by Jane Lark
“Why didn’t you remind me? You aren’t on meds!” She pushed me away and smacked my shoulder.
“Because he’s with Mom and Dad. He’s fine.”
Her eyes accused me of not loving Saint enough.
She challenged me as much as herself. She challenged everything lately. She’d been bruised inside by her error. But she was really sick and the meds they’d given her to make her better were making her judgments even more distorted. So I was letting her get away with insecurity and accusations against me, but I wouldn’t lie, they cut.
She broke away from me, turned, moved her purse over on to a shelf beside the bed, then collected her stuff from the suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom. Her movements had been hurried and twitchy with anger. When she came back in she was wearing a t-shirt only and she’d wiped off her make-up, ready to get into bed.
I went into the bathroom and got ready too. I washed my face and stared at myself in the mirror. It had been a long year. My life had turned around completely.
When I went back into the bedroom, I stripped off my jeans and my tee, but left my boxers on. I switched off the main light, then got into bed, and switched off the lamp on the nightstand. “Do I get a cuddle?” I said into the darkness.
“Yeah.”
I lifted my arm and she shuffled over and leaned on my shoulder. But I figured it wasn’t a night for sex. I wasn’t getting that vibe from her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rachel
Sunlight poured through the transparent curtains. Jason was sitting on the bed, looking at me, and the TV was on. “What?” I breathed from a croaky throat.
“It’s eleven-thirty; you’ve had twelve hours’ sleep.”
He knew what that meant. It meant my mood had dropped. I was morose and tired when my mood was low—but it didn’t have to mean the meds were wearing off, the meds made me sleepy anyway.
“Do you want to call Saint, then go for a run?” He also knew that running was a good trigger for helping me lift my mood.
I sat up. “I’d like to call Mom and speak to Saint.” Jason was fully clothed in running gear, he looked like he’d been up for ages waiting for me to wake up. He got up and walked over to pick my cell up from the nightstand, then threw it on to the bed next to me.
My heart raced as I looked up Mom and Dad’s number. An image of Saint hovered in my head¸ the one of him laughing for the first time last week. I touched the call icon for their home number. It rang about five times as my heart pounded out the seconds.
“Hello. This is Mrs. Macinlay.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Rachel. How are you?”
“We’re okay. We walked around where Jason used to live last night. Is Saint okay?”
“Yes, dear, he’s fine.”
“Did he sleep okay?”
“Yes, all through the night. We’ve put him in our room as he’s used to sleeping in with you and Jason.”
“Thanks…” I sighed the word out in relief. Saint was okay. Yet… What if he didn’t miss me because I was such a crappy mom? That thought made me want him not to be okay, but that made me feel more of a shitty mom. “Could you put the phone to his ear?”
“He’s with Grampy, wait a moment, I’ll take the phone to them.” The line was silent for a while then she said, “Here you are.”
I heard breathing. “Saint, it’s Mommy. Hello, sweetheart.” There was a slight catch in his breath, that said he knew my voice.
Jason came over to the bed and bent down near my cell. “It’s Daddy too.”
“I miss you. I love you,” I whispered into the cell.
“We miss you and we love you,” Jason said loudly, before he straightened up.
Why did I keep judging Jason badly? He was here to fight for Saint. He wanted to adopt Saint. Of course he loved him too. If I kept doubting him, I was going to push him away. I had to stop my head from doubting him.
His mom came back on. “Saint was smiling and listening like he was trying to work out where you were in the room.”
“Give him lots of cuddles and kisses from us. I’ll call again tonight.”
“Okay, call as often as you want, and we’re going to cuddle him all day long.” Jason’s mom had become my mom too. She was really patient with my weirdness and paranoia.
“Thank you. Bye.”
“Goodbye, Rachel, give our love to Jason.” The call went dead.
I looked up at him. “She sends you their love. Saint smiled.”
