“It’s okay, I understand, Amanda,” she said. “Besides, it’s going better. God, she’s grown, huh?” Sophie asked, ruffling Rosa’s head of curls, trying to divert the attention from herself.
“Yeah, you should see how much she eats and she started walking. Kind of.” As she said it, the two watched Michael set Rosa down on the grass. He held her hand as she took three steps before plopping down onto her bottom.
Amanda and Sophie giggled. “She’s sweet,” Sophie said.
Amanda turned to her and Sophie realized how badly she hid her emotions. “Hey, you never know what will happen. You’re young and healthy, Michael’s old but healthy,” she said, making a face at Michael as she poked Sophie with her bony elbow. “You just don’t know what will happen,” she said again. Amanda was the only one of the family they’d told about the miscarriages. Sophie wasn’t ready to tell the rest of his family just yet. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
The next hour dragged as they ate cake and everyone watched Rosa taking her few steps here and there. Sophie poured herself a large glass of Prosecco, her favorite sparkling wine, and watched the family and friends engage in easy conversation. There were about thirty people total; several kids but mostly friends of her in-laws. Her mother-in-law had greeted her as usual and Sophie tried to remember the differences between the cultures, tried to remember the fact that this was her husband’s mother. Her father-in-law was the opposite, treating her no differently than he did his daughters. In the end, she wondered how much was her own doing as she stood alone in the kitchen watching them talk and laugh. The language certainly didn’t help, but there was more to it than that.
She swallowed a large sip and went to the bathroom. At least Karen wasn’t here yet. She hoped they could leave before she got here, but knew she was out of luck when she heard her voice as she exited the bathroom.
Her already tense stomach tightened even more and she hoped she could get to Michael before running into his older sister.
Karen hadn’t ever even pretended to like her. Although this was Sophie’s first marriage, it was Michael’s second. He’d been married to Karen’s best friend, Carly, before he’d met Sophie. Sophie always had the impression Karen blamed her for their divorce even though they’d been legally separated when he moved to the States. And Michael said it had been over long before they’d actually parted ways.
Their first trip to Holland had been a surprise for Sophie. Michael had arranged everything. Once she’d gotten on the airplane, Sophie had been so excited to meet his family, see where he was from, see Amsterdam. It was her first trip overseas. The greeting she’d had though had been less than welcoming. It had, in fact, been extremely uncomfortable. Michael had realized his mistake, the fact that he was bringing her over too soon, before the ink had dried on the divorce papers was how Karen had put it. His mother put so much weight in Karen’s opinions that Sophie had never even had a chance.
“Hey.” Amanda was standing in the kitchen when Sophie walked in. She was obviously waiting for her.
“Hey,” she said. “What is it?” Amanda’s face was strange and she looked out the window onto the garden.
Sophie followed her line of vision, some very possessive side of her coming alive. Michael stood talking to a woman, a very attractive woman, who had one hand on his arm and one hand on the head of a child who looked about two. She was smiling as she stared up at Michael’s face.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
Amanda shook her head and turned to Sophie. “That’s Carly. Michael’s ex-wife.”
It was as though someone pulled the rug out from under Sophie’s feet. The sensations that ran over her body, a result of the emotions that flooded her system, were ones she didn’t have words for. To say she felt jealousy wasn’t right, at least not entirely. Anger? No, that wasn’t it. At least not at Michael. Inadequate? In a way, yes. This woman fit in here like she didn’t. Like she never would.
“Is the little girl hers?” she asked, knowing the answer already. She could feel Amanda’s look of pity from the corner of her eye.
“Yes, she’s two. Carly had him with some guy after she and Michael broke up.”
“She’s married then?”
“No, it was a boyfriend, but he’s out of the picture. Has been for a while.”
This was getting better and better.
Michael laughed out loud. She could hear it all the way inside. If she’d felt an outsider before, it was doubly true now.
“Hey.” Amanda’s hand was on hers. “You okay?”
“Why is she here?” Sophie asked, her eyes still on the woman outside. Michael’s ex-wife was attractive, older than she was but good-looking. In fact, Sophie had to admit she looked good standing next to him. And she had a child to boot. Instant family.
His father and Karen joined the conversation.
“My very insensitive sister brought her. I’m sorry, Sophie.”
Sophie picked up her glass of wine and drank it down. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”
“There’s your mommy,” came Michael’s mom’s voice from behind them.
“Rosa,” Amanda turned, taking the crying girl into her arms.
“She fell down while playing, scraped her knee,” her mother-in-law, Grace, said.
“Come here, baby,” Amanda said. “Mommy will make it better.” She carried the little girl off and left Sophie and Grace in the kitchen.
“Sweet baby,” Grace said. The two looked at each other.
“She is,” Sophie said.
