by Karen Ferry
Clenching my teeth, I shake my head. “No. Burn it, please . . . ”
He hesitates, and I turn to look into his eyes.
“I’m okay, I promise. I’m not sad that he’s dead, and if that makes me a horrible person, then so be it.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” he persists, scrutinising me. “Maybe you shouldn’t do anything hasty right now . . . Let it rest for a while and then decide later on?”
Instead of answering, I move to stand up and walk the few steps to pick up my stash of cigarettes and the ashtray hidden behind my balcony door. As I walk back to him, I remove one, light it, and take a deep drag on it. As the smoke swirls between us, I put the ashtray on the table in front of us.
“Please give it to me,” I ask him quietly, and must see how resolved I am, because he pulls out the letter from his jacket and hands it over without saying a word.
I point the tip of the cigarette to one end and watch, mesmerised, as the flame takes hold, before I place it in the ashtray. As we watch it burn, the tension in my body lifts slowly, and I feel lighter somehow. When there’s nothing left but ashes, I put out the cigarette in my hand and take a deep breath.
Tom’s hold on me is gone at last . . . vaporised into the thin air, cleansing me.
I reach my hand out to Daniel, and he stands up to walk towards me, and I gaze lovingly into his eyes when, instead of taking my proffered hand, he places his under my chin. His eyes are gentle, yet serious, and i try my best to reassure him and turn my head a bit to kiss his palm.
“He’s gone, Daniel . . . And . . . I feel free of him at last.”
Daniel smiles crookedly at me. “You’re one remarkable woman, Emma Davenport.”
I grin at him and put my arms around him. “Why, thank you, kind Sir.” I kiss him soundly on his lips, and he chuckles.
“Make love to me, please . . . ,” I whisper and step up on my toes to reach his neck with my mouth, kissing it languidly, revelling in his taste.
His arms tighten around me, and his breathing picks up speed. He bends down and picks me up easily, and I wrap my legs around him as he walks us inside, away from prying eyes.
When he silently places me on my bed and begins to undress me, cherishing me with his mouth, his tongue, his hands, I lose myself entirely to him and let go.
No longer is there darkness, pain, or sorrow in my heart.
There is only hope, happiness, and laughter.
As he takes me softly, worshipping every part of my body, I pour out all my love for him with my words and my touch.
One thought lingers as we come down from our high.
I believe in fairytales again.
EPILOGUE
5 years later . . .
Looking down at my infant daughter sleeping in my arms, a lump forms in my throat.
Holy mother . . . I’m a father!
I swallow and turn my watery eyes to my wife resting on the couch beside me. She looks exhausted, and I can’t say I’m surprised. Getting used to breastfeeding every few hours each night must take its toll and seeing as I can’t help her in that department, I can at least provide some relief whenever our daughter is fidgeting but not for food.
We came home from the hospital only a few days ago, and we’re still trying to get used to the changes Eliza will undoubtedly cause.
But I have faith we’ll manage.
We always do.
Lots of things have happened in our lives the past couple of years.
Emma taking over “Andersen’s Books” proved to be rather challenging because she was still at university at the time, but we were able to keep it afloat throughout her final year, resorting to only hiring other students to help us out when we couldn’t handle everything ourselves. But then came the hurdle of sorting out Emma’s citizenship, and let’s just say that the Danish government was not exactly easy to please...
Again, we pulled through, and the day when Emma became my wife followed shortly after. What with me being a typical guy, I dreaded that she’d run amok planning it.
I should have known my girl wouldn’t like something flashy and big, though, because after I’d proposed and she’d said yes -- and once we’d settled down after our subsequent sexathon -- she asked me if we could simply get married at City Hall, her parents, her Nan and Suzy the only ones attending from her side. When I’d no doubt looked as if I didn’t take her seriously, she’d laughed at me and said, “I don’t need the big, fancy wedding with a couple of hundreds guests that I don’t even know. I just need you.”
So there . . . as usual, she got her way.
I know she’s happy because she tells me so almost every day, but she still suffers from nightmares every once in a while, and it breaks my heart to see her like that. I do wonder if burning that letter from Tom plays a part in why she has them, but we’ll probably never know for sure. However, her nightmares only occur when she’s highly stressed out -- being a shop owner is no easy feat, you know -- so we try to slow things down whenever they start up again.
I look back at my daughter and tuck her closer into my arms. This one was a bit of a surprise, to be honest, but a welcoming one, of course. I’ve taken leave from university and will stay at home with my family for the next six months, and then it’s time to finish my Ph.D. in English History & Literature.
“Don’t be too hard on your mum, wee one,” I whisper to her and kiss her head, careful not to wake her.
“I don’t think she’s able to answer that quite yet, honey.” Emma’s sleepy reply makes me turn my head, and I look at this woman who I adore with everything that I am.
“Maybe not,” I whisper and stand up to place Eliza in her crib beside the couch, before I walk back to Emma and tuck in behind her. I pull her into my arms, spooning her, and sigh happily, a bit tired now.
“Shouldn’t you try to rest a bit longer?” I whisper and kiss her neck.