Jason smiled at me, with his mouth shut. I wanted him to give me a big full-on broad smile. I wanted to smile like that too—I wanted my meds to wear off so that I could smile like that again.
“I’ll get up and go running with you.” I threw the comforter back. I had to walk past him because the room wasn’t very wide. He smacked my ass.
“Good girl.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. The smile pulling at my lips had a warmth that came from my belly. Maybe my meds had started wearing off.
I turned around and looked at him. “I’m sorry I shouted at you last night.”
“It’s okay, you’re forgiven.” He shrugged it off.
We ran down to Prospect Park, one of the places we used to run when I’d lived with him here. I hadn’t run with him for weeks and it meant he had to go a lot slower, but Jason had never cared about that, he’d always made it clear he liked running with me.
Just by living with him, I held him back—but he kept saying he didn’t care.
Blood pulsed in my arteries and my muscles flooded with energy, as the sounds of the city absorbed and consumed me while we ran: cars, cabs, people. Jason had his earphones in, but I hadn’t put any music on, I was just running to the heartbeat of New York.
When we got into the park, the noisy sounds of the city drifted into the distance and the closer noise became the birds amidst the jewel-like colors of the leaves on the trees that had changed for the fall, and there were kids and some guys playing a game of baseball. We ran a circuit around the park, then ran back to the hotel, I was breathing hard when we arrived and I doubled over in the elevator trying to get my breath back, but it was a good sort of breathless.
Jason had pulled out his earphones and they dangled from his neck, still playing music.
“What are you listening to?”
He gave me a smile that was a little wider than any other smile I’d had from him today. “The compilation you gave me last Christmas.”
I straightened up as a sound of humor slipped out of my throat. I smiled at him with parted lips. I loved him so much, it gripped in my belly as well as my chest and sent a tingle through my nerves into my muscles, that were warm from running.
When we reached our room and shut the door behind us it was like we shut out the world.
He’d said on Halloween we’d become us again because we’d had risky sex in the garden.
Now I felt like we’d become us again.
He took his cell out of his pocket and put it on the nightstand, then stripped off his sweaty top and tee. He was good to look at, his body did stuff to my belly too, and what it did to my belly was as powerful as what his love did to my heart, but this feeling didn’t touch my heart. I smiled even wider at him when he turned around and flashed his sinewy, sculpted abdomen at me.
“What?” he asked of my smile.
“Nothing. Are you gonna have a shower?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I get in with you?”
“Yeah.” He sent a smile, like mine, right back at me.
I pulled off my top as he stripped off his jogging pants and walked into the bathroom naked. I heard the shower turn on as I undid my bra. I took my panties off, then headed for the bathroom.
He’d pulled the shower curtain halfway across the bath, so I could still get in around it. He was standing under the stream of water, with his back to me, letting the water run over his short hair. His hand lifted and brushed across his head. I stepped over the side of the bath
and moved forward. My hands settled on his lean hips, then slid down, my thumbs following the curve of his tight butt.
He turned and then his hand was at the back of my head and his lips came down on to mine. I opened my mouth to press my tongue into his, but he beat me to it, his tongue passing through my lips. I sucked it slightly then bit it gently. A growl left his throat, then his hands were at the back of my thighs, just below my bottom. My arms wrapped around his neck so he could lift me.
He pressed me against the tiles as he slid into me, filling me up with a hard, slow pressure.
I kissed his temple and he bit my neck when he withdrew and pressed back in.
His palms held under my thighs, his fingertips pressing into my muscle.
One of my hands clasped the back of his neck, while the other grasped at his shoulder. “Jason,” I said into his ear. All the sex we’d been having in the last week made me feel as though we were clinging to sex, trying to reclaim what had been normal between us. If we had nothing else right between us—we had gotten the sex back to being right.
He shoved into me, over and over, working hard. Working like he loved sex with me, not just loved me.
My orgasm exploded in a swell of sensation, and I cried out. Jason growled and bit my shoulder. I laughed. He just thrust into me harder, glancing down to watch, then he looked back up, right into my eyes.
