Drew + Fable Forever (Novella)

by Murphy, Monica

  Before I push inside her body, going balls deep. She lets out a startled gasp, her inner walls clenching around me, holding me tight, and I keep still, my entire body straining as I revel in the sensation of being inside my wife.

  “Christ, you feel good,” I murmur as she slowly starts to move. I rest my forehead on her shoulder, one hand on her hip, the other on her breast. She leans forward the slightest bit, changing the angle, helping me move even deeper inside her body, and I lift my hips, earning a ragged moan for my efforts.

  The water splashes as we establish our rhythm, the tub so full of water it spills over the edge and onto the floor. But I don’t care and neither does Fable. We keep moving, keeping pace, our bodies slick and hot. She likes it from behind, says she loves how deep I go inside her body when we’re like this, and I like it, too. I pretty much like every position we try.

  When it comes to Fable, I’m easy like that.

  “Hold on,” she chokes out, then moves forward even more so I have no choice but to slip out of her body. She’s on her knees, her ass in the air, her hands gripping the edge of the tub, and I follow her, thrust deep inside her body as I position myself over her, my chest to her back, my mouth at her ear as I pant dirty words that I know will have her coming in minutes.

  Her moans get louder and she throws her head back, inviting me to kiss her. I blaze a hot path across her neck, along her jaw, her cheek, just before I take her lips. The kiss is awkward but hot, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling. And then her entire body stiffens beneath mine, a choppy little stutter falling from her lips against mine as her orgasm washes over her.

  That’s all the incentive I need to increase my pace, thrusting deep and hard, my own orgasm barreling down on me. I feel it in every part of my body, from the tips of my fingers and toes to the top of my head. Every nerve ending is standing on edge, electric. I push inside her once, feel her body flutter and spasm all around my cock, and then I’m coming, so hard I close my eyes and press against her back, my groan muffled against her shoulder as I drain myself inside her body.

  “Jesus,” I finally mutter seconds, maybe minutes later, our bodies still locked together, the water still sloshing around us. “I thought I was going to pass out for a minute.”

  “It’s—it’s the heat in the room,” she says, sounding breathless. “I feel light-headed, too.”

  I finally move, start to pull out of her, but she reaches around me, keeping me close. “I’m sorry, Drew.”

  I’m surprised by her apology. “For what?”

  “Overreacting. Springing the idea of a baby on you so quickly and expecting you to just go along with it. It was unfair of me.” She kisses my lips, my chin, then my jaw, her lips soft and warm and full of comfort.

  “I overreacted, too,” I say as I slowly pull out of her and then grab her by the waist, tugging her into my lap again. The cooling water sloshes and splashes; the bathroom is a fucking mess, but I could really give a shit. “I’m sorry, baby. From now on, let’s try not to get all caught up in someone else’s life, you know? Sometimes it’s okay to plan, not just trying to randomly procreate and make a baby.”

  Her eyes narrow and I worry for a second that I offended her. “You have such a way with words sometimes, Drew Callahan,” she drawls, then scrambles out of my lap so she can stand in the middle of the tub, her gaze locked on the floor. “Holy shit, I think half the bathwater is on the floor.”

  We both laugh and help each other out of the tub, then throw down as many towels as we can find on the floor to sop up all the water. She pulls on a white terry-cloth robe provided by the hotel that overwhelms her completely, the collar puffed up around her neck, the hem of the robe dragging on the still damp floor. I dry off and follow her out into the room, where she sheds the robe and crawls into bed. I follow her, pulling her close and holding her to me.

  “Well, I know we don’t do it very often, but there is one really good thing about arguing with each other,” she says after a few quiet moments when I’m about to drift off to sleep. Hell, I know it’s not even six o’clock, but a nap sounds damn good right about now.

  “What is it?” I ask, my voice a low murmur, my eyes tightly closed.