“A text from mum woke me up,” she answers sleepily. “She wanted to know if she and dad can come visit us in a week.”
“If you think you’ll be up for it, it’s fine with me.”
She stretches languidly, her arse pushing into my crotch, and I grit my teeth.
Not being unable to have sex with her for the next month is going to be hell.
Emma chuckles and reaches a hand behind her until she finds my cock.
“Something tells me that you’re feeling frisky,” she teases me, and I shrug even though she can’t see me.
“I’m always turned on when you’re near me,” I grin, but gasp when her hand takes a firm hold on it and begins to stroke it slowly.
“Sweetheart . . . ,” I warn her, and she sits up carefully before kneeling before me.
“Hush,” she whispers huskily and kisses my cock head through the fabric of my boxers. “I know you’re kind of suffering these days . . . Let me do something about that.”
Without waiting for me to answer, she yanks my underwear down and frees my cock. She hums deeply and licks her lips before her head descends upon it and her mouth closes over the tip, sucking gently.
I hiss loudly. “Fuck, Emma, I’ve missed your mouth . . . ”
As she begins to suck me off in earnest, I place a hand on her cheek, and gaze lovingly into her eyes that never leave mine.
My girl. The strongest person I know . . .
I’m the luckiest man on earth, and I thank the deities above for putting me in her path all those years ago.
I’ll treasure her always.
“So, my dear, how does it feel to be a mother?” Andreas asks me, his voice amused.
I chuckle into the phone resting on my shoulder as I give Eliza her last bottle before her afternoon nap.
“Well, it’s challenging, to say the least, but wait until you see her: she’s absolutely perfect,” I answer, unable to wrench my eyes away from the little bundle of perfection lying in my arms.
“When are you going to visit us again?”
“How does next month sound to you?” he as
ks me, and I smile widely.
“Perfect. Just email me some dates that work for you, and we’ll make sure that the guest room is ready. Oh, and I do hope that Gabrielle will come with you?”
The smile is evident in his voice when he answers me. “I’ll see if I can persuade her to join me.”
“I’ll see if I can’t get a hold of Suzy and Garrett, too. Perhaps I can convince them to leave San Francisco as well, make it a big gathering,” I muse.
“That would be lovely,” Andreas replies excitedly.
Eliza begins to fuss, and I quickly say, “Listen, I have to go, but we’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Of course. Give that darling girl a big kiss from me, Emma. Talk soon, bye.”
As we ring off, I lift my darling girl up to let her rest on my shoulder while I rub her back soothingly.
The past three months have passed in a blur, but having Daniel home has been such a blessing. It’ll be strange once he returns to university to finish his degree, to not have him home every day, but I’m so proud of him for pursuing his dreams.
He’ll become a wonderful teacher.
When I think back on the conversation I just had with Andreas, I murmur to Eliza, “Your uncle will visit us soon, sweetie. Won’t that be fun?”
She burps loudly, and I take that as a ‘yes’.
Andreas thrives in France, and the fact that he has a lady friend now -- a retired nurse, actually -- pleases me to no end. He’s still a bit of a mystery to me, and hasn’t divulged anything about his past, but I’ve long ago accepted that there are parts of him that he wants to keep to himself.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past five years, it’s that you can’t force someone to open up their pasts to you. And that’s okay, actually. I know he’ll let me in when he’s ready.
Rocking Eliza gently in my arms, feeling her weight settle on me, I whisper, “Sleep, darling. Mummy’s here . . . ” Shortly after, I can hear her light snoring, and I stand from my rocking chair to walk to our bedroom, placing her in her crib where she can sleep for the next few hours.
And while she does, I plan on having a lot of fun with her daddy.
As I leave our bedroom, I turn on the baby monitor, determined to hunt him down to have my wicked way with him, and I must be in a nostalgic mood, because I can’t keep my mind from wandering down memory lane.
Five years since I met Daniel . . . and so much has happened.
Who’d have thought that I’d fall for such a geek? That he’d tip my world on its axis, causing me to fall head over heels in love with him by simply waiting patiently for me to give in to his stubbornness?
Even after all this time, he still makes my heart race and my belly erupts with butterflies when he smiles at me; waiting the past few months with being intimate since I gave birth to Eliza has been sheer hell. For the both of us, I think.
I absolutely love my life with him, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
Well, apart from the nightmares, that is.
Sometimes, when things seem to overwhelm me, I make an appointment with Katherine, and although she doesn’t hold all the answers, I always feel more balanced and confident in myself once I leave. I do hope I’ll be able to stop seeing her altogether, of course, but, for now, I’m okay with the fact that I need her help. Or her advice, at least.
Suzy knows everything Tom put me through when I was just a girl, and I actually told her the whole story the day after that dreadful meeting with Steven. It felt liberating . . . even though it hurt at the time. We ended up consuming two bottles of wine, crying in each other’s arms, and Suzy stayed the night at my flat. We had the meanest hangover ever the morning after, but I wouldn’t change that, either, because it meant that Daniel cooked a full, English breakfast for us. A course he’s become very handy with over the years.