From the moment I’d met him, I’d had a weird connection to him—or maybe I’d just fancied the hell out of him. But I’d always known we were meant to be together.
My butt and my back bumped against the tiles as the water fell on our sides. I laughed—but it was strange—fake. It came from my throat not my belly.
He kissed my lips. My hand slid up and cradled the back of his head, holding his mouth to mine so we kept kissing as he pressed hard into me over and over until I came again. Then he came with a deep, long sigh that released into my mouth.
He smiled at me, with his lips closed. But, this smile, softened the look of his eyes too and his gaze said, I love you. He was the fixer, he was working hard to fix us, and he was doing it the only way he probably knew how, with sex. I loved him more for trying to heal what had broken in me. He could have chosen to walk away.
He could still choose to walk away. Most guys would.
He withdrew from me, then lowered my legs. “Shall we go to Times Square after we’ve showered?”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” It was where he’d proposed to me, after Christmas, last year. In a few weeks we’d have been married a year.
We washed each other’s hair, ran soapy hands over each other’s bodies, then washed ourselves off under the stream of water, switched it off and stepped out.
While Jason was drying himself with one towel, I wrapped mine around me and picked up my cell.
“Hey, don’t tell me you’re going to call Mom because you didn’t think about Saint while we were having sex?”
A blush flooded my skin. Because that was why.
“He’s okay, and it’s okay not to think about him for half an hour, it doesn’t make you a bad mom.”
But the fear that I was, was part of the one-ton weight pushing me down, and the iron chains holding me there.
I pressed the call icon to ring Mom and Dad.
I didn’t sleep so well, I was drifting in and out of dreams again tonight. Declan was in them, and Jason, and we were in New York with Saint.
Saint was in the river with me, in the deep water of the Hudson. Then I was on Manhattan Bridge in the dark, watching the lights on the shifting water and gripping the grill, getting ready to climb it so I could jump.
I’d have drowned in that water, if I’d jumped from Manhattan Bridge.
The water was cold and dirty, it sucked me under, dragging me down, and then Saint was in my arms, and it was dragging us both down, and trying to pull him away. Declan’s face jeered at me in the murky cold.
“Rach…” Jason’s hand touched my back.
My eyes opened on a moment of another memory, of his hand touching my back the night I’d been climbing the grill, to jump off the bridge. He’d talked me out of it and taken me home with him. “I was dreaming,” I whispered without lifting my head off the pillow I’d made of his chest.
“I know, and it didn’t sound all that good.”
“Nope.”
“The river…”
“Yeah, that and Declan.”
His arm came around me and his hand squeezed my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
That was what he kept saying. But it was Declan we were going up against. Declan didn’t do okay. He did nasty, mean, and cruel. Never okay. Okay as an aim, or a desire, was mediocre. It was losing to Declan. He didn’t do anything without putting all his influence behind it. He didn’t lose. I wanted things to be awesome.
My palm settled on Jason’s bare belly as his breathing slowed and shifted into the soft rhythm of sleep.
I couldn’t sleep.
Maybe my meds were wearing off.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jason
I ran a finger along Rach’s forearm as it rested on top of the covers, to wake her. “Hey, someone wants to say hi to you.”
Her eyes opened, looking at me. She’d been in a deep sleep even though it was already eleven a.m.
“I face-timed Dad, it’s Saint.” I held my iPhone out so she could see him and he’d be able to see her.
She lifted up on to her elbows, smiling instantly. “Saint.”
“He says, good morning, Mommy.”
“Good morning, sweetheart. What are you doing?”
“Playing with Grampy, he’s had his second bottle of milk today and he’s full of beans.” Dad’s voice came through the cell.
Saint was making sweet, babbling, I’m-full-up, happy sounds and he was laying on his back while his legs and arms kicked out like he was doing a little kickboxing routine.
She took the cell out of my hand. “Did Grampy change your diaper?”