  “Hot make-up sex.” She skims her fingers down my chest, a little laugh escaping her. “That was kind of amazing, Drew.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” I smile. “Let’s sleep on it and then I’ll be ready for round two.”

  “Round two? How are you going to top that?”

  “Watch me.”

  Fable

  “Are you okay?” Jen slides into the booth across from me, her dark eyes full of concern as she studies me. I haven’t seen Jen in the long time since I’ve been gone and with everything that’s happened lately, I needed to come home.

  So I did. I asked Owen to stay with me for a while even though he has his own place, and we’ve been hanging out. It’s been nice. It feels good, being here.

  But I’m also running away from my problems, avoiding them. Avoiding my husband. I need to tell him what’s going on …

  Later.

  Sniffing loudly, I shake my head, parting my lips to dump the entire story on Jen when the waitress approaches, asking if we want coffee. I asked my closest friend to meet me at a breakfast place none of us ever frequent, clear on the other side of town. I want no one to hear anything we have to say. This secret I’m about to reveal is huge.

  And Drew is going to probably kill me when he finds out.

  “I’d like some, thanks,” Jen tells the waitress before she chances a glance at me. “Do you?”

  Ugh. Just the thought of coffee makes my stomach recoil. And I lived on the stuff up until a few weeks ago. “No, thank you. Maybe some juice, though. I don’t know, orange juice?”

  The waitress looks at me, her pen poised on her order pad. “You want it, then? Orange juice?”

  Do I? I feel like I can’t make a decision to save my life at the moment. “Yes,” I say firmly with a nod. “Orange juice. And a glass of water, too.”

  “Anything else? Something to eat? We have a pumpkin spice French toast special,” she suggests. “It’s delicious.”

  My stomach revolts. God, that sounds disgusting. “No thanks,” I say between my teeth, handing her the menus she left at the table when I first got there, just about five minutes before Jen arrived. “I’m good.”

  “Me, too,” Jen says. “I already ate.”

  The waitress leaves us alone and Jen glances around, then leans across the table, her voice low. “What’s wrong with you? Tell me. I’m in a panic here. When I got your voice mail, you sounded so freaked out you scared me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s not that big of a deal. Well, it sort of is.” Swallowing hard, I try to come up with the best way to say this. But it’s only Jen. She’s not going to judge. She might think I’m an idiot but she definitely won’t judge. May as well state it plainly. “I’m pregnant.”

  A pause as the words sink in and I watch her reaction. It’s rather fascinating, really. Her eyes light up, her lips part, and color blooms in her cheeks. Her excitement is a palpable thing as she looks ready to squeal, then slaps her hand over her mouth at the last moment so all I see are wide, shock-filled brown eyes. “Really?” she asks, her voice muffled against her fingers.

  I slowly nod. “Really.”

  The waitress arrives at that precise moment, flipping over the coffee cup that sits upside down on the saucer in front of Jen before pouring the steaming brown liquid into the white mug. The bitter scent reaches my nostrils, making me wrinkle my nose, and I rest a hand over my stomach, hoping like crazy I don’t puke right here in the middle of this tiny coffee shop.

  This is how I knew I was pregnant in the first place. Every little scent, every smell, especially either perfume or food, and I want to hurl. It’s a horrible feeling. My stomach is constantly nauseous and I’m so tired all the time. All I want to do is nap.

  “How?” Jen breathes out th
e question as soon as the waitress leaves. She tears into three creamers and dumps them all into the coffee, then tears open a bunch of sugars and dumps those in, too. I watch her with a grimace on my face I can feel. Ugh, that’s gross.

  Then her question sinks in and I want to laugh. “How do you think?” I wish the waitress would bring my orange juice, my water, or both. I’m dying of thirst.

  “Well, I know how.” Jen rolls her eyes. “But I thought you were on the pill.”

  “I am. That’s the thing. I don’t know what happened.” That’s the part that scares me the most. He’s going to think I somehow tricked him into this. I talk about getting pregnant, we fight, we make up, we have amazing, hot, toe-curling sex for the rest of the night, and then five weeks later, I figure out I’m pregnant. It had to be that night.

