastrous. But maybe he wanted me to be pregnant after all.
Taking his hand, I bring him into the shower with me. We proceed to wash each other in a comforting silence. The soft suds over Reid’s firm chest do wonderful things for him, but I can’t feel sexy right now, even as he lathers a washcloth and cleans between my legs. I do the same for him. He’s semi-hard in my hand but I have no intention of goading a repeat performance from him. He’s tense and I want to know why.
Using the shampoo from the shelf, he begins lathering up my hair, his fingers running gentle circles into my scalp, feeling so soothing that I close my eyes and brace myself with my hands on his waist. After rinsing out the last of the suds he works to condition it. Embracing the feeling of being looked after once again, I allow a little hum to escape my mouth.
“Stop that, or we’ll never get out of the shower,” he says, low into my ear. I open my eyes to find my favorite lopsided smile. It’s a reassurance, and in its presence I find the ability to ask what I should have asked the night I told him my period was late.
“Did you want the baby?”
I attempt to keep my features smooth and my words weightless, but his brow furrows in response. It’s clear he’s thinking about what I’ve said and he’s struggling to form a reply.
Sometime later, he manages to say, “I want to be a father.”
I wait for further explanation but it doesn’t come. Where his voice fails his eyes tell me everything I need to know. The earthy greens are on full display, pupils large and with the added water his eyelashes are thick and pointed. They are unyielding on mine. I see love and I feel the warmth. Having finished on my hair, his hands are stroking delicate lines up and down my back, caring for me, soothing me.
This man before me would do anything for my happiness.
And I him.
Winter has come and gone and we have survived. No longer shrouded in the cold and dark, we are racing toward a happily ever after, and included in that is the family that we have talked about for so long. With our impending happiness comes the inability to deny him anymore. What excuse do I have for postponing it now? And what’s more, I don’t want to. I’ve been tested, and in that I have been reminded of everything. I love this man with all I have and it’s clearer now than it has ever been. Only after weeks in darkness could I fully appreciate the light.
“Okay,” I say, shrugging my shoulders as if it’s no big deal.
“Okay?”
“I want you to be a father too. I want to give that to you. Not immediately, but maybe when I’m settled into my new job? We could look for somewhere with a garden, and where we could see the lake? I mean, it’s not quite the Pacific but...”
Fingers fly to my lips, cutting my words and igniting a gasp. “Stop talking.” Leaning in until we’re sharing the same heated breath, Reid’s focus flits between my eyes and mouth. “Are you saying you want to start a family?” he asks. I nod, his fingers pressed against my mouth, unmoving. “I love you.”
Tears spring to my eyes as I accept his love and return it. “I love you, Reid.”
The next couple of weeks are seen with a smile on my face and a skip in my step. I am reminded of our love every time I see those flowers, every time I am flashed that devastating smile and every time I find myself singing for no reason at all.
The last few weeks have been survived and more importantly, forgotten. Well, as best they can. Days are spent on my own, but not alone because I reminded of Reid and his love everywhere I go, and it’s not long before he is home, work-free, and lavishing me in his time.
We spent one night sorting through our old photographs, images that tell the story of our time together from our beginning, trailing the bars around university and attending gigs and festivals, to our intimate marriage and even more intimate honeymoon. Having never gotten around to it in the previous few months here, we finally began decorating our apartment with our memories.
We laughed, I cried, we kissed.
Deep into our refreshed life, the weekend approaches and a much anticipated get away. Not another trip back to LA, not yet, but an overnight stay at a lodge down in Pike Country. Reid found us somewhere as similar to our honeymoon destination as possible, with the rolling hills and the horses to explore them.
I can’t wait for that sunset.
I’ve not long finished packing for our early morning departure tomorrow when Reid gets home. “In here!” I call, sitting on the case to close it rather than remove that last pair of boots.
Reid stops in the doorway, laughing at my predicament. “Need a hand?”
“Please.”
Finishing the job of zipping up the case, he lifts me from my squatting position and pulls me straight into his arms.
“At ease, soldier,” I joke as Reid’s mouth immediately finds my neck and his hands slip under the waistband of my jeans. It’s become habit lately that the moment we are together again we fall into each other’s arms, and consequently, the bed. His fingers toy with the material of my thong between my cheeks and it takes everything I have to stop his exploration. “Dinner will be ready any second, baby, and I’ve worked too hard to see it ruined.”
Reid growls in response as I free myself from his arms. I can’t help the smirk on my face as he follows me to the kitchen. I’m in the mood to play. Bending over to pull dinner from the oven, I bend at the waist rather than the knees and arch my back a little in the knowledge that Reid is watching me.
“If this little game you have going on is foreplay then I can’t wait for the main,” Reid says, his tone heavy before he clears his throat. “What are we eating anyway?”
I turn to him with the oven tray in my gloved hands and throw him my sexiest smolder. “Pork.”
Reid’s
eyes widen and fall to the spiced chops in my hand before he lets out a cute chuckle. “You’ll be the death of me.”
Dinner is eaten with speed under the promise that, for my efforts, Reid would have me for dessert. He wasn’t kidding. I have barely swallowed the last of the accompanying salad before Reid has stripped me of my jeans and is working on my thong.
38
BLUE
People say that if you love someone then you should let them go. I call bullshit. If you love someone then you will do anything you can to keep them. And I will. If that means fighting for her and helping her see that she has a way out of the sorry mess she’s in, then I will do just that.
This moment has been too long coming. Why have I been torturing myself over something that’s easily solved? Darlene is only staying in this sham of a marriage because she feels trapped. Trapped by her duty, trapped by her circumstance, and God knows what else. Reid has a hold over her, I’m sure of it, and I need to break it and set her free. Free to be with me. I can make her happy if she would just allow me the chance.
The chemistry between the two of us is undeniable; it’s been there from the moment we met. I’ve never felt that tied to someone before, and I’ve had my fair share of women, some that I’ve allowed to stick around but none that I could imagine wanting to spend the rest of my life with. The music we could make together has endless possibilities.
She gets me. I get her. I can’t let her go.
The last time I saw Darlene I was blinded by her tears. I believed in the aforementioned notion that to let her go would be the kindest love I could give her. But I’ve wised up. After just this short amount of time apart I have turned into a pathetic mess. No woman has been enough to help me forget her and Lord knows they’ve tried. No amount of booze quenches my thirst for her and the music that once saved me only reminds me of our brief but amazing time together.
My dad used to say that if it can’t be solved with booze and blues then it couldn’t be solved at all. He was a jackass.
I can solve this.
Winter Blues Page 23