Several Weeks Later...
When a busty young blonde asked me if I were "Mr. Miller's assistant," I nearly lost it. But I didn't. Because public meltdowns weren't my thing. I took a sip of champagne, planning a calm, yet assertive response and hoping that the icy liquid would cool me down.
"Mr. Miller" was actually now my boyfriend, Nate. And although he had three assistants, I definitely wasn't one of them. He had an entire team of assistants, actually: three head assistants; two assistants to assist them: and one assistant whose only job was to schedule his daily meetings and keep all his appointments straight. This might have seemed silly if Nate weren't such a busy man. He was also a billionaire, even though he was only twenty-six. He started and then sold two internet companies and was working on a third.
The busty blonde was the third person at the networking event to ask me if I was his assistant, despite the fact that he'd introduced me to numerous people as his girlfriend when we arrived. I could only assume that it was because at thirty-seven, I was eleven years older than Nate. Also, I was African-American, he was Caucasian, and I wasn't so naive to think that absolutely everyone was completely used to seeing a hunky, young, white billionaire with a much older, darker-complexioned woman. I would have thought this wouldn't have made people automatically think "assistant," though, especially since diverse couples were everywhere in Manhattan. At any rate, no matter why some people were thinking this, it was wearing pretty thin on me. The networking event, which was really more of an excuse for Nate and his circle of wealthy friends to socialize at a lavish party held at an exclusive restaurant, had only started a half-hour earlier, and I was already wondering how soon would be too soon to leave.
I just swallowed my sip of champagne and opened my mouth to reply to the busty blonde when she cut me off.
"Should I take your non-response to mean that you're not Mr. Miller's assistant, then? So, are you a member of the restaurant staff? Because if so, maybe you should see about replenishing some of the items at the buffet when you get the chance. I think we're running a little low on shrimp cocktail. Which is one of Mr. Miller's favorites, I happen to know, and a man like him should be able to have whatever he wants."
I was wearing a short red dress with spaghetti straps studded with dozens of real diamonds. Nate bought it for me when we vacationed in Paris several months earlier. The dress in no way resembled the black-and-white uniforms of the restaurant wait staff. This woman was clearly baiting me, for whatever reason, that, I knew for sure.
Gritting my teeth, I clutched the stem of my champagne flute hard enough to break it. "Nate, or, as you seem to know him, Mr. Miller, is my boyfriend, actually. I'm definitely not part of the wait staff. I'm here as his guest. Of course. And by the way, he doesn't have an assistant; he has assistants, plural. I'm definitely not one of them. So, sorry if you were hoping to meet another assistant to chat with her tonight. Now, whose assistant are you?"
I'd only been this rude in public maybe two or three other times in my life, but I didn't care. I was beyond steamed. So steamed I was trembling slightly.
The young, busty blonde ignored my question and extended a hand, smirking. "I'm Samantha Hadfield. Maybe your boyfriend has told you about me."
I gave her hand the briefest of shakes, more out of knee-jerk social response than anything else. "Justine Marlowe. And excuse me, but just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?"
She actually threw her head back and laughed, revealing a long, slender throat encircled by a ruby necklace that matched her lipstick. "Wow. Nate's got himself a feisty one. That's for sure." She knocked back some of her champagne and then looked me right in the eye. "And what I meant when I said that maybe he's told you about me should be pretty self-explanatory. Has he mentioned my name at all? Have you ever heard him say the name Samantha?" She took a step closer, nearly closing the distance between us. "Like, maybe...during times of intimacy?"
My jaw actually dropped open. A rush of heat flowed through my veins, followed by the sensation of something icy. I noticed that many people milling around the restaurant had stopped talking and were looking at Samantha and me. If they wanted a show, they weren't going to get it. As angry, shocked, and confused as I was, I wasn't going to give Samantha the satisfaction of knowing she'd rattled me. At least, not as badly as she had.
I gave her a quick survey, up and down, and snorted. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and in fact, I'm starting to think you might be drunk. Because my boyfriend has never once mentioned your name, under any circumstances. You see, he usually doesn't associate with flaky, twenty-something blonde bimbos, on any level. Now, if you'll excuse me."
I started to walk away, but was caught by a hand on my elbow. It was Nate, along with his best friend, Mike. They'd both come up behind me.
Nate smiled at me, revealing his perfect white teeth. "Hi, gorgeous."
He seemed to not have heard any of Samantha's and my exchange. I gave him a little smile back, having to work hard to muster it. "Hi."
"I see you've already met my business associate, Samantha. Samantha, this is my girlfriend Justine."
Samantha smiled at him, literally batting her long black eyelashes. "Yes, we were just getting acquainted. And, Nate? Your 'business associate'? Aren't we a little more than that?"
Nate's lightly tanned skin suddenly turned a shade of dark pink. With my own face flushing with more than a bit of heat, I wondered just what in the hell Samantha was getting at. I wondered just who in the hell she thought she was. Nate began stammering, something. I'd never even once seen him do before. He was normally the very picture of confidence. Samantha cut him off with a wave of her hand, her expression amused.
"I'm teasing! I'm teasing, of course! I just meant that we're friends. Not just business associates, but friends, of course. And aren't we, Nate?"
He swallowed, the pink hue coloring his face lessening, although just slightly. "Sure. Yes, we're friends."
Samantha smiled, her glossy red mouth glinting in the light from sconces placed at intervals along the restaurant walls. "Good. Because any two people about to embark on a billion-dollar business venture together should at least be friends, shouldn't they?"
I was sure she must be delusional. Nate hadn't mentioned anything about bringing anyone else on board with his new internet company, which was his only current business venture in the works, not to mention that Samantha didn't seem like the type of person he'd ever do business with.
Without waiting for a response from him, Samantha continued. "Now, why don't we all grab a table and eat together? You and me, and Mike and his wife, and Justine. What do you say?"
I did not like how she'd said "you and me" and then my name last. As if she and Nate were a couple, and I was just some sort of hanger-on. I didn't like it at all. And from the borderline-glaring looks he was giving her, Mike didn't like it, either. Mike, his wife Amy, and I all got along well, and I was glad they were my friends. Especially since they were turning out to be the only two of Nate's friends who seemed to give me any respect and courtesy.
Still stammering a little, something I still couldn't even believe he was doing, Nate turned to me. "So...what do you think? Would you like to get some food, and we can join Samantha with-"
"I don't think so. I'm not feeling very well." I took a sip of my champagne, trying to ignore a glare from Samantha. "And in fact, I think I'd like to go home right now."
With his expression concerned and maybe even a bit alarmed, Nate said of course, told Mike and Samantha to have a nice evening, and then whisked me right out of the restaurant, one arm around my shoulders. Usually, he drove a glossy black Challenger, a powerful, youthful-looking muscle car that reminded me a lot of him. For evening events, we rode in a chauffeured limousine, as we had on this night. It pulled to the front of the restaurant immediately, not more than a few seconds after Nate and I stepped outside. Nate opened the back door and helped me in, something he liked to do for me rather than have the chauffeur do it.
Once the driver pulled into traffic, a tinted glass partition separating him from me and Nate, in the backseat, Nate took my hand and asked me what was wrong.
"Are you really feeling sick? Do you think you could be...."
He trailed off, and I realized what he was getting at. He was wondering if I could be pregnant.
We'd had a whirlwind romance that began in early April, about five months earlier. We took several extravagant trips together and had quickly fallen in love. Very deeply in love. But after only a couple of months, we broke up briefly, for just a few days, when Nate revealed he wasn't ready to settle down and try for a baby, like I was. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. However, fortunately, he'd soon realized that he was ready to try for a baby. He was ready, because it was what I wanted, and he wanted me to be happy. He wanted whatever I wanted, because he loved me so much. So we'd been trying for about two months, ever since we'd gotten back together. Although we hadn't been successful, and now heading into month three, I was beginning to doubt that it was going to happen as quickly as I'd hoped it would.
I looked at Nate, shaking my head. "No, definitely not pregnant. I wouldn't have even had that glass of champagne if I even remotely felt like it. Sorry if I made you think that I could be when I said I didn't feel well. That was actually kind of a white lie. I feel fine...physically. Emotionally, I was just more than a little upset in there, and I just wanted to go home. That Samantha Hadfield's a real piece of work." I suddenly remembered some of the things she'd said, pulled my hand out of Nate's, and folded my arms across my chest. "And, hey...you've got some explaining to do. What did she mean about the two of you embarking on a 'billion-dollar business venture' together? And what was she trying to get at by implying that the two of you are, or were, more than friends?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his dark blue eyes glinting in lights from the various restaurants and businesses lining the street. "I was going to tell you about the possible business partnership; please believe me about that. But Samantha and I only just discussed it over lunch today, and I haven’t had the chance between then and now."
"The two of you had lunch together?"
"Yes, but in the company of several other business acquaintances. It wasn't like it was just the two of us."
"All right. So what about the business venture?"
"Well, in short, to make a very complicated situation very, very short, Samantha has inherited a fledgling internet company from her late brother, who I used to be somewhat friends with. She doesn't know quite what to do with the company and wants to unload it. If we merged this company with my new start-up, we could probably get a billion dollars to split. Which is much, much more than either of us could get at this point for our companies individually."
"And you're actually considering this? You're actually considering doing business with that rude, slimy-acting girl?"
"Well...yes. With a half a billion dollars at stake, yes, absolutely. It's just business, Justine. I don't have to personally like a person in order to make money with them."
"Well, fine. I get that. But why does she seem to like you on a personal level so much, or whatever she was acting like, and why was she acting like she has some sort of history with you? Before you came up to us, she even said something incredibly rude, asking me if you'd ever said her name during our intimacy or something. What in the hell was she getting at?"
It didn't even cross my mind that Nate could be cheating; I trusted him way too much to even think that. I knew there was a story.
He winced, the expression of discomfort clearly visible even in the dim light. "I may as just get this over with and get this right out in the open."
"Get what right out in the open?"
He took a deep breath, his handsome face pale in white lights from the passing cars inching by us. "I slept with Samantha. Once. Maybe three years ago. It was at a party. I'd had way too much to drink. I barely remember it, and the next day, I regretted it. It was just a one-night fling to me. I had absolutely zero romantic interest in her then, same as now, of course. Samantha, for some reason, has always wanted us to become more. To the point that I've begun avoiding her socially for the past few years, just because she is so obnoxious and unpleasant about it, and because I'm very, very much not interested. But, now...now, I have to deal with her for just a little bit. Just for a few weeks or maybe a month or two, just until we can get these two companies merged and sold as one. Please, please try to understand. And please try not to be mad."
I hugged my arms to my chest a little tighter. "Well, I can't really be mad at you for something that happened three years ago, way before we ever met. You had a one-night-stand with her. Fine. Whatever. I guess what I'm a little hot about is that you're going to do business with a woman who was so insulting to me. Not to mention that you didn't even defend me. She actually asked me if I was your assistant, Nate. Knowing damn well that I wasn't. She just wanted to get under my skin."
"Exactly. Which is childish and immature and reflects her age. But you're better than her. You don't have to let her bother you. By the way, I wasn't even there when she asked if you were my assistant, which I agree was incredibly rude, and if she even dares say anything like that to you again, you better believe I'll correct her." He scooted a little closer to me on the seat, gently unfolded my arms from my chest, and took my hands. "So can we forget about all this? Can we try to enjoy the rest of our evening?"
He began rubbing firm slow circles on my palms with his thumbs, his touch making me slightly dizzy, in the most possible pleasant way, as it always did. I thought for a few moments, realizing that I was better than Samantha, and I didn't have to let her bother me. I trusted Nate, and I could tell just by what he'd said that he was thoroughly, completely over her, not that he'd ever even been into her in the first place, from what it sounded like. I honestly even felt the tiniest bit sorry for her. Just the fact that she was willing to act like an absolute ass because she still wasn't over someone she'd spent one night with years earlier. Thinking about her this way, she seemed kind of pathetic, and I realized she was probably pretty lonely. She recently lost her brother, too.