  I’m afraid he’s going to believe I set this up. I don’t want him mad at me.

  The waitress reappears yet again with my drinks and she sets them on the table, smiling down at me. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

  “I’m fine,” I say and Jen says the same, so the waitress leaves.

  “How far along are you?” Jen asks the second we’re alone again.

  “Five or six weeks. I took a pregnancy test last week.”

  “And you haven’t told Drew yet? You’ve been holding this in for an entire week?” Jen shakes her head and sips from her cup. “I would’ve burst by now.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve known for at least two weeks; I was just too damn scared to take the test and have it confirmed.” Sighing, I glance at the glass of orange juice and realize I don’t want it after all. Water is safer. “Wouldn’t Colin freak out if you got pregnant right now?”

  “Well, yeah.” Jen shrugs. “But we aren’t married yet. We’re in no hurry. We’re definitely in no hurry to have kids yet, either.”

  Their relationship is kind of weird. As in, they’re completely and totally committed to each other but neither of them feels the need to make it legal. It works for her, it works for him, and they’re the only ones who really matter in this relationship, so who am I to judge?

  “You two have been together for years and you’re married, so I’d think Drew would be thrilled you’re having a baby,” Jen continues, sending me a pointed look. “Unless you’re the one who’s really unhappy? Because I know where we could go and get things taken care of.”

  “Oh my God, no,” I breathe, the idea of doing what she’s suggesting flashing a big red no in my brain. “I’m not against that sort of thing but I want this baby, Jen. I want it more than anything.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  She makes it sound so simple. I launch into the story of what happened in Boston. Hanging out with Amanda Thomas and her baby, telling Drew I wanted one, fighting over it, coming to the compromise that we’ll wait.

  And now I’m pregnant.

  “He’s going to shit,” I say after I explain everything.

  “He’s also going to think you did this on purpose,” Jen adds.

  “My biggest fear of all.” Propping my elbows on the edge of the table, I rest my head in my hands and stare down at my legs, at my still flat stomach. Will I soon not be able to see my legs at all? Will I have a giant belly that’ll make me waddle and look like an idiot? What if I get all bloated? Will Drew still find me attractive?

  “You need to tell him,” Jen says, her voice soft. “Where is he?”

  “He left for Chicago.” I drop my hands and look at her. I feel tears threaten and I blink them away. I can’t cry. I’ve cried enough this last week to fill a freaking river. I never do that. I’m a complete mess. “I was going to tell him last weekend but I chickened out.”

  “Does Owen know?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “He’d tell Drew. He’d tell everyone. He can’t keep a secret.”

  “Are you having morning sickness?”

  “More like morning, noon, and night sickness,” I say wryly, then take another sip of my water. “Plus I always want to take a nap. I told Owen I’m sick and that’s why I came back here, but that excuse is only going to hold up for so long.”

  “That’s why you need to tell your husband you’re having his baby.” She stares hard at me. “You quit taking the pill when you suspected it, right?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” I nod. My body had felt different a few days after I came home from Boston. I can’t quite describe it, but … I knew. Not at that precise moment, but something was up. I quit taking my pills a week later, figuring I’d go to the doctor for a different prescription.

  Instead, I found myself knocked up.

  “Are you going to Chicago this weekend?” Jen asks.

  “No, I’m staying here. The weather is for crap, and I don’t think I’d be up to traveling anyway. I told Drew I was sick, too,” I admit miserably.

  “Oh, Fable. You gotta be honest with him. He’s your man, your husband, and now the father of your child. He might be shocked, but he’ll get over it. What’s done is done. And he’s going to be happy. Trust me.” Jen smiles and I want to agree with her. I want to be confident that Drew won’t be upset or think I did something to deceive him.