I never hear from Steven, and I’ve told Mum and Dad why, of course. No more secrets, no more lies. They understand my reasons, but are saddened by them as well as conflicted; Steven is their son, after all, and you can’t stop loving your children, no matter what they do. At least you shouldn’t.
Should I not have burned that letter? Maybe not. But I can’t do anything about that, and, to be honest, I very rarely think about it anymore.
When I took over the bookshop, I was so frightened of failing, but after I took some business classes, I slowly got the hang of it. Luckily for me, Andreas helped out a lot as well, providing me with invaluable knowledge about the business, but he maintained his distance like he said he would. It can’t have been easy for him, but I respect him for it. It took some sweat and tears -- no blood, thankfully -- but now, five years later, I’m proud of where I am. I’ve even made a couple of deals with a few independently published authors to try to sell their books in my shop, and I truly hope that it’ll be a great success.
Lately, though, I’ve also had the beginnings of a story of my own swirling inside my mind, and I’ve made so many notes, plotting and outlining it, that I feel I am finally ready to start writing it.
Exciting times ahead, eh?
But first . . . Where is my hubby?
I walk downstairs to look for him in the library -- always a good place to start -- and find him sitting at his desk, phone in hand.
“No, mum, I can’t come see you today,” he answers, voice flat.
When I hear who the caller is, I grimace and walk quickly inside the room and stop beside him, rubbing his shoulder in comfort.
That awful mother. Still hasn’t changed at all.
I know that it’s not my place to say anything, but I really wish that Daniel would stop taking her calls. But I suppose he isn’t ready for that yet.
Instead, I move to stand behind him and begin to work out the knots in his shoulders.
“Well, then, I’ll talk to you another time,” he barks into the phone and after he’s pressed the red button to end the call, he tosses it carelessly on his desk, sighing deeply.
“I’m sorry, darling,” I whisper, and lean down to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he swivels around in his chair, grabs my hips, and yanks me down to straddle him. Surprised by his swift movements, I gasp, but it’s soon swallowed by his hungry mouth devouring mine.
“Daniel . . . ,” I sigh when he wrenches his mouth free and his lips trail hungry kisses down my neck, his hands moving my skirt aside, and I move up on my knees so his fingers can find my pussy.
“Christ, I need you, sweetheart,” he growls and, without warning, yanks my thong aside and plunges two fingers inside my slick heat, causing me to moan loudly. His thumb presses down hard on my clit, and I ride his hand, lost in the familiar passion only he is able to give me.
“Fuck me, Daniel,” I gasp, my hands pulling at the zipper on his slacks. “It’s been too long.”
He sits back further in his seat, giving me room to free his cock, and I almost cry when I lose his fingers inside me. His lips are swollen from my kisses, and there’s sweat on his forehead.
Mmm . . . delicious.
When I find that he’s gone commando today, I hum, approving his idea, and I look into his heated eyes.
I miss his glasses.
I move back slightly and yank my top off, followed by my bra, and his mouth closes in on my right nipple.
“Oh god, I want you inside me,” I pant and, without losing his mouth on my breast, I sit up and then down again, his hard cock filling me completely.
We groan in unison as I begin to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until Daniel grabs my arse to set the right pace, angling his hip so the base of his cock hits my clit with every thrust.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I chant, panting, and I pull at his hair.
“Mouth, sweetheart,” he grits out, teeth clenched, and as always, I do as he wish, slamming my lips on his, sucking on his tongue to the rhythm of our lovemaking.
The pleasure is scorching me like always.
I’ll never get my need for him stilled . . . it’s a
ll-consuming. As it should be.
Just as I’m close to unravel entirely, he stills and moans my name in my mouth, and his cock jerks as he spills his load in my pussy. I cry out in utter bliss. I lean forward to kiss him deeply again, our tongues twirling gently, and I wrap my arms around his neck.
Ending the kiss on a satisfied moan, I snuggle closer to him and wait in silence until my hammering heartbeat has settled down, and I revel in his hands caressing my back, my hips, my arse . . .
I kiss him on his neck and whisper, “Thank you,” emotions clogging my throat.
He chuckles. “Not that I necessarily disagree, but why?”
“For this life. For making me believe in fairytales again. And for always being here for me, even when the darkness sometimes comes calling, knocking me back on my feet.”
Daniel tightens his grip around me and whispers, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” I can sense that this moment is just as emotional for him as it is for me, and I brush my lips across his once more, keeping my eyes open the whole time.
We sit like this for a while, kissing, his cock still inside me, as I think back on the day he came into my life.
Meeting him was the best thing that ever happened to me.
He taught me to trust again . . . he taught me the true meaning of love.
But, above all, he taught me to believe in dreams again.
And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
The End
Watch out for Suzy’s story: due to be released in the fall of 2015
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
What a fantastic six months this has been.
There are so many people to thank for helping me while I have been on this very emotional journey, but I have to start with the girls -- my fairies -- of my street team:
Ladies . . . you are funny, loving, quirky, and filled with so much spirit and sass that I wish with all my heart that we could all meet in person one day. Thank you for being there for me whenever I was filled with doubts, and thank you for always being ready for a good laugh. (Remember the “m” word discussion? ;-))