“You and Michael will have them soon enough. He’s always wanted lots of children. How about you, Sophie? You’re young still, but you want kids too?” she asked.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “We’re just waiting until we settle.” Why she needed to tell that lie she didn’t know.
“Is that Carly?” her mother-in-law asked when the sound of Carly’s loud laughter came in from the garden.
“From what I gather.”
There was a moment of silence and Sophie saw what passed for concern in the older woman’s gaze. But in the next instant, it was replaced with a smile as one of her friends came into the kitchen. Sophie quietly excused herself, happy to have put the car keys into her purse as she slipped out the front door unnoticed.
* * *
Michael entered the kitchen, his anger just barely harnessed. “Where’s Sophie?” he asked his mother, his tone clipped.
“She was right here,” his mom began.
Karen came fast on Michael’s heels. “Michael, I think the way you walked away from Carly was rude,” she began.
He cut her off. “You inviting my ex-wife to a party without telling me was rude,” he almost exploded at her. “Where’s my wife?” he asked his mother again.
“I don’t know. She was here a minute ago.”
The sound of a car starting had him turn his head in the direction of the window that overlooked the street. “Shit!” he said, watching as Sophie drove away. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked his sister once more, not expecting an answer. “Mom,” he said, looking at her. “I hope you didn’t have anything to do with this.”
She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t…”
“She’s a friend, Michael. What makes you think I invited her for you?” Karen blurted out.
He turned to her. “Don’t you dare start…” he began.
Just then Amanda entered the room carrying Rosa. “There he is,” she said to her baby. Rosa reached for Michael and Michael ran a hand through his hair.
“Hey, kiddo,” he began, taking her into his arms. “It’s time for me to go, but we’ll see you in a few weeks at our house, okay? I forgot one of your gifts there,” he teased, tickling her belly.
She wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her tiny little body, closing his eyes.
“Why did you invite Carly? You knew Michael and Sophie wo
uld be here, Karen. Christ, are you so heartless?” Amanda asked.
At that moment, Carly entered the kitchen. Karen shook her head at Amanda and walked outside, taking Carly with her.
“Mandy, can I borrow your car?” asked Michael.
“Where’s Sophie?” she asked, looking around.
“She just drove off. Christ,” he exhaled, shaking his head. “Seeing my ex with her two-year-old is probably just what she needed. She had two miscarriages, Mom. She may never be able to have one of her own.”
“Oh my God, Michael. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell us?” his mom asked.
“Because you’ve always made her feel so unwelcome!”
Mandy held her keys out to him.
“I’ll drop it off at your house tomorrow.”
“No, leave it there. I’ll come by and see Sophie next week. I’ll pick it up then.”
“Thanks,” Michael said, unable to even pretend to smile as he walked out the door.
* * *
Sophie wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, why she’d left the party like she had. It was just too much. First his family, the anxiety she always felt around them. Then to see his ex-wife with her baby, with her hand on Michael’s arm as he laughed with her. She shook her head and wiped away a tear. Michael was going to be pissed she’d left. They were going to fight again, and just when things were getting better, just when she’d started to open up to him.
“Shit!” she said, taking a wrong turn. Her driving in Holland was a disaster. The traffic laws were different and she swore they had more one-way streets than the whole of the US, not to mention the canals you had to navigate. Or the trams. Or the bikers and the people. At least when she got home, there was a parking spot available on the next street over. She parked the Volvo in the tight space, shut off the car, and took a deep breath, forcing herself to exhale slowly.
Now what?
She’d left without a word to her husband. She’d taken their car and left him there. She pulled out her cell phone and looked at the display to find three missed calls, all from Michael. She was about to dial him back when a knock at her car window startled her.
It was Michael.
She unlocked the door, but didn’t have a chance to open it before he did.
“You okay?” he asked as she stepped out.
She nodded. “Sorry I left you there. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
“Let’s go inside and talk,” he said.
She nodded and he took the keys from her hand, locking the door and leading her toward their house. Once they were inside, he settled her on the couch.
“You want something to drink?” he asked. “I could use a beer.”
“Me too.”
He nodded, went to the kitchen and returned with two opened bottles of beer. She took the one he held out for her, but didn’t sip. He remained standing and drank half of his.
“I didn’t know she’d be there,” he said.
“I know you didn’t.”
“They why did you leave like that?”
She turned her head away, standing herself now. She walked to the bookshelf, then turned to face him again. “Because I watched you with Rosa. You’re different around her, around all kids from what I’ve seen. You want to be a dad, Michael. I’m not sure I can ever give you that.” Tears overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to go on. “And then she was there, your ex. With her beautiful little girl. She could give you babies. And she’d fit in better. Your family obviously loves her. Maybe you and Karen could mend your relationship too if I weren’t standing in the middle of it. Maybe we’d better just figure it out now. Maybe we’re not meant to be together.”
“Christ, Sophie. What the fuck are you saying? What are you thinking?”