“Grampy did not, that is Granny’s task.”
She’d been teasing him about his dislike of diapers since Saint had been born. It was good to hear the humor in her voice. She’d been lacking humor since she’d been on her meds. It was a ray of the Rachel I’d fallen for in the beginning, shining through the gray clouds of the last couple of months.
“So you let Grampy do all the fun bits and leave all the nasty sick and poo to Granny… That’s not fair, Saint, Granny wants playtime too.”
I laughed and tumbled down on the bed beside her, so Saint could see me. But really Rach had to get up, we needed to go. “Dad, we need to get into the office, so I’m going to have to chase Rach out of bed. Saint, say goodbye to Mommy.” Dad’s hand came into view and lifted Saint’s hand to wave at us. Saint made the cutest baby face, with a toothless smile.
I loved my kid. His blood might not be mine, but it didn’t matter, he was my son. I wanted to adopt him, but if I hadn’t been pushing to make him legally mine then maybe we could’ve lived together forever in peace and avoided Mr. Rees paying any attention to us. He wouldn’t have had any reason for this custody fight.
I reckoned this mess was my fault.
“Bye.” Rach pressed a kiss on to her fingertips then blew it off them toward the screen.
I pursed my lips and blew Saint a smacker. “Bye, Saint. Bye, Dad. We’ll call you later.”
“Yes, bye, Rachel. Goodbye, son.”
I pressed the end-call icon, then took the cell out of her hand. “Okay, Rachel Macinlay, you need to get up and we need to go and fight for our kid.”
She gave me a smile, which was not the reaction I’d expected.
“What time did you get up?”
“Two hours ago.” I’d washed, dressed, and just been looking out the window playing games on my cell ever since, leaving her to sleep because I knew she’d had a bad night, dreaming. Off meds Rach had two extremes: never sleeping and sleeping nearly all day and night, but on the meds she was just always a little
bit doped up. I hated her meds more than she did, probably, and that was saying something, but I felt like they were crushing her. She wasn’t anything close to normal on her meds.
I sighed—remembering again that, maybe, who she was now was normal for the not-mentally-sick Rach.
But that was why I’d made another call this morning, before I’d called Mom and Dad, because I needed to know what was right and what was wrong, and so many things didn’t feel right at the moment.
I got up off the bed when she walked into the bathroom. “I called the hospital here this morning!”
She reappeared, holding the door jamb and looking at me, her eyes questioning. “Why?”
“Because, first of all, it would be good for you to have two psychologists to make a statement for you if we end up in a courtroom before a judge fighting to keep Saint and, second of all, because I thought the guy here talked a lot of sense when we saw him last year, and I want you to have a second opinion on the best treatment for you. You don’t feel good on the meds you’re taking, and maybe there’s some other choice.”
“You made an appointment already…”
“Yeah, for the end of next week.”
She turned away and walked into the bathroom, not giving me a clue what she thought about what I’d done. There’d been nothing in her body language and I hadn’t seen her expression.
I sighed and turned around, there was no point in following her in there to push her for a response. Rachel shared things when she wanted, and not when she didn’t. I left her to get her head around the idea. My head was full anyhow. I was getting my brain around what the hell to say to Mr. Rees to stop him pushing for custody. No ideas had come to me yet.
How did I win against a rich guy who could afford billion-dollar lawyers?
I didn’t even really get why he was fighting… He hadn’t wanted Saint to be born. He’d wanted Rach to have an abortion. I still had his stupid scribbled note saying he didn’t want anything to do with the kid if she had it.
So why had he changed his mind?
Because I wanted Saint…
That’s what I thought, that this was between him and me and had nothing to do with Rach or Saint. They’d just gotten caught up in it. When I’d worked for him he’d seen me as a nobody and neither of us had known about our connection when I’d found Rach and she’d moved in with me. It wasn’t until the party he’d had when I saw her picture in his penthouse that I found out who Rach’s abusive ex had been—my boss.