Finally, I nodded. "Okay. Forget Samantha. Let's enjoy the rest of our evening. Just please promise me you'll get the deal over with as quickly as humanly possible and then not talk to her anymore."
Nate squeezed my hands. "I promise. As long as you'll agree to let me take you somewhere special for dinner right now. As gorgeous as you look in that red dress, I want to show you off." He leaned in and brushed a kiss against my mouth. "Though, of course, I want to show you off all the time."
I gave him a little smile, unable to resist teasing him. "Oh, yeah? What about the days when I'm in yoga pants and a ratty old t-shirt when I'm cleaning my apartment? How about then?"
For months, he'd been offering to get me a maid, but I hadn't taken him up on that. I actually liked cleaning sometimes.
His deep blue eyes twinkled. "Especially then. That's when I want to tell the world: 'Look how gorgeous she is...even in plain old cleaning clothes.' That’s the truth. But that's not even when you look most gorgeous." He leaned in, gave me another kiss, and lowered his voice. "You look most gorgeous when you're wearing nothing at all. You're most gorgeous when I can see every inch of your bare skin."
It never ceased to amaze me how much he seemed to love my body. In fact, he often seemed as if he couldn't get enough of it. This, despite the fact that I was a curvier woman, and not all parts of my body were as tight as they'd once been. In recent years, I'd begun to notice that my breasts were definitely not as perky as they'd been in my twenties. Nate didn't seem to care at all. He loved me and he wanted me physically, a feeling that was definitely, unequivocally mutual.
I couldn't seem to go one day without us making love. Sometimes two or three times. Even though we'd been together for several months, I never, ever tired of his body. Not even close. Not that that was surprising; I knew the average woman would never tire of his body, either. He had the body I knew was the ideal, or close to it, for most of the female population. Lean but muscular and chiseled, it was something like a work of art. Nate was also tall; at six-foot-three, he towered over me, which I loved. His height and physical strength made me feel safe. I also found it a huge turn-on. As I did the fact that because he was twenty-six, he was often ready for lovemaking within seconds and had stamina to go for hours.
He soon told the limo driver to stop at a very exclusive Italian restaurant, and we had a lovely dinner together. We talked, laughed, gave each other silly compliments, and held hands across the candlelit table. I even forgot all about Samantha and her rudeness.
After dinner, Nate and I began kissing in the back of the limo, our hands roaming freely.
Presently, he spoke in a low voice near my ear. "How about when we get to my place, we get you out of that beautiful red dress so I can see every gorgeous inch of you. Then, we can do a little baby-making work. Which actually isn't so much work as it is complete and total...." He paused and planted a few kisses down the side of my throat to my collarbone. "Heaven."
Chapter8
A while later, Nate and I stood in the candle-lit bedroom of his spacious luxury penthouse, embracing, kissing, and touching, our hands roaming in a dance of exploration. I managed to remove all his clothes and fling them aside on our trip down the plush-carpeted hallway, but I was still wearing my red dress with the diamond-studded spaghetti straps.
He suddenly seemed to realize this and pulled away, his fingers grasping the zipper and pulling it down. "Now let me see the most beautiful sight in the world. Your body and your soft skin, illuminated by candlelight." He lifted my dress up and over my head, tossed it on one of the mahogany bedposts, and then feasted on me with his eyes, looking me over from head to toe. "Absolutely stunning."
A little shiver of excitement ran through me, as it always did whenever he looked at me nearly nude. When he next spoke, his voice was decidedly husky
"And now, to see your gorgeous breasts."
It never failed to surprise me that he thought my breasts were gorgeous. They were full and on the large side, and gravity had reduced their perkiness over the years. While Nate removed my bra and surveyed them, his breathing heavy, a person would have thought he was being treated to a glimpse of a swimsuit cover model's breasts.
He cupped them, and then began circling my stiffened nipples with his thumbs. "I just want to give you pleasure."
He certainly was, and I moaned my appreciation for the achy yet intensely pleasurable sensation caused by his slowly circling thumbs; a sensation that was traveling from my hardened nipples to a place low in my belly. When he applied a little saliva to his thumbs before resuming his caressing of my nipples, making his movements slightly faster over the now-slick surface, the pleasurable sensation intensified.
My head spinning with excitement a bit, I realized I desperately wanted him to touch me lower. Needed him to touch me lower. Or I needed to touch him. Or both. I wasn't even sure which, but his touch on my breasts was making me feel half-insane with desire, as it often did.
His quite sizable hardness was pressed into the soft curve of my belly, and I wrapped a hand around it, or tried to, anyway. It was so thick when fully erect, which seemed to be the only type of erect for Nate, that I couldn't even close my fingers around it. y fingers weren't short. I couldn't resist giving him a few quick strokes, my hand sliding up and down his rock-hard length, and the action made him suck in his breath and let it out in a hiss.
"Justine...my God. Your touch."
I stroked him some more, sighing with desire at the feel of his above-average length.
He shuddered, groaning, the movement of his thumbs on my nipples stopping.
"Oh, God, your touch."
With another groan, he tipped his head back, bucking his hips to work his shaft through my hand while I continued to stroke him. A combination of moonlight coming in through the screened bedroom window and golden candlelight illuminated the contours of his chiseled chest, making me want him even more than I already did. The pleasurable, vague ache low in my belly became a definite ache, and an urgent, increasingly desperate one. I shifted my feet, realizing that the feminine folds between my thighs had become incredibly wet. One thought in my mind began crowding out all others, and it was the thought of Nate touching my most private spots. Whether with his fingers or his tongue, I urgently needed him to touch me and give me some relief. The sensitive bud between my feminine folds wasn't even tingling anymore, as it had been earlier; now it was throbbing with need.
I moved my mouth near Nate's ear and spoke in a whisper. "Touch me. Please."
Seeming all too eager to, he immediately slipped a hand down the front of my black lace panties, began exploring my slick, swollen folds, and soon located my most sensitive, achy spot. With one fingertip, he began stroking me lightly, making me cry out. I stepped my feet apart, giving him greater access to my spot, but to my horror, he abruptly stopped in his movements.
I moved one of my hands to cover his, trying to encourage him. "No, don't stop."
He moved his mouth to my ear and spoke in a low growl. "But before we get too carried away with this activity, we should stop. Because now, it's time for me to worship you."
"What do you mean?"
He lowered his voice further still and spoke in a husky whisper. "I want to give your most sensitive spot all the slow, thorough, careful attention it deserves. I want to bend you over the bed, kneel behind you and bury my face in your most intimate parts." He paused, the rate of his already fast breathing increasing. "I want to make you squirm with pleasure while I stroke you with my tongue."
I exhaled in a fluttery rush, already squirming but with desperate excitement and frustration. What he'd described was something we'd never tried before, at least not with me in that position, and the thought of it, the thought of feeling his tongue on my feminine bud from behind made my knees literally weak.
I began pulling my panties down with my fingers trembling.
Nate helped me to remove them and then flung them aside. "Let's leave your heels on, though. That is...if you want to. Because you look...." He paused, looking my now completely naked body up and down. "So incredibly naughty and sexy and luscious in them. And in fact, you look so lusciously naughty in them I could just about...."
He didn't finish his thought, and instead, took a deep breath, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair.
I glanced down at my shiny red high heels. I hadn't even been fully aware I was wearing them. But now that he'd pointed it out, I realized that they did look kind of naughty. Very naughty, actually. And I felt naughty and sexy and wild in them.
I gave him a little smile, my pulse pounding. "All right. I'll leave them on, then. I do feel kind of...."
A not-unpleasant rush of heat washed over my face.
"Naughtier than usual in them."
He pulled me close, his breathing fast and raspy. "You have no idea how gorgeous and deliciously naughty you look. Also, they'll help tip your sexy bottom in the air at just the right angle for me to pleasure you with my tongue until you grind yourself all over my face when you climax, which is exactly what I want you to do. If that's what you feel like doing, that is."
It was. It was what I wanted to do, times a million. It was what I felt like I might want to do every night for the rest of my life. I couldn't wait any longer, not one second longer. The ache low in my belly was nearly unbearable, and my feminine bud was well beyond throbbing and aching; my frustration was so intense it was somewhat of a dull, gnawing pain. If Nate didn't pleasure me soon, I felt like I might scream. Or cry. His thick, granite-hard shaft was pressing against my hip, which wasn't helping matters any.
I whispered near his ear, my voice something like a whimper. "Please. Bend me over the bed and make me climax. Please pleasure me right now. I can't wait any longer."
Seeming to understand my urgent need, he walked me the few paces over to the bed, and then gently moved my feet to about shoulder length apart using one of his own feet. "My gorgeous, naughty, sexy Justine."
Next, he bent me over the bed, the action raising my bottom high in the air, before kneeling down behind me and positioning his face at my womanhood with a low growl. I clutched the blanket covering the bed, burying my face in its softness. The feel of Nate's warm breath tickling my most intimate parts made me whimper, and then again, louder, when he began planting kisses on those same areas, his mouth gentle but firm. Just when I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, he began exploring my feminine lips with his tongue, searching for my most sensitive spot.
When he found it and began gliding his tongue across it with long, slow strokes, I cried out, lifting my face off the bed.
For the next several minutes, I felt lost in an exquisite world of pleasure, the only thought in my mind the rapturous sensations I was experiencing. My voice came out in a near-continuous moan, drowning out soft little noises of enjoyment from Nate for the most part. I once again buried my face in the bed, arching my back and lifting my bottom in the air, reveling in a feeling of completely unbridled, wonton naughtiness.
But suddenly, I felt an urgent need to grind myself against Nate's face and flicking tongue, and I did so, panting. What I knew was going to be an incredibly powerful climax began building inside of me, rapidly. Nate grabbed my hips, kneading them, flicking his tongue across my throbbing bud even faster. Soon, he pulled me even closer to his face, seeming to be encouraging me to let go and climax with wild abandon. Within moments I did, bucking my hips and grinding myself against his mouth while wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me, each one more powerful than the last.
At least half a minute went by before I finally fell limp on the bed, sighing. Light perspiration covered my entire naked body, and a breeze blew through the open bedroom windows, cooling my warm skin. I took several deep breaths, completely satisfied.
Though, I realized, maybe not so completely satisfied that I couldn't appreciate the feel of Nate's hardness inside of me. He got to his feet behind me, and I looked over my shoulder at him.
"I want to feel you inside me now."
Needing no further invitation, he positioned the head of his manhood at my slick entrance and then slid in with one exquisitely slow thrust, groaning. I moaned at the sensation of his thick, stiffened shaft filling me completely. Gripping my bare rear, he began working his hardness in and out of me, pulling himself almost all the way out before plunging back into my depths once again. I reached a hand between my legs and began stroking my most sensitive spot, imagining the erotic picture our joining bodies made, with me bent over the bed in nothing but my red high heels, and Nate, young, muscular, and powerful thrusting into me from behind. It wasn't long before the image, combined with the sensation of being stroked and filled at the same time, sent me over the edge once again. I shuddered my orgasm, gasping Nate's name, while he grunted his own climax, his movements becoming harder and faster. When at last our mutual ecstasy was complete, he collapsed over me, whispering how much he loved me.
That night, after a long, hot shower, washing each other's bodies with loving care, we fell asleep wrapped in an embrace. I slept hard, like I usually did when sleeping next to Nate. He had a way of making me feel completely safe, protected, and relaxed, which made me want to sleep next to him for the rest of our lives.
Late the next morning, I awoke refreshed and happy. Unfortunately, my good mood didn't last long. While he was out in the kitchen making breakfast for us to eat in bed, I answered Nate's cell phone, which he'd told me I could do anytime. The moment after I said hello, a woman I recognized as Taylor, the girlfriend of Nate's friend Brent, began speaking.