  But I’m scared. This is something Mom would do. In fact, she did just this with Owen’s father, who I can barely remember, he was in and out of our life so quickly. They weren’t married, but they were pretty steady for a short, intense period of time.

  Then she got pregnant, told him, and he bailed. I don’t remember the details because I’d been young and I didn’t care, but here I am, so proud of the fact that I changed my path. I’d been sure I was going to turn into my mother. I looked like her, I was working the same sort of jobs as her, I had the same reputation. Then I met Drew and he changed everything.

  My true colors slip out every once in a while, though, and bleed all over my new life. The old me isn’t completely out of my system yet. Though I hadn’t planned any of this, had not tricked him on purpose, something happened. Perhaps I forgot to take a pill or took one too late? Had it been some sort of subconscious thing? I don’t know.

  All I know is I’m frightened of my husband’s reaction when he finds out.

  Chapter Eight

  Fable

  I wake up from yet another nap to find Owen standing above my bed, his expression one of incredulity as he watches me.

  “What’s wrong?” I scramble into a sitting position, smoothing my hair with shaking fingers. Everyone makes me nervous lately and I blame hormones. And the fact that I’m hiding a major secret that weighs on my chest like a solid steel beam, crushing my heart and making me anxious.

  “I was, uh, just watching some gossip show on TV and it said you’re pregnant.” He pauses, his eyes so wide they look ready to bug out of his head. “Is it true?”

  “What?” I stumble out of the bed, tripping over my feet, and I nearly fall. Owen dodges toward me, gripping my arm and saving me from landing on my ass. “What gossip show did you see this on? And since when do you watch gossip shows?”

  “Never mind that, who cares about that shit? What I want to know is the truth.” He pauses, staring at me, suddenly looking so very wise and adult. I almost want to squirm under his stare and I wonder if he picked that look up from me. “Are you pregnant, Fable?”

  I don’t answer him. Instead, I yank out of his grip and go to the bedside table, grabbing my phone to see if I have any text messages.

  Oh, and I definitely do. My heart sinks. They’re all from Drew, asking that I call him, each one more frantic than the next, and there’s a voice mail from him, too. With a shaking finger, I press play and listen to it.

  Fable, I need you to call me, baby. There are reports that you’re pregnant all over the internet and the publicists are asking me if it’s true. I told them it wasn’t, but I guess there’s talk of a reliable source and they heard it straight from your mouth or whatever. Anyway. Call me. We gotta talk. Now. Love you.

  Closing my eyes, I press my lips together, the
phone still clutched to my ear even though the message is over. I’m wobbly on my feet, my head is spinning, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily on the mattress. I crack open my eyes to find Owen still staring at me, though now he looks positively freaked out.

  “You’ve been weird for weeks, telling me you’re sick or whatever. You sleep all the time and you’re not eating. I’ve heard you puke a few times.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Fuck me, you are pregnant, aren’t you?”

  I can’t even work up the energy to protest, let alone scold him for saying “fuck.” “Fine. Yes, I’m pregnant.”

  He gapes at me, for once in his life at a loss for words. “Holy shit, Fabes. Does Drew know?”

  “He’s gonna know in about two minutes, so can you give me some privacy?” My heart sinks to my stomach at the realization that I’m about to deliver news to Drew that’s going to change our lives completely. And he might be angry about it, too.

  “Yeah, sure, Fabes.” As if in a daze, Owen leaves my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  I sit on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, rehearsing in my head what I’m going to say to Drew.

  Remember how I wanted to have a baby? Well, guess what?

  Yay, I’m pregnant!

  Drew, you’re going to be a daddy.

  Please don’t be mad at me.

  I love you.

  Ugh.

  Deciding to just go for it, I hit his number and put the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. He answers after the first one.

  “There you are. I was freaking out,” he says, sounding a little frantic. “Where were you?”

  “Taking a nap,” I say, swallowing hard. Now that I have him on the phone, it’s hard for me to actually do this. To say the words, I’m pregnant.