She straightened her spine. “Look, even what we’ve been doing. You’re doing it for me; it’s not like you want it.”
“That’s separate from this, Sophie. And you’re wrong. More wrong than you know on that score. And as far as what I want, I’ll decide that.” He walked away, then turned back to her a few moments later. “You want me to feel sorry for you, Soph? Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Is it easier that way?”
A defensive anger tightened her lip.
“Well, is that it? Have I hit a nerve? Sophie,” he asked, stepping closer and taking her arms. “You won’t let yourself get over it. The miscarriages were not your fault. Not being ready to try again isn’t your fault. Hell, we don’t even know what the problem is, but you won’t give us a chance to figure it out! You’re stuck feeling sad and sorry for yourself. Well, I’m over it.”
“Then why don’t you just leave! If you’re over it, over me, then leave. Go back to your ex.” Her throat tightened and a tear slid from her eye. “If that’s what you want, just go! A readymade family just for you! You’re not tied to me, I’ll give you a divorce…”
Sophie stopped, her eyes suddenly wide as the bottle Michael held snapped in his hand. It dropped to the floor and rolled away as he approached her. She looked at the carpet, the liquid spreading over it, the blood dripping from his palm. But when his hands closed roughly over her arms and shook her hard, she looked up at him.
“I want you. I love you. I’m not over you, I’ll never be over you. I am, however, over you feeling sorry for yourself and not giving us a chance to be happy. Yes, I want babies; that hasn’t changed, it’s probably not going to change. But I’m not willing to give you up in exchange for a family. I want a family with you. When the hell are you going to get that through your thick head?” he asked, his anger barely contained as he shook her again. “Christ, Sophie, what the hell do you want from me?”
* * *
Michael looked down at her. She stood with her back pressed against the bookcase, her expression strange as she stared up at him. One arm was red from his blood where he’d cut his hand, but both his hands were white-knuckled. Her hands were at his chest, but she wasn’t pushing him away.
In that moment, something clicked. Something fell into place. He’d been worried, afraid ever since the start of this that he’d be hurting her. But looking down at her now, trapped between his body and the bookcase, her pupils dilated, her nipples hard against his chest, he understood what she needed from him and realized at the same time she may not know the full extent of it herself.
“I’ll get something to clean this up,” she said when he loosened his hold on her.
“Leave it for now,” he said, his tone changing a little. “Go up to the attic. Close the curtains, get undressed, and stand in the corner waiting for me.”
“Michael,” she said, her eyebrows raised. “I don’t really feel like it.”
Her challenge made every muscle in his body tense and Sophie sensed it. He knew it by the minuscule change in her expression.
“I didn’t ask you what you were in the mood for,” he said, his voice quiet, frighteningly so.
She took a moment to process, still staring up at him. “Are you going to spank me?” she asked, her voice soft. There was no longer a tone of defiance in her question.
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Because I think you need me to, for one thing. Because you took off like you did and didn’t trust me enough to just come talk to me, for another.”
She digested that.
“You’re my wife, Sophie. And I think I’m beginning to understand what you want. We’re changing the way we do things around here, starting now.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice more tentative.
“I don’t think what you want is an erotic spanking now and again. I think you want more than that. Is that true, Sophie?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You want me to take the lead in a way I haven’t before and I understand that now. Do you think you deserve to be punished for running off like you did, for not trusting me enough, still, afte
r what we’ve been doing, to come talk to me?”
She looked at him for a while, dropped her gaze to the floor before returning it to his to answer his question. “Yes.”
“Then you consent?” he asked.
She nodded a quick, nervous nod.
“Say it, Sophie.”
She licked her lips. “I consent to being punished.”
He nodded. “Good girl. Now go upstairs and get ready.”
She opened her mouth, but had no response. When after a moment she didn’t move, he gestured toward the stairs, dismissing her. She took one last look at him, obviously trying to gauge if he was serious, and went.
“Sophie,” he called out just when she reached the stairs.
She turned.
“Pick out your favorite belt on your way up,” he said.
Her face paled a little as she nodded and disappeared up the stairs.
Chapter Eleven
Sophie’s clit was throbbing before she even reached their bedroom. Anticipation set her pussy on fire, but it was Michael’s tone that made her belly quiver. She walked into their shared closet and looked at the row of neatly hanging belts. If she looked at her shelves, they were a bit of a mess. Michael’s, on the other hand, were absolutely organized. Everything had its place and things were folded, put away, neat, completely the opposite of her. But he’d never criticized her sloppiness.
She ran her hand over the row of belts even though she already knew the one she’d choose. She knew it the moment he had told her to do it. It was an old belt, one he’d had for longer than they’d been married. A heavy Italian leather, well-worn and thick but malleable, soft enough to manage, strong enough to deliver the punishment she needed and expected. She took it from its place and doubled it over, her sex pure heat as her buttocks quivered in anticipation.
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