"Oh, hi, MacKayla. I'm glad I got you and not that gold-digging granny Nate's dating. I can barely even talk to her. No clue what to say to someone so old. Anyway, I'm just calling to see if Nate wants to go to the gallery opening with Brent and me tomorrow. Even though I know that means he'll probably bring that woman, but whatever. So, is he around? Or is he in Friday staff meeting already?"
MacKayla, who for some strange reason Taylor thought I was, was one of several twenty-something-year-old interns working at Nate's new company.
A lump had formed in my throat while Taylor had been speaking, and I didn't know how to respond. So I just hung up.
I'd met Taylor several times and had always been nice to her. She had always been civil to me, if maybe just slightly cold. I couldn't believe the name she had called me. I had my own money from running my own soy candle company; I certainly wasn't with Nate because I wanted his money. I was no gold-digger. He had much, much more money than I had, yes, probably even thousands of times more, but I loved him for him. That wasn’t to say that there weren't some definite perks to dating a billionaire, but that's all they were. Just perks. Just bonuses. I would have loved Nate regardless.
As far as being a "granny," at thirty-seven, I was only eleven years older than him. I didn't consider that to be an absolutely outrageous age difference. Not to mention that I kept myself up well and knew I didn't look like anyone's grandmother that I'd ever met.
But still, Taylor's comments had hurt. Especially since this wasn't the first time I'd come to learn that some of Nate's friends thought I was only with him for his money, although this was the first time anyone had ever said it directly to me. Even if Taylor hadn't known she was doing so. That was another thing. I wondered if she had really thought I was MacKayla, or if she'd known it was me and was just intentionally trying to be hurtful. I knew I'd probably never know for sure. MacKayla's voice was kind of similar to mine, I had to admit. But at any rate, it didn't even matter. I now knew exactly what Taylor, and probably others of Nate's friends, thought about me. The damage was done.
When he entered the bedroom with a breakfast tray, I was sitting on the bed hugging my knees to my chest, my heart as heavy as a rock. He'd been smiling, but his expression immediately became one of concern and maybe even a little alarm.
He set the tray on a nightstand, slid in beside me, and put an arm around my shoulders. "Hey. Is everything okay? You look so sad."
I moved my shoulders in the slightest of shrugs. "Everything's fine, I guess. Except for the fact that most of your friends think I'm a gold-digger. Oh, and a granny."
Nate drew his dark brows even closer together than they already were. "What are you talking about?"
"Taylor called while you were making breakfast. She wanted to know if you wanted to go to some new gallery opening with her and Brent tomorrow."
"Well, why would that make you think-"
"She thought I was MacKayla for some reason, and she started talking about me, to me. She called me a 'gold-digging granny,' and 'old,' and 'that woman.' I guess she couldn't even stomach to say my name. I just hung up on her because I didn't know what to say. Which is surprising, because as many snide little comments as I've received from your friends the past several weeks, you think I'd be an expert at retorts by now. Oh, and from dealing with all your business associates, too. This, coming just on the heels of that witchy Samantha Hadfield asking if I was your assistant or a member of the restaurant staff just last night. You'd think I'd be a total pro at retorts by now. But, nope. I guess coming from a group of pretty polite and friendly people myself, I'm just not as practiced as I should be. So Taylor just put me at somewhat of a loss."
Nate sighed, his deep blue eyes seeming to reflect an expression of genuine pain. "I'm so sorry for what she said about you. That was incredibly, incredibly rude of her. Not to mention untrue. Obviously. I'll have a talk with her about being more respectful when speaking about the woman I love."
I snorted, suddenly angry, and pulled away from Nate and his encircling arm. "You'll have a talk with her? A talk? That's it? You're not going to cut her off completely and refuse to associate with her? Because that's what I'd do if someone insulted you in the way that she did me. Our friendship would be over. But maybe I'm just more loyal to you that you are to me."
He winced. "That's not true. That's not true at all. It's just that Brent, Taylor, and I go way back. Way, way back. We've been friends since we were seventeen, Justine. I can't just throw all that history away. And if I began shunning Taylor, I'm sure Brent would pull away from me, being that Taylor is his girlfriend. And Brent's friendship is very important to me, and I never want to lose it."
Fuming, I yanked the covers off my legs, got out of bed, and began stalking over to the master bathroom. "Well, I should hope you feel the same way about never losing me. If do, I'd start thinking long and hard about your friends. Because they all seem pretty intent on driving me away."
I went in the bathroom and shut the door, borderline slamming it, and soon heard Nate's voice on the other side.
"That's not fair to say that all my friends want to drive you away. Mike and Amy really like you a lot and have nothing but complimentary things to say about you. They both have said several times how great they think you are and how much they enjoy hanging out with you."
He did have a point. Mike and Amy had been wonderful to me.
"But they're only two people out of the hundred something of people in your friend group."
"But Mike's my very best friend, so they're the two friends who matter the most. That should count for something."
I suddenly didn't feel like talking about Nate's friends anymore. Because my morning had just gotten worse. When I used the toilet I discovered that I'd gotten my period. A day early, even.
I glanced at the bathroom door. "Let's talk about your friends later, please. I just feel kind of done discussing everything right now."
Nate said okay, that was fine. "Just know that we can work through this, and everything will be okay."
I hoped with all my heart he was right.
When I emerged from the bathroom a short while later, I found him sipping a cup of coffee in bed, looking a little dejected. Which, I was sure, was exactly how I looked.
I slid into bed beside him and took my own cup of coffee from the breakfast tray. "Well, not that I thought I was anyway, but now it's official. I didn't get pregnant this month. I just got my period. So...that was month two. With no success. I know that doesn't mean much, though. Going into this, I knew at my age, it might take us several months or even a year. I just didn't expect it to be this frustrating, I guess. But...maybe we'll have better luck next month. I guess we just have to keep trying and hoping. Because I'm certainly not getting any younger. As Taylor helpfully reminded me earlier."
Nate raked a hand through his thick, dark hair, looking away, as if suddenly afraid to look into my eyes for some reason. "Yeah. Um...." He paused and raked a hand through his hair again, still avoiding my eyes. "Before we go on trying for a baby any further, I think there's something I should probably tell you."
Chapter9
"What do you mean you have to tell me something before we continue trying for a baby?" I set my coffee cup down on the breakfast tray on Nate's lap. "What do you have to tell me?"
He sighed, took a sip of his coffee, and then also set his cup on the tray. "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you this sooner. I guess I was just hoping it didn't affect me; you'd somehow get pregnant right away; and everyone would be happy. But now...now, after two months...."
"What is it?"
He sighed again, avoiding my eyes. "Well, I...."
"You what? Nate, please look at me."
He finally did, seeming to do so reluctantly. A frown gave his handsome, square-jawed face an expression of discomfort and near-misery.
He took a deep breath. "Many men in my family have had difficulty getting their partners pregnant. It's some kind of low sperm count thing, and it might be inherited. I've never been tested, but...it's possible I have the problem, too."
I couldn't speak right away, suddenly sure that my dream of having a baby was never going to come true. With my age and now Nate's possible low sperm count, I knew things certainly weren't looking good. The lump that had risen in my throat when Taylor had insulted me earlier returned, and I tried to swallow it down.
"Oh."
Nate studied my face, wincing. "Please believe me when I say I'm so sorry. Sorry for not telling you sooner, and sorry about the possible problem itself. I'm really just so, so sorry about it all."
I nodded, blinking back tears. "It's okay. It's not your fault."
With his expression one of complete tenderness, he took my hands. "We can still keep trying. It just might take us a little longer than we thought, that's all. My cousin with this problem went on to have two kids, born one right after the other. He and his wife had been trying for six years. So, there's still hope. We'll just keep trying. We'll try even harder."
I nodded, wanting to believe he was right about there still being hope. But I wasn't entirely convinced.
"Okay."
He started saying something else, but just then, his phone began ringing, cutting him off.
With a low groan, he looked at the screen. "Taylor. Fabulous timing. I'll call her back later."
"No, it's fine. You can answer. I've got to get into work and show the new manager I just hired how to do payroll anyway." I glanced at a clock on one of the nightstands. "And actually, I need to leave right now."
It was ten-thirty, and I'd arranged to meet with the new manager of my uptown Manhattan candle store at eleven.
I flew out of bed and dressed hurriedly while Nate answered the call and began making small talk with Taylor. I was out the door a minute later, not even sticking around to hear what he was going to say to her about treating me with more respect. I figured I'd just ask him for details and her response later.
I made it to my store by eleven and spent the next hour-and-a-half going over payroll procedures with the new manager, somewhat in a daze. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around what Nate had told me. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around what this could mean for our future.
Once I was finished instructing the new manager, I met my best friend Tamara for lunch at a nearby cafe. The September day was unusually warm, and we took a table outdoors, in one corner of a patio surrounded by an ivy-covered fence, which separated us from traffic inching down the street in a smoggy ribbon. Tamara, who lived in my building, just a few doors down from me, had become pregnant a couple of months earlier via donor insemination. She was the same age as me and had dreamed about becoming a mother for many years, also like me.
She took a seat at the circular white cafe table, smoothing a hand over the tiny baby bump beneath her cream-colored linen top. "I might get dessert today. Eating for two, you know."
Once we ordered, she took a long drink of iced tea, studying me over the rim of the glass, and then set the glass down, frowning. "Is anything wrong? You look really sad or something."
I sighed. "You're the second person to say that to me today. Nate was the first."
"Well, what's going on? You want to talk about it?"
I realized that I did, desperately, and quickly filled her in about everything that was troubling me, from the majority of Nate's friends not seeming to accept me, to him doing a business deal with Samantha Hadfield, who'd asked if I was his assistant, to Nate revealing that we might have difficulty conceiving. On top of the difficulty of me conceiving at thirty-seven.
About the time I'd finished telling Tamara everything, the waitress came with our food. Even though I hadn't had breakfast, because of Taylor calling Nate's phone, and then Nate's revelation about his possible low sperm count, I found I just wasn't that hungry. But I picked up a fork and began picking at my grilled chicken salad anyway.
"I guess I just feel like my relationship with Nate is just getting so difficult. Especially compared to our first few months, which were just pure fun. Now I have to deal with increased complication in our struggle to get pregnant, along with his insensitive and rude friends, and a rude business associate he's actually going to do a business deal with. Despite the fact that they had a one-night stand a few years ago and she has apparently never gotten over him."
Tamara snorted, her expression one of disgust. "He's seriously going to do a business deal with her? Even considering that?"
"I guess so. The deal is some sort of merging and selling of their companies, and they'll get no less than a billion dollars to split."
"But Nate's already a billionaire several times over. What does he care about another half-billion?"
I set my fork down, unable to eat a bite. "I don't know. He's just really ambitious and takes pride in his business savvy. I think it's more about that than anything. He just wants the feeling of achievement, I think. The feeling of starting yet another internet venture and then selling it for an astronomical sum."
Tamara swallowed a bite of a chicken club sandwich, set it down, and took a sip of iced tea. "Even if that means hurting you by doing business with some twenty-something-year-old blonde he slept with in the past, though?"
I sighed, my gaze on the sun-dappled surface of the shiny white cafe table. "I guess so. I guess I'm discovering that maybe my happiness isn't his number one consideration all the time. Like with his rude friends. After the phone call with Taylor this morning, I asked him if he'd cut her off for being so rude to me, and he said no. He said that would push her boyfriend Brent away, and since he and Brent apparently go way, way back, he's not willing to let that happen. So that's that, I guess. He said something about having a talk with Taylor about being more respectful to me, but...whatever. Maybe she will be to my face, and that's a big maybe, but the fact remains that she still thinks some very bad things about me, that I'm a gold-digger and what not, and I guess Nate is fine with this. I guess he's fine with being friends with someone who thinks I'm a 'granny,' too. And of course, this friction is just the least of our problems. With my age, and now his possible low sperm count, I may never be able to get pregnant. My dream might be officially over." I took a sip of my sparkling water with lemon, then set the glass back down with a sigh. "I don't know. Everything has just gotten so complicated and negative lately. I knew when I fell in love with Nate that his friends were going to be a lot younger than me; I just didn't think it was going to be that big of a problem."
"It sounds like you underestimated the immaturity of twenty-somethings. Which sounds like exactly what this is. By having a problem with your age and being rude about it, they're just displaying how immature they are."
"Maybe, but what about calling me a gold-digger? With all Nate's money, something just tells me I'd be accused of that no matter how old his friends were. Which is something I guess I wasn't really prepared for. All this just feels so terrible. The thought of having to attend even one more single social event with his friends...I could just run screaming. The same with all of our fertility issues. All the stress and now our possible added problem...I love Nate with all my heart, but I could just run screaming from all the anxiety lately."
Tamara frowned, looking at something, or someone, over my shoulder, at the patio entrance. "Well, speaking of running, and I'm not saying that's what you're going to want to do, but maybe; but anyway...do not turn around now and I mean it."
"What? Why?"
"Just act normal."
"I'm trying to. But, why?"
"How did things end between you and Donovan Blair? I can't remember if things were okay or bad. Remember that guy? Tall...sandy blond hair? It was maybe like...ten or eleven years ago, probably."
I definitely, definitely remembered Donovan Blair. I'd actually been in love with him once. Things hadn't ended badly at all; they'd just kind of fizzled out when he moved all the way across the country to Los Angeles for work. Then he’d gotten married; and I'd eventually gotten married to a man who turned out to be a jerk, and I'd eventually divorced him. It had probably been eight or nine years since I'd spoken to Donovan, and since we didn't have any mutual friends anymore, I really had no idea what he'd been up to, or what his life was currently like. I'd always thought of him fondly, and I wasn't really opposed to saying hello and catching up with him, and I told Tamara this. But maybe just if he approached me first. I didn't want to say hi and have him not recognize or remember me.
I fought the urge to look over my shoulder and kept my gaze locked on Tamara. "Is he still pretty good-looking?"
She didn't answer right away. "Mm...pretty good-looking, yeah. Maybe he's lost a small amount of hair. Maybe he's gained a couple of pounds around the midsection, too. He looks strong and fit enough, though. Let’s just say he's no Nate. But then again, Nate's what...twenty-six? Donovan's gotta be about forty by now. And for forty...yeah, I guess he's good-looking. Oh, and keep your eyes on me, because it looks like the waitress is leading him over to our section to sit. Looks like it's just him." She picked up her sandwich again. "Here, let's eat and be normal. Let's see if he approaches you first."
That was my plan exactly.
I picked up my fork, speared a lettuce leaf and a bite of grilled chicken from my salad, and began eating. Not even a moment later, the waitress led Donovan right by Tamara's and my table and seated him only one ahead in the row adjacent to ours. I took a quick peek at him and discovered that Tamara's observations had been pretty spot-on. He was definitely no Nate in the looks and fitness department, but he still looked nice enough. He was still fairly attractive, I supposed. Especially for forty.
I took a sip of sparkling water, trying to keep my gaze on Tamara, and trying to act normal. "So did you order that deluxe stroller you were thinking about buying?"
"Justine Marlowe?"
It had taken Donovan all of about three seconds to spot me.
"I can't believe this; it is you. My word, you look great."
I looked over at him and found him smiling. I smiled back, a few butterflies suddenly fluttering around in my stomach. I'd forgotten how much I liked his emerald-green eyes.
"Donovan Blair. Well, hi. It's wonderful to see you. You look great yourself."
His smile got even bigger. "Thank you. I don't want to interrupt, but would you and your friend care to join me for lunch? I'd love to treat you both."
Tamara smiled at him, setting the last tiny bite of her sandwich down. "Thank you for the offer, and Justine might take you up on it, but I have to be getting back to work now. Was actually supposed to be back ten minutes ago."
I wasn't too sure this was actually true. She worked from home as a freelance graphic designer, and she'd told me earlier that she was actually taking the whole day off.
Donovan suddenly seemed to recognize her as the same best friend I'd had when he and I had dated, and they exchanged a few brief pleasantries and recollections before she left some money on the table for her meal and took off, telling us to enjoy our lunch.
Donovan got up from his table, went over to where she'd been sitting across from me, and paused, smiling at me. "May I?"
––––––––
I smiled back. "Of course. Please join me."
For the next minute or two, we marveled at the chances of running into each other in a city as big as New York, and Donovan explained that he'd recently moved back to Manhattan from California after accepting a job at a new accounting firm. He'd been an accountant back when we'd dated, too.
"I guess I just missed the city and felt like it was time to come home. And fortunately, accountants are needed everywhere. So, how about you? What line of work are you in these days?"
I told him briefly about owning my candle company, and then the waitress came to take his order. While he held a menu, scanning it, I noticed that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Just out of curiosity, I wondered if he was still married and what would be a tactful way to ask, but once the waitress had left, he beat me to the punch and gestured to my wedding ring finger, which was of course, ringless.
"I see you're not wearing a ring. And I don't mean to get too personal, but are you single now?"
He'd always had a direct bluntness about him, but not a bluntness that was ever rude, from what I remembered. He had just always been a very pragmatic, let's-get-right-down-to-business type of guy. Probably like a typical accountant, I supposed.
"Well, my marriage ended in divorce, unfortunately, but I now have a boyfriend I'm really happy with."
I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment cross Donovan's features, but I couldn't be sure.
"And that's not to say we haven't had our little struggles and things lately, just minor stuff, but...we're pretty happy."
I realized right away that I'd probably said too much and wasn't even sure why I had.
I gave my throat a little clear. "But, anyway...how about yourself?"
Donovan did his own little throat clear. "Well, I've been single for about four years now, ever since my wife died. She and our little boy were killed in a car accident."
I bit back a little gasp. "I'm so very sorry to hear that I could hardly even comprehend enduring a tragedy like that.
"I'm so very sorry."
He nodded once, his expression pained. "Thank you. It was an incredibly sad time in my life, of course, but about a year ago, I finally started to feel ready to move past the sadness and find happiness once again. I just haven't yet been able to find the right woman to create a new, happy life with."
While I tried to think of something encouraging to say, neither of us spoke for a long moment. Before I could respond, Donovan cleared his throat again.
"But, anyway. I want to hear more about your candle company. You said you have an online retail space as well as a brick-and-mortar store uptown?"
We spent the next half-hour eating, catching up, and sharing some laughs. I'd forgotten that he could be pretty funny at times. I'd also forgotten that he was just kind of fun to hang out with. He did have those jewel-green eyes I'd always liked. I realized that maybe, on some level, I'd always carried a torch for him. And maybe not a big, huge one, but a torch nonetheless. He was just a really nice, easygoing, not-bad-looking guy, and the several months that we'd dated had been pleasant.
When the waitress brought the bill, Donovan paid it, and then we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, just so we could stay in touch, maybe having a brief catch-up every couple of years or so, I thought. Even though I was with Nate, I couldn't see the harm in it, especially since he himself apparently saw no harm in not only keeping in touch with a woman he'd had a one-night stand with, but actually doing business with her. When that woman was even incredibly rude to me.
Before we left the restaurant, Donovan gave me a quick little peck on the cheek. "It was wonderful to see you, Justine. Your boyfriend is a very lucky man."
I went back to my candle store, thinking that that had been a nice run-in, and resumed training my new manager. But several hours later, I couldn't figure out why I couldn't stop thinking about Donovan's deep green eyes. Or the fact that he was much closer to my age than Nate and probably had kind, mature friends. Or the fact that since he'd already fathered a child, that probably meant that he didn't have any fertility issues.
Around five o'clock, I sat in my office at the back of the store, holding the slip of paper with Donovan’s phone number and email address on it in one hand while drumming my fingers on my desk with the other.
Chapter10
I sat drumming my fingers on my desk while glancing periodically at the slip of paper Donovan used to write down his phone number and email address Eventually, after a few minutes, I stuffed the slip of paper in my purse and headed for home. I wasn't going to call Donovan; I wasn't going to email him. I knew it wouldn't be appropriate. I was with Nate, and I loved him with all my heart. Even despite the recent struggles we'd been having. He was my everything, and I wanted to have his baby. I wanted to have a family and a future with him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
When I got home, I called him up first thing, deciding that maybe what we needed was a nice, romantic dinner at home to reconnect, forget all our troubles, and start the weekend off right. I'd have him over to my apartment and whip up some homemade lasagna, one of his favorite meals. Maybe we'd share a bottle of wine and watch a movie. That is, if we could keep our hands off each other long enough to watch a full movie. It rarely happened. Not that I minded one bit.
But before I could share my ideas for our evening, Nate informed me that he had to have dinner with Samantha Hadfield and a few other business associates who would be in on the billion-dollar merger and sale deal.
"And of course, you're more than welcome to join us, but I'm just assuming you won't want to, because...." He cleared his throat. "Because of...well, I know you and Samantha didn't exactly hit it off."
I snorted, incredulous. " 'Didn't hit it off?' Nate, she was incredibly rude to me. She asked if I was your assistant, when she probably knew full well that I'm your girlfriend."
"I know. I know she was rude. I shouldn't have phrased that the way I did. So...do you want to come along? I promise I'll correct her if she gets rude with you again."
I sighed, sinking into a chocolate brown overstuffed chair in my living room. "No. No, it's fine. I was thinking of a romantic dinner in at my place, just the two of us, but now I guess I'll just see what Tamara's up to. Maybe we'll watch a movie."
"Okay, but I'm definitely taking a rain check on a romantic dinner together just the two of us. Maybe tomorrow night?"
I said okay, and then we said I love you to each other and hung up.
I sat for a long while, just thinking. Mostly about the business deal happening between Nate and Samantha. I thought about what I'd do if I were Nate, if I had the chance to make half a billion dollars, but in order to do so, had to make a deal with a woman who acted like a devil to my very serious girlfriend. I wasn't sure what I'd do. Obviously, half a billion dollars was no small sum. I knew the deal would also give Nate the sense of achievement he continually craved. So, I understood his reasoning well enough, I supposed. That didn’t make me feel any better about things. I couldn't help but feel a little bit like Nate was somehow disrespecting me, although in a roundabout sort of way, by still doing business with Samantha, even though she'd insulted me. I couldn't help but feel like I wished he would have defended me a bit more when I'd told him what she'd said. Or even defended me at all. For example, he could have called her up right then and let her know that the deal was off because I was the most important person in his life and he didn't tolerate anyone disrespecting me. At the very least, he could have called her up right then and given her a warning: one more insult to my girlfriend, actual or even perceived, and the deal is off. He could have. But it was almost starting to seem as if he'd made a conscious choice not to. It was almost starting to seem as if money, or his ambition, or his success was more important than defending me and ensuring that I received respect.
This didn't sit well with me. How could it?
While I lounged in the big overstuffed chair in my living room, I also thought a bit more about Donovan. I recalled how once at a party we'd had at his apartment, one of his friends had gotten drunk and asked me to perform a certain sex act on him, and he'd asked for it in the most vulgar possible way. He'd also addressed me as "baby" at the end of his request. The words were barely even out of his mouth when Donovan pushed him up against a wall and told him in a deadly quiet, commanding voice that I was a lady, and he would not tolerate me being spoken to in that way. Then, holding his friend's shirt collar in his fist, he'd made him apologize to me. Next, he'd kicked him out of the apartment, telling him they weren't friends anymore and never would be again, and slammed the door. Everyone at the party cheered, and a few of the girls present cast admiring gazes in Donovan's direction. I'd more than appreciated how he'd defended me. I still appreciated it, and the memory, despite the drama of that night, was somehow comforting to recall. I wondered what Nate would have done in Donovan's shoes and eventually reasoned that the answer to that would probably depend on whether or not he was entering into any kind of business partnership with the drunken friend.
I was beginning to feel somehow unsettled in my mind.
I got the slip of paper containing Donovan's number and email address from my purse and sat back down, staring at it. I didn't even know what I was intending to do. Running into an ex at a cafe was one thing, but I knew calling him up that same day would be bordering on inappropriate and unethical, since I was with Nate, of course. I knew that scheduling a planned dinner with Donovan, or anything like that, wouldn't just be bordering on inappropriate and unethical; it would be well over the line. So I certainly didn't intend to do that. Cheating and sneaking around wasn't my style; those things definitely went against my moral code.
Still, I sat staring at the scrap of paper. Thinking about how Donovan had defended me all those years ago. Thinking about how we were close in age, much closer than Nate and I were. Thinking about how Donovan's friends were probably mature and kind. Thinking about how my chances of having a baby would most likely be greater with him than with Nate.
Suddenly I stood up, crumpling the scrap of paper and tossing it on the floor. Nate was the man I loved, no matter what. Nate was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Not Donovan. Even though we were experiencing troubles, I wasn't about to throw away all the love and happiness I had with Nate. He meant too much to me.
I took a long, hot shower, got into pajamas, and then called up Tamara to see if she might be interested in a low-key girl's night in. "I'm thinking maybe a pizza and a movie? Maybe that romantic comedy set in Italy that we wanted to see. How does that sound?"
She said she was sorry but she had a dinner date planned with some of the other women in her expectant moms group. "I told you about this earlier today, remember?"
I honestly didn't. My brain must have been going in to many different directions with Nate and Donovan.
"But you're more than welcome to join us if you want, though. The group isn't just for women who are already pregnant; it's for women who are trying to get pregnant, too. I know everyone would be so happy to meet the best friend who's been so supportive to me through these first couple months of my pregnancy. I talk about you all the time, you know."
For the second time that day, I was being invited to a dinner I had no desire to attend. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Tamara's offer; I did. I knew that if she said I'd be welcome at the group dinner, I would be. I just couldn't be surrounded by numerous expectant moms at this point in my life. Just couldn't be. Not when the thing they had was the thing I wanted so badly. Not when I wasn't sure if my own dream of having a baby would ever come true.
I declined Tamara's invitation with thanks and told her to have a good time. She asked if I was sure, and I said yes, definitely, and she finally said okay. We started to hang up, but then she told me to wait.
"I just realized you haven't even told me how it went with Donovan at lunch today. Was it good to reconnect? I don't mean that in a romantic way; I just mean was it good to say hey and reconnect with him on a platonic level. Oh, by the way, I hope you were okay with me leaving you two alone today; I wasn't positive that's what you wanted, but you seemed up for chatting with him, and I just didn't want to get in the way. So, anyway, how did it go?"
I gave her a quick recap, up to the point where we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. “Not like we're going to be emailing or calling all the time, and maybe not even ever at all. I just thought it might be nice to say hello every couple of years or something, just to check in on a purely platonic level. Because I know that any more frequently that that wouldn't really be appropriate since I'm with Nate, and you know I'm a very faithful, by-the-book type lady. I'm sure Donovan will have a significant other soon enough, too. I don't know...I can see myself wanting to find out how life is treating him in a few years. After hearing about how he lost his wife and son, I really hope he meets someone very special and can be happy again. It would make me really happy to hear that."
Tamara said that was understandable, and we soon hung up. I realized I hadn't told her absolutely every single thing about my lunch with Donovan, specifically, that I hadn't really been able to stop thinking about him since. But I figured that was fine. Because what would the point have been? I wasn't going to call him or attempt any further contact, at least not for several years, so there would have been none. No point in telling her anything. I was sure my strange desire to call Donovan would lessen soon enough. Nate and I would work through our differences, and everything would be fine.
With those thoughts in mind, I ordered a pizza, poured some wine, and put a movie on, intent on an evening of relaxation and forgetting about my troubles for a while. About halfway through the movie, after two slices of pizza and two glasses of wine, I managed to do just that. The plot of the movie was interesting and the characters absorbing, and I became immersed in a different world, my own cares seeming to fall away. I actually hadn't felt so mellow in a while.
But this vibe of calm and serenity didn't last long. When the movie had maybe twenty minutes left to go, I was yanked back to reality by a call from Tamara. I answered immediately, thinking it was strange that she'd be calling while out to dinner with her expectant moms group.
"Everything okay, Tam?"
She didn't respond right away. "Yeah. I mean...everything's okay with me. But...well, I'm at this restaurant, and...."
"And what?"
"Well, Nate's here with a group of people a few tables over, and...." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's this young, twenty-something-looking blonde girl just hanging all over him. Like, rubbing his shoulders, and resting her hand on his knee, kind of like caressing it, and...just stuff like that. And it doesn't look like he's really encouraging it or reciprocating or anything, but...it doesn't look as if he's exactly trying to fight her off, either."
I threw a blanket off my lap and stood up from the couch with my heartbeat hammering in my ears. "Samantha."
"I'm really sorry. I debated whether or not to even call you about this, but I figured you'd probably want to know."
"No, you totally did the right thing. I'm glad you called. I've gotta go now. I've gotta call Nate. Talk to you later, Tam, and thanks."
I hung up with her and dialed Nate's number with trembling fingers. It went to voice mail after several rings, and I began speaking the second the message tone beeped.
"Look. I know you're having dinner, but you need to get out to the lobby or go outside or something and call me back right away. Tamara and some friends are having dinner at the same restaurant as you are, and she just called me. Said that Samantha Hadfield is hanging all over you and you're not doing anything to stop it. So call me back. I don't mean to sound rude or demanding about this, but I have to say, I'm a little steamed. So get that little witch's paws off you and call me back. Bye."
Not even a minute after I ended the call, my phone sounded with a text alert. It was Tamara, saying that it appeared that Nate went to the restroom, leaving his phone on the table, and Samantha grabbed it and was heading outside the restaurant. I curled my hand around my phone hard enough to crack the screen. Within seconds, it rang. The incoming call was from Nate's phone.
I answered with my voice shaking with anger. "Listen, you trashy, pathetic little-"
"Oh, I'm sorry, who's this? Is this Mr. Miller's assistant?"
"You know damn well-"
"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe you prefer to be called 'the help.' Well, at any rate, that was quite a voicemail to leave for your employer. I thought an older woman like you would have way better manners. Especially when speaking to the man you're gold-digging, which everyone knows is the truth, and everyone-"
"Listen to me, you no-class tramp. You find Nate and you give him back his phone this second. Then-"
"Well, I will, because I think he'll be coming back from the bathroom soon. I just wanted to give you a quick call to let you know that I'll not only be coming out of this merger deal a half-billion dollars richer, thanks to Nate, but I'll probably end up with him on my arm, too. Because, see, I've never quite gotten over the night he and I spent together, and I want him back, this time for good. I think he's starting to feel the same way. So, just wanted to give you a head's up, granny. Couldn't resist. Now, have a nice night! Bye!"
She ended the call, and I threw my phone on the sofa, my breathing coming in ragged gasps. I paced around the living room, fists balled, taking gulps from my third glass of wine. I had no idea what I was going to do. I had no idea what I should do. And before I could figure it out, my phone rang again, and I snatched it up, saw that it was Nate, and answered. "You have some serious, serious explaining to do."
He actually asked what was wrong, sounding not nearly as ruffled as I thought he should be. Not livid at Samantha like I thought he should be.
After I'd spent several moments spent sputtering in response to his question, absolutely speechless, he continued, still sounding fairly calm.
"I just got back from the restroom and Samantha said you called. So I came outside here, and checked my messages, and called you back right away. And, look...I can understand why Tamara telling you that Samantha's been hanging all over me or whatever might upset you. But it's not-"
"Oh, you think that's the only reason I'm so mad? Well, listen to this." I went on to recount every single thing she'd said to me on the phone. "Now, how do you think I should feel about all this? Should I feel not upset? Should I just put up with all this so you can make your deal and make another boatload of money? Is that it?"
Nate sighed but didn't respond, confirming my worst suspicions.
I'd been pacing around the living room, but I stopped dead in my tracks. "So that's how it is? I should just be okay with all this? Well, let me tell you, Nate, I am not. I am one hundred and a thousand percent not."
I realized immediately that didn't really make much sense, but I didn't care.
Nate sighed again. "Look. Samantha is a bitter, spiteful, immature idiot of a person. We both know that. Everyone knows that. I have zero interest in her on a physical level, on a friendship level, on a human level, on any level. Zero. I was laughing at her in my head when she kept grabbing on my shoulder, thinking what an absolute ass she was making of herself. She's a pathetic, immature, miserable human being; we both know that. But she's also a miserable human being who has inherited a company that when merged with my new start-up and sold, will bring in a half a billion dollars for you and me. A half a billion dollars, Justine. For us. For our future. And, yes, we'd already be pretty well-off anyway; I get that. But why not add some more to what we already have? Why can't we just deal with Samantha's antics for just a week or two longer while I work out the details of this deal?"
"Because it's hurting me."
The steadiness and calm in my voice surprised even me. I'd made a decision. With it came a sense of resignation, suddenly draining me of all anger.
"Because it's hurting me that you won't defend me, Nate. It's hurting me that you're acting as if making money is more important that defending me from disrespect. It's hurting me that you're acting as if your personal achievement is more important than my feelings. Because of this, because I'm hurting, and because you seem unwilling to lose your deal in order to defend me, I'm asking for a break. Not a breakup, but a break. I don't want to have any further communication with you until this deal is complete. I mean this. I need time to think and process all this. I need time to consider if this is the kind of relationship I'm willing to remain in. So please don't call me or try to make contact with me in any way until everything with the deal is finished and Samantha is out of our lives, because this is upsetting me. I won't answer the phone, and I won't see you. I've decided to protect myself, because you won't. So, goodbye, Nate, for a little while, anyway, and then we'll talk. I still love you, but...."
My voice has started wavering just slightly, and I took a deep breath.
"Bye."
I ended the call and stared at the screen for a few moments, blinking back tears. Then I picked up the crumpled slip of paper with Donovan's number on it, un-crumpled it, and dialed.
Chapter11
I ended the call before Donovan's phone even rang once. I didn't know what on earth I'd been thinking. I figured maybe the act had been some sort of passive aggressive reaction stemming from a subconscious desire to get even with Nate for how badly he'd hurt me or something. That so wasn't my style. I'd never been the type to feel compelled to settle scores of any kind. I was more the type to say or do whatever was in my heart and then move on. Or, at least say what was in my heart and then ask for a break to think, as I'd done with Nate.
––––––––
Despite all my distracted thinking about Donovan that day, I knew in my heart of hearts I could never love any other man as much as I loved Nate, even though his actions were hurting me.
Suddenly feeling profoundly drained, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and got into bed. Nate called several times, but I didn't answer. Instead, I hugged a pillow against my aching chest, sniffling. I didn't want to discuss Samantha and the deal anymore. I didn't want to have to beg Nate to defend me. I truly just wanted him to leave me alone for a while, until the deal was complete. Then we could talk. About what, or what I would tell him or ask him to do, if anything, I wasn't sure yet. Which was why I needed time. Time to figure out of our relationship could be salvaged. Time to figure out if it was possible that Nate could learn to be more sensitive to what I needed from him. If he would maybe agree to at least make an attempt to defend me better in the future, after this deal. Although the thought of that didn't make me feel encouraged, and I knew that probably wouldn't satisfy me. I wanted him to defend me right now, against Samantha. And against Taylor, who had been so rude to me on the phone. Against all his friends who'd said disparaging things about me, to me, and behind my back.
Eventually, even with my thoughts still unsettled, I fell asleep, tears trickling across the bridge of my nose.
The next morning, Nate began calling around ten, but I still didn't answer. I stood at my living room windows with a cup of coffee, looking out into bright September sunshine, puffy white clouds floating above the adjacent skyscrapers, and traffic on the busy street below. I wasn't really seeing any of it.
At ten-thirty, I checked my voice mails, just to see what he'd been saying in the numerous messages he'd left. They were all basically the same, just begging to talk and assuring me that things could be worked out. At eleven or so, he knocked on my apartment door, numerous times, but I didn't answer, and eventually he went away.
Shortly after, Tamara came over to see how I was doing, and we talked for a while. Then she left for a prenatal yoga class after I'd assured her that I really was okay, which was the truth; I was. I was holding up, anyway. It honestly wasn't even that hard since I was feeling pretty empty and numb, somehow.
After forcing myself to eat some lunch, I got back into bed, shut off my phone, and took a nap. It was only hours later, long after I'd woken up, that I thought to turn it back on. There were more messages from Nate, saying pretty much the same things he'd said earlier. He wanted to talk. He was sorry I was upset. He was sure we could work through this. I didn't even listen to them all. I just wished he'd stop calling and give me some peace. Late in the afternoon, he finally did.
I tried to do some work in my home office, mostly tasks related to an upcoming promotional campaign for my candle company. After an hour or two, I realized I wasn't focusing very well and really wasn't making much progress. I knew spending any more time trying when my heart really wasn't in it would just be pointless. I went out to the kitchen, intending to make a sandwich for dinner, then maybe take a bath and go to bed.
I'd just put two slices of bread on a plate when my phone rang again, for probably the twentieth time that day. This time, it wasn't Nate. I studied the number, realizing after a few seconds that it was Donovan calling. Stunned, I wasn't quite sure what to do. Then for some reason, a mental picture of Samantha hanging all over Nate flashed in my mind while the cruel words she'd said to me the night before seemed to echo in my ears.
Before fully realizing what I was doing, I answered the call, probably a split second before it would have gone to voice mail. Donovan said hello, sounding just as surprised that I'd answered as I was myself.
"Is this an okay time to chat for a second, Justine? Were you in the middle of anything?"
I shook my head, so flustered that it didn't even dawn on me right away that he couldn't see me doing so. After a long moment, he repeated his first question, asking if this was an okay time. I finally found my voice and answered verbally this time.
"No. I mean...yes. Yes, this is an okay time. Sorry, I'm just a little...."
I gave my head a little shake, not exactly sure what I was doing. Other than thoroughly rattled, I was also strangely excited to hear his voice. Maybe that wasn't even the right word. Comforted, maybe, to hear his voice. Also maybe a tad exhilarated, for some extremely odd reason.
I took a deep breath. "Sorry, Donovan. Yes, this is an okay time to chat. How are you?"
My question was met with silence, several long seconds of silence, actually, and I'd just opened my mouth to repeat it when he finally spoke.
"Can I just say a few things to you? Will you hear me out for just a minute or two? You don't even have to respond to what I say. If you want to just hang up without saying anything back to me after, that's completely fine. I just have some things that I really want to tell you. So...may I?"
My voice came out in a near-whisper. "Yes. Okay."
"Thank you."
He cleared his throat and then paused so long I wondered if he was still going to continue. But he finally did.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Not just since yesterday, but at different times over the past decade and some-odd years. And maybe not so much during the years I was married to my wife; I loved her and I was committed to her, but during the years before we were married and the years since she died...I've thought about you a lot at different times. I guess you've always been somewhere in the back of my heart. Maybe I've always carried some sort of torch for you, you could say. Then after I saw you yesterday...that torch was re-lit in a pretty major way for me. You've only become even more beautiful to me after all these years, and I remembered how much I absolutely loved spending time with you, just being in your presence. I know you said you have a boyfriend, and I'm definitely not trying to interfere in your relationship or cause problems on any level if you truly love this man. But you mentioned that all is not perfect. You mentioned that there have been some struggles lately."
He paused, and I leaned over the kitchen counter, my knees strangely weak and rubbery. I realized I'd been hanging on his every word.
"Anyway, I gathered that you're going through some things in your relationship lately, though I can only guess how serious these things are. So I guess I just wanted to say...." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I want you to be happy. I want you to be with whoever brings you joy. If that's this man, I hope everything works out perfectly for the two of you. But if things ever don't work out, and you find yourself single...Justine, I would make you so happy. I know that because I'd never stop trying. I'd want us to be married and have a child together. I'd want us to be a family. I'd want to spend the rest of my days bringing you joy."
He paused again, and I realized that my eyes had become a little misty for some reason. I blinked the moisture back, eager to hear what he had to say next. When he resumed speaking, his voice was low and pleading.
"If you ever find yourself single again...just promise me you'll think about what I've said. Just promise you'll consider giving me a call."
My voice came out in somewhat of a squeak.
"Okay." I cleared my throat and spoke up a little. "Okay. I promise."
"Good. That's all I ask. Thank you. You've actually made me the happiest man in the world right now, just by saying that. Now, I won't keep you any longer. Just remember me, and your promise...if you ever find yourself single. Thank you again, Justine, and goodbye."
"Goodbye, Donovan."
I ended the call and pocketed my phone with my mind spinning. With my mind absolutely reeling.
Even though I knew I could never love another man like I loved Nate, I couldn't deny that Donovan's offer of marriage and a child together was unexpectedly tempting on so many different levels. For one thing, as had crossed my mind before, he was closer in age to me than Nate was, and I assumed his friends weren't mostly immature jerks. For another thing, if any of his friends or associates ever did behave like jerks to me, I knew he'd defend me to them. Because unlike Nate, he didn't seem to have a problem defending me. He'd defended me in the past, as I had fondly recalled. Maybe I wouldn't have the highest highs of love with him like I did with Nate, but maybe there wouldn't be lows like I was currently experiencing with Nate, either. I knew I could at least be fairly happy with him. I wondered if that might be good enough.
Yet another thing that tempted me about Donovan's offer was that I knew conceiving a child with him would most likely be easier than it would be with Nate. With Donovan, it might at least be possible for me to have a baby before my clock ran out, so to speak, and with Nate, it might never be possible. I knew myself well enough to know that motherhood was crucially important to me and was only becoming more so the older I got.
Even still, with all these things making Donovan's offer seem very enticing, I couldn't ignore one fact that kept coming into my mind over and over and over: I could never, ever love another man the way I did Nate. I knew in my heart of hearts that he was my true soul mate and the love of my life. Even with all our recent troubles, I couldn't shake that feeling and didn't know if I'd ever be able to. I didn’t know if I could go through life knowing that I'd let him go just for someone with more mature friends, a proven track record of standing up for me, and the ability to give me the baby I so desperately wanted.
I felt like my heart was being torn in two.
Several days went by. Other than Tamara, I hardly spoke to anyone. I went into work at my store, did what needed to be done, spoke to my employees about necessary things, and left. Nate finally stopped calling completely. A few more days went by.
Late September turned into early October. The colors of Central Park began changing from green and gold to gold and orange. I kept thinking that eventually I'd get some bolt of insight that would clearly steer me toward either Nate or Donovan. With each day that went by, I just felt more and more unsettled and confused. And miserable. Tamara was a great listener, but she didn't have any answers, either, other than telling me to just go with my heart. Even she admitted that was kind of a gag-worthy cliché.
"Although...." She gave me a little smile from across the table at a bistro where we were having lunch. "Even the worst clichés can hold valuable truth. So I guess I stand by that. Go with your heart."
I sighed, moving some pasta salad around on my plate. "Yeah. I know. It would be easier to do that if my heart wasn’t constantly changing its mind on me. One minute, I'm convinced Nate and I can get through anything together, and then the next, I'm worried that maybe we can't, and then what if I call up Donovan and he's already met someone else. How terrible would that be?"
Tamara agreed that it would be pretty terrible, and I continued. "I just wish I had a crystal ball and could see who I'm meant to be with. The man I love more than anything and whose body drives me absolutely insane, but his friends and business associates are mostly jerks and he's unwilling to defend me to them—or the man I have affection for, his friends are probably nice and mature, and he might be able to give me the baby I so badly want. Oh, and he's never had any problem sticking up for me."
Tamara took a sip of her iced tea and cleared her throat, her dark eyes serious. "You know...let's say that Nate's possible fertility problems do turn out to be an issue. Let's say that you decide to work through things with him and move forward, and it turns out that he really can't get you pregnant naturally. Why would that have to be the end of your dream to have a baby? There's still fertility treatments and procedures the two of you could undergo, or there's even donor insemination or adoption."
"I know...and I think adoption is a wonderful thing, but I guess I've just always wanted the whole pregnancy experience. As far as fertility treatments and procedures Nate and I could do, all those things take time, and I just feel like it's running out. I'm thirty-seven; it is running out. I was just really hoping we’d conceive naturally, and right away. I was just hoping for magic, I guess. Maybe now it's a good thing that that didn't happen. Because maybe Nate isn't even the one I'm supposed to be with anymore. Maybe it's Donovan. Maybe it's someone more willing to stand up for me and defend me."
By the end of lunch, I was still no closer to figuring out what I should do. One thing was for sure. I was missing Nate like crazy. I was missing the feel of his strong arms around me; his sense of humor; the sense of fun he brought into my life; and of course, I was missing our passionate lovemaking. I was missing everything about Nate so badly I was beginning to have serious trouble even eating and sleeping.
The next day, Saturday, after yet another night of poor sleep, I supervised a weekend sale at my candle store, more just for something to do to keep my mind off Nate than because my employees really needed supervising. I arrived home around seven and made a small grilled chicken salad for dinner, resigning myself to another night in, alone.
I'd made it through maybe half my salad, forcing myself to eat, when a knock sounded on my front door. I got up from the kitchen table warily, wondering if it was Nate, even though he hadn't been by in days. I just wasn't ready to talk to him yet.
But to my surprise, when I looked through the peephole, it wasn't Nate. It was his best friend Mike and Mike's wife Amy, the only two of Nate's friends who had ever treated me with kindness and respect.
I opened the door, wondering if they'd come over to try to encourage me to talk to Nate. "Hi, guys."
Amy smiled, making her light hazel eyes twinkle. "Hi. This is a kidnapping."
Chapter12
I stared at Amy, uncomprehending. "What do you mean 'a kidnapping?' Where are you taking me? And why?"
She smiled. "Too many questions for someone being kidnapped. Just throw on something semi-fancy. We'll tell you where we're taking you on the way."
Sure the destination was going to be dinner with Nate or something, I sighed.
"No. No, sorry, but I'm not going. Look...." Realizing I hadn't even invited Amy and Mike inside yet, I stepped aside and gestured in the direction of the living room. "Here, guys. Come on in so we can visit for a minute. But wherever you're planning on taking me, I'm not going. And that's final."
They both came in, and Amy took a seat on the couch, pulling Mike down with her.
"We'll just wait right here while you get dressed."
"What? No. No way. I know you want to take me somewhere to meet Nate, but I'm not doing it. We're just having some problems right now, as I'm sure you both already know, and I'm just not ready to talk to him yet. I've just gotta figure out some things first. So, thank you for your efforts, but I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying in tonight. Right here."
Amy looked at Mike. "Do you want to go down to the car to get the rope and duct tape, or should I?"
I sighed, crossing my arms across my chest. "I appreciate this, guys; I really do. But I'm afraid I'm not going to let myself be kidnapped. Sorry. And that's my final answer."
Now it was Amy's turn to sigh, and she heaved a long, dramatic one, then raked a hand through her tangle of auburn curls.
"Justine. We're not just Nate's friends; we're your friends, too, now. We really like you. We care about you. And doesn't friendship deserve friendship in return? Doesn't friendship mean that friends do little favors for each other? Little favors like allowing oneself to be kidnapped? See, I think it does. So will you do it? Will you let us take you somewhere? And I promise that wherever this someplace is, you do not, I repeat, do not have to talk to Nate if you don't want to. I promise you that. You can just hang out with me and Mike, and the moment you want to leave, we'll leave. So...how about it? Will you agree to be kidnapped? Or do I need to go get my duct tape."
I stood thinking, realizing that she and Mike really had become my friends, despite both of them being about a decade younger than me. They were both funny, kind, and charming, and they'd been the only two people in Nate's social circle who had welcomed me into the group with open arms. The only two people who had been friendly to me. Maybe that made them deserve me doing them a little friendship favor in return.
After a few moments, I sighed. "Fine. I go with you guys to wherever it is you want me to go. I'm holding you to your promise, Amy. The moment I want to leave, you better not give me any hassles."
She grinned, glancing at Mike, who was also grinning. "Okay. You've got a deal."
We left a short while later after I'd put my hair up in a twist, applied a little makeup, put on some jewelry, and dressed in a fitted, camel-colored sheath dress that showed off my curvy figure to its best advantage and also seemed to make my dark caramel skin glow with a golden hue in contrast.
Once the three of us were in Mike and Amy's car, I asked them to please tell me where we were going.
Mike said we were heading to an exclusive restaurant Nate had rented out for a party to celebrate the upcoming finalization of the upcoming billion-dollar deal with Samantha. "But don't worry. Like Amy said, you don't have to talk to Nate if you don't want to, and we can leave whenever you want to."
I wondered exactly how big this particular restaurant was. I wondered if it was big enough to have at least fifty feet of space between me, Nate, and Samantha at all times. Because I just knew she'd be hanging all over him. I wasn't sure if I could stomach it.
When we arrived, the party was already in full swing, with maybe a hundred people milling around, ordering drinks from the bar, and filling plates at a tapas buffet in the middle of the red-and-gold decorated restaurant. I spotted Nate immediately, and my heart ached. He looked even more dashing and handsome than usual in a navy blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. His dark hair was rakishly tousled, exactly how I liked it, and the dim lighting in the restaurant and the slight shadows it created highlighted the strong, masculine angle of his square jaw. I wanted to throw myself into his strong arms. I wanted to bury my face in his broad chest and tell him how much I'd missed him. I wanted to tell him that I loved him so much that I was sure we could work through anything.
Samantha was with him. Like I expected her to be, she was hanging on him, with an arm around his shoulders. She was laughing and leaning over, her breasts nearly spilling out of the top of the very low-cut pink sequined dress she was wearing. To his credit, Nate looked uncomfortable and sat staring down at a plate of food in front of him. They sat at a group table maybe thirty feet away, just close enough for me to see an expression of pain in his eyes.
I hissed at Amy. "Why am I here? Let's just go." Right then, Nate saw me and stood, flinging Samantha's arm off.
She followed his line of vision, scowled, and spoke in a voice loud enough for nearly everyone to hear. "I didn't know assistants were invited to this party."
I turned and began heading for the door. "I'm done. I'm going home to call someone."
I was going to call Donovan.
Amy grabbed my elbow to stop me. "No, wait. Just wait. Nate got everyone together tonight to make a speech, and I think you'll want to hear it."
I scoffed. "Some kind of speech praising Samantha for being such a great business partner or something? No, thanks."
"No, that's not what he's going to say. Just wait. Just listen."
Mike strode over to a small stage where a group of musicians were preparing to play, grabbed a wireless microphone, went over to Nate, and handed it to him. Everyone in the restaurant quieted and turned their gazes to Nate. Samantha looked up at him, her mouth curving in a smirk, seeming to think along the same lines that I was, that he was about to give some sort of speech expressing gratitude for their business partnership. Nate was looking far too serious to be about to give a speech like that. My heartbeat began pounding in my ears, and he looked directly at me for a moment before addressing the crowd, thanking everyone for coming.
"I appreciate you all sharing in celebration of Samantha's and my upcoming deal. I have to come clean...that's not why I invited you all here tonight. I invited you all here because I have a few things to say publicly, and I thank you all in advance for listening." He paused and cleared his throat. "The merger and sale of Samantha’s and my companies are actually not happening."
A murmur rose from the crowd, and Samantha instantly turned white as a sheet, her smirk suddenly gone.
"This is because Samantha has been incredibly rude, cruel, and hostile to the woman I love, and I will not stand for that." He turned his gaze from everyone assembled to Samantha and addressed her directly. "Justine is the woman I love, and since you can't seem to give her your respect, I have no desire to do business with you. Ever. So offer to cut someone else in on the billion-dollar deal, because the love of my life is worth more to me than that. And now, you may leave."
There was an audible gasp from the crowd. I even gasped myself. One of the musicians even covered her open mouth with her hand. Samantha, whose face had suddenly turned from the palest white to beet red, sat stammering. Nate stared her down, his jaw clenched. After a long moment or two, she sprang up from her seat, slammed her napkin on the table, and stalked out of the restaurant, huffing and puffing.
Amy and Mike clapped, and maybe a dozen other people joined in, including a waitress and two of the musicians.
When the applause had died down, Nate continued, addressing the crowd. "Many of you have also been incredibly rude to Justine, and I don't care how good of friends we supposedly are, or how far we go back, I will not stand for it any longer. No friendship is worth the friendship I have with my very best friend, the woman I love. So, as harsh as this may sound, I'm putting you all on notice. Continued rudeness to the love of my life will not be tolerated. Justine is an incredible, beautiful, wonderful woman, and those of you who are unable to give her your respect and attempt to get to know her will no longer be welcome in my life. As it is right now, several of you in particular owe her apologies."
Nate glanced at a couple of people specifically, one of them being Taylor, who'd been so rude to me on the phone. "And for those of you who care to apologize, I'll leave it up to Justine to determine if the apology is sincere. For those of you who do not care to apologize when you know Justine deserves one from you, the door is right over that way." Nate paused and took a deep breath. "And that's it. That's all I have to say. Thank you all for hearing me out. I do value the friendships I have with you all, or else you all wouldn't be here right now. So I hope this can be some sort of fresh start. Because although I do value my friendships, the woman I love means everything to me. Thank you again, everyone. Have a good evening, and enjoy the party."
Applause broke out once again, but this time, it wasn't just Mike, Amy, and maybe a dozen other people. This time, it seemed like everyone joined in, all hundred-some people in attendance. Everyone but me, that is. I was too busy blinking back tears that were threatening to fall from my eyes. Nate began heading over to me, and upon seeing him, Amy gave my shoulder a little squeeze before heading over to the buffet.
When Nate reached me, he searched my face, his expression anxious. "Would you like some champagne?"
I threw myself into his arms and buried my face in his hard chest, speaking in a low voice. "I love you. And thank you. That's all I wanted. I just wanted you to defend me."
He kissed the top of my head. "I'm so sorry I didn't sooner. It was wrong of me not to."
Just then, the band started up, playing a slow, romantic song, and I glanced over at a hardwood dance floor next to them. I told Nate I wanted to dance.
"I just want you to hold me on the dance floor. I just want your arms around me."
Grinning, he said nothing would make him happier.
Over the next few hours, we danced, talked, laughed, ate, and sipped champagne. Taylor came up to me at one point and apologized for saying rude things about me, and she seemed to really mean it. We resolved to make a fresh start. Shortly after, a small group of young women, all wives or girlfriends of Nate's friends, approached me and asked if I'd like to have lunch with all of them sometime. I said I'd love to; they all said great; and then one of them complemented my dress and said she admired my sense of style. This particular woman had made a rude comment to me about my age at an event a few weeks previously, but like Taylor, she seemed to be sincere about making a fresh start with me. I thanked her for the compliments and told her I'd be looking forward to lunch.
Around midnight, the party was still in full swing, but Nate asked if I'd like to take a moonlit carriage ride around Central Park, and I said yes, suddenly eager to be alone with him.
A while later, we sat in the back of a carriage drawn by white horses, pulling us along a well-lit path that had a reputation for being reasonably safe, even at night. It was fairly warm out, for October, anyway, and the air carried the scent of crisp, autumn leaves. Cozy and comfortable beneath a blanket, I snuggled into Nate, who held me in his arms while we both gazed up at the clear, dark sky.
I'd thought we might spend the time talking about everything, but I honestly just didn't feel like it. Nate had defended me; I was in his arms, which was my favorite place in the world; and that was enough.
But near the end of our carriage ride, I became curious what had spurred him to take a stand against Samantha and call the deal off, and I asked him.
He looked thoughtful for a long moment, his handsome face and deep blue eyes illuminated by the moonlight, before responding. "Mike and Amy suggested I take a trip, just to clear my head and think. They thought maybe I'd been in the city too long, dealing with too many business people, and that maybe this kind of environment was starting to cloud my judgment about the situation with you and Samantha and the merger deal. So...I took their advice and went to the Poconos for three days, just by myself. I camped out, and I hiked, and I just spent some time alone thinking. I soon realized Mike and Amy had been right. I'd completely lost perspective about what's important. Which, of course, isn't money or another deal to add to my resume; it's you, and your happiness. When I understood that, I decided to make a stand for you. I decided to do the right thing. I'm just sorry I didn't sooner, because, Justine, believe me when I say this. You're my whole world."
I looked up at him, fighting tears for the second time that night, my heart so full of love for him that I felt like it could float right out of my chest. He dipped his head and gave me a kiss so tender I actually curled my toes. At that moment, I knew that no matter what, I could never be happy with any other man but him.
Later, he drove us back to my place while I relaxed in the passenger seat in a sort of happy, dreamy haze. I quickly snapped out of it when Nate glanced over at me, his expression serious.
"I hate to put a damper on this evening in any way, but there's something I have to ask you. And I can't wait any longer."
Chapter13
I sat up a little straighter in my seat, suddenly alert. "You can ask me anything, Nate; what is it?"
He continued driving, scanning the street and traffic in front of him, and didn't respond right away. "I guess first, I just want to tell you that I'm really, truly sorry for not telling you about my family's fertility problems sooner. I should have. I want to let you know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to still have a family with you, naturally or by other means. We can keep trying to conceive naturally, of course, but if that ultimately doesn't work...." He glanced over at me, his expression anxious. "If that ultimately doesn't work, would you ever consider adoption? Do you think you could be happy with me in the long run, even if the child we eventually have isn't ours biologically?"
I took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond. "Well...yes. Yes, after tonight, I know I can be happy with you no matter what, because you're the love of my life. And now I know for sure that I could never be happy with anyone else, ever. But as far as adoption...." I sighed, looking out the car window. "It's not that I don't think it's a wonderful and amazing thing, but I was just telling Tamara the other day that I've always had my heart set on going through the whole pregnancy experience. But maybe...." I gave my head a little shake and turned my gaze forward again, suddenly tired. "But maybe adoption, though. Maybe it would be fine. I don't know exactly how I feel right now. I'm just suddenly a little tired."
Nate said he understood, and that we could talk about everything more later.
When we arrived at my building, he asked if I wanted him to spend the night, and although the prospect of lovemaking was more than tempting, I begged off, telling him I just kind of wanted some time alone to digest the events of the day and think about what we'd just talked about, which was true. But I also had a phone call to make.
Nate said he understood and dropped me off in front of my building with a kiss, making me promise to get a hold of him the next day, which I said I'd definitely do.
I dialed Donovan's number the moment I got into my apartment. I knew it was late, and I knew there was a chance I'd be waking him up, even though from what I remembered, he'd been quite a notorious night owl. I just couldn't let him go on for one more second thinking that there might be a chance, however small, that I might be single again someday and might be giving him a call. That wasn't fair to him, because I knew I'd never be single again. I now knew that Nate and I could work through anything together and I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I wanted Donovan to be completely free to move on and find love, without the possibility of a phone call from me preventing him from doing that.
He answered on the fist ring, sounding completely awake, and I launched right in to what I had to say.
"Donovan, I think you're a wonderful guy, and you deserve to be so, so unbelievably happy. I'm calling tonight to tell you that happiness will never be with me. My boyfriend and I have had some minor struggles lately, but I now know that we can get through anything together, and we're going to be together forever. I just wanted to tell you that so that you're not waiting for a phone call that will never come. I don't want anything to stop you from going out and finding that woman that will make you as happy as you deserve to be. I know you'll find her. And when you do, I want you to give me a call, or shoot me an email, telling me all about your new happiness." I paused, my voice very unexpectedly cracking. "Okay?"
After a long second of silence, Donovan finally said okay. "And thank you, Justine. You're an amazing woman, and I'm glad you're so happy. I truly am. If I meet a woman half as amazing as you, I'll be very lucky. So thank you again, and goodnight. Best of luck to you."
"You, too. Goodnight."
I ended the call, letting my breath out in a rush, and my phone immediately rang. It was Tamara, asking if I was home and awake and if I had any ice cream in my apartment. I did; she came over; and we sat at my kitchen table with bowls of mint chocolate chip. I filled her in about the evening's events and the Donovan call, and then gave her a quick recap of Nate's and my conversation in his car, which I'd forgotten to include.
"So, I basically told him I'd think about adoption, that maybe it could be a possibility. Although I'm not a hundred percent sure about it."
Tamara set her spoon down and sat back in her chair. "Well, I've been kind of biting my tongue about this because I know how much you want the whole pregnancy experience, which I completely understand. I mean...obviously. Look at me. I was willing to shell out all kinds of cash for donor insemination just so I could have the whole pregnancy experience myself. But if it hadn't worked, I definitely would have considered adoption, and here's why. The way I see it, yeah, experiencing a pregnancy is an amazing and wonderful thing, but it definitely isn't the most important thing. Having a healthy, happy child is. The end result, being a mother, is, no matter how you get there. So ultimately, the biology of it all isn't even important. Because biology isn't what makes a mom a mom, or a family a family. Take the baby I'm carrying, for example. Will the sperm donor I used be considered his or her dad? Will he be considered part of our family? No, of course not. Because time, love, and shared experiences make a family. And the same, with a child, is what makes a mom. Or a dad. So...that's my take on things. I really hope you and Nate can get pregnant naturally, but if you can't, I don't think adoption would be the worst thing in the world, and in fact, I think it would be pretty incredible. So maybe just think about it. Pregnancy is only for nine months, but a child is forever, no matter how that child comes into your life."
I knew she was right. And I also knew that like Nate with the Samantha situation, maybe I'd somehow lost a bit of perspective about everything. I realized I'd been focusing so hard on the pregnancy aspect of motherhood that I'd been neglecting to think about what really mattered, which was of course the child, no matter if it were Nate's and mine biologically or not.
Tamara soon left, and I texted Nate, asking if he was still awake. He called right away, asking if everything was all right. I said it was, but that I just had something to tell him.
"I just want to tell you whether we have our own biological child or adopt, I want to have a family with you. It doesn't matter to me how we get our child, I just want to raise it with you, because there's no one I love more. I think I've kind of lost sight of this lately with trying so hard to get pregnant and all, but I've kind of gained some perspective. So let's keep trying, but I'm saying yes. Yes, adoption can be an option if we don't get pregnant naturally. And...." I paused, wishing I'd had him stay over. "And I wish you were here with me right now, because I'm kind of not so tired anymore, and I wish we could work on our baby trying right now. I've really missed making love to you."
"Twenty minutes. I'll be right there. Keep that thought in mind. Please. Because I've been feeling the exact same way. To a degree of frustration I never dreamed possible, actually."
He was actually at my door in fifteen minutes. We lost every shred of our clothes in the living room while we staggered our way into my dimly-lit bedroom, kissing, teasing, and touching. By the time we made it to my bed, I wanted him so badly I was panting.
"Let me ride you."
His deep blue eyes twinkled.
"Gladly. Your wish is my command. And this...." He moved one of my hands to his long, thick, rock-hard manhood. "This is all for your pleasure." He moved his mouth to my ear and spoke in a near-whisper. "I want you to ride me and be just as naughty as you want to be. I want you to ride me until you lose yourself in pleasure and see stars."
His words, combined with the feel of his stiffened shaft in my hand, were almost more than I could take. I couldn't wait a moment longer.
I gave him a light shove, and he fell back on the bed, his mouth curving in a grin. I climbed on top of him, straddling him, positioned the head of his manhood at my slick entrance, and then slid onto him, not stopping until I had every last inch of his thick rod inside of me. The sensation made me cry out, throwing my head back, while Nate groaned, his hands finding my hips and gripping them.
I began rocking my hips slowly, reveling in the feeling of being so completely and intimately filled. But within a few minutes, I felt an urgent need to increase my pace, dropped to all fours, and began working Nate's long shaft in an out of my slickness with short, fast, increasingly desperate movements. It wasn't long before tension low in my belly seemed to explode and then dissipate, spreading throughout my body in shuddering waves. I moaned, burying my face in Nate's muscular shoulder while he grunted his own release, clutching my bottom with his long, strong fingers.
I fell asleep that night with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. And I slept better than I had in weeks.
The next day, Sunday, he asked if I'd like to take a little trip, and I said yes.
"But to where?"
He gave me a half-grin, shrugging. "You won't know until the jet lands."
"We're taking the jet? Well, now I really have to know where we're going. Should I pack some clothes?"
He said no. "This will just be a short day trip."
I couldn't imagine where we'd be flying to for just the day, and why. But I was more than eager to find out.
A couple of hours later, after a very brief ride in the jet, we landed at a small airport near the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania. From there, we rented a truck and drove up a mountain path. When the path ended and we couldn't go any further, we got out and hiked a short distance up a narrow, sun-dappled trail, until we reached a wide clearing in the side of the mountain. It overlooked a dense forest of gold and orange trees far below us, and the view could only be described as breathtaking. I stared out at it, suddenly a little choked up for some reason.
"Nate, this is absolutely gorgeous."
"I hoped you'd think so. When I saw this view while I was out here on my own those couple of days, I thought this would be perfect."
"It is, but...what do you mean? Perfect for what?"
"For this."
He dropped to one knee beside me, making me gasp. And then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, making me cry.
He looked up into my eyes with his own eyes just slightly pink. "Justine, you're the love of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my days making you happy. I want to have a family with you. I want to be your husband. So will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?"
I could only nod at first, tears streaming down my face. Eventually, I found my voice.
"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."
Grinning, he slid the ring on my finger. An enormous diamond surrounded by a ring of emeralds glittered in the sun. Emeralds were my favorite stone, and he'd known that.
"Do you like it?"
Like wasn't even remotely the right word. The ring was beyond beautiful. It was beyond any ring I'd ever imagined, even in my wildest dreams. It was flawless.
"I love it. It's absolutely perfect."
Grinning even wider, Nate got to his feet, scooped me up, and spun me around, whispering how much he loved me.
Squeezing him tight, I whispered back. "I love you, too. I will every single day for the rest of my life. No matter what."
Chapter14
Several Weeks Later...
From the moment I stepped into Nate's luxury penthouse, I felt like something was off. I just couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was.
After we'd gotten engaged a few weeks earlier, Nate invited me to move in with him. I had been doing that, happily, little increment by little increment. He had movers bring over all my heavy stuff and a few furniture items I wanted to keep, but I wanted to move the smaller stuff and breakables myself. That's what I was doing Friday afternoon while he was in a staff meeting with employees of his newest internet company, which was the third one he'd started. The sale of the first two made him a billionaire several times over. And he was only twenty-six. Needless to say, he was more ambitious, determined, and mature than most twenty-six-year-olds.
At thirty-seven, I am more than a little bit older but that fact never bothered Nate or me. He’d always found women older than him most attractive and I can’t deny there were many, many advantages to having a twenty-six-year-old fiancé. His toned, muscular body was one thing, and his high level of sexual desire and his sexual stamina were others. But, although those things were incredibly nice, those aren’t the main reasons I am in love with him. I love him because of his kind heart, his generous and compassionate nature, and the fact that he treats me like an absolute queen.
He had made a lot of sacrifices and concessions for me since we'd started dating nine months earlier including bowing out of a billion-dollar business deal in order to defend me against a woman intent on disrespecting me every chance she got. At that time, he'd also lost a few friends when he informed them that rudeness about his and my age difference would no longer be tolerated. Even before those events, he made an even bigger concession for me. I decided that I wanted to start trying for a baby but he revealed that he hadn’t started thinking about children yet. He wanted to travel more first. But then, after some serious reflection, he agreed to start trying for a baby with me. He didn't want to lose me and he decided that whatever made me happy was what he wanted too.
We started trying for a baby. But after a couple of months with no success, Nate revealed he had a family history of men having difficulty getting their partners pregnant due to low sperm counts. I hadn't been thrilled to hear this news, because I knew that with me being thirty-seven, conceiving might be difficult anyway. But I had accepted the fact that Nate might have fertility issues because I loved him so much I was willing to work through anything. We were still going to try to conceive naturally, although we both agreed that adoption might be an option down the road. We were soon going make an appointment for Nate to be seen by a fertility specialist to determine if he did indeed have fertility issues. However, we both had been so busy with engagement parties, various events at the Manhattan candle store I owned, his work schedule, and my moving, that we hadn't yet had time.
I began unpacking a box of crystal wineglasses in one of the dark mahogany cabinets in his spacious kitchen. It was now our spacious kitchen, I supposed, trying to shake the feeling that something was off, and wondering why I even had the feeling in the first place. It was a beautiful, sunny November day. Sunlight was streaming in through the numerous large windows in the apartment. The day had been perfectly ordinary, my afternoon moving had been perfectly ordinary, and not a single thing in the apartment seemed out of place.
Except, I suddenly realized, for the door of a walk-in pantry at the far end of the kitchen. It was ajar, though just barely, maybe just a quarter of an inch. But this was strange. Nate and I always kept it shut. As far as I could remember, it had been shut when I had brought the first load of kitchen breakables over to the apartment earlier that today. In fact, the more I thought about it, I was positive the door had been shut. I distinctly remembered putting an expensive bottle of truffle oil in the pantry and then shutting the door. I was sure of it. As far as I knew, Nate hadn't been to the apartment during the hour or two when I had been gone to get my second load from my old apartment. We were the only two people who had keys and the door had been locked when I arrived. And yet, here was the door to the walk-in pantry, slightly, worryingly and maybe even alarmingly, ajar.
With the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, I set the last of my crystal wineglasses in the cabinet and shut it, my gaze on the mahogany door to the walk-in pantry. My best friend Tamara had offered to come with me to help me unpack, but I’d said no. I knew the box of breakables wouldn't take me long at all, and I just wanted her to rest. She had been through a long week doing various work projects, and she was pregnant and had been feeling really ill off and on. But now, with the pantry door ajar for no obvious reason and me alone in the apartment, I regretted my decision.
I was wondering if I was being silly, maybe I'd left the door ajar and had just forgotten, or maybe a draft or something had opened it. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Nate's number. I wasn't even sure exactly why I was calling him except for maybe just some moral support while I investigated the pantry and then shut the door. Which I knew was silly. I knew there must be a perfectly logical explanation for the door being a tiny bit ajar and a grown woman shouldn't need a hand-holder to shut it.
Nate's phone rang several times, and I realized he was probably still in the staff meeting. I decided to let it ring a few more times and go to voice mail, figuring I would leave a short message asking him if by any chance he had been to the apartment for anything that afternoon and had left the pantry door ajar. I knew that was a long shot but I thought I'd at least ask.
I never got to leave the voice mail. A man stepped out from the pantry and the phone fell from my hand.
He held a knife and gestured to my phone with it, his green eyes gleaming. "Yeah...I thought this was a good time for me to step on out. Because nobody's calling anyone right now. That will be later." He was tall and well built, and spoke in a smooth, cultured voice. Not at all how I imagined a home intruder would sound.
I stood frozen. I couldn't even breathe.
With a little snort and a leer, the man, no more than seven or eight feet away from me, gestured at me with the knife. "Cat got your tongue? Wondering who I am, what I want, and how I got in here? Well, the ‘who I am’ is easy. You can call me Mr. X and I'm a professional criminal. I excel at making money the easy way. Although...sometimes it's not really that easy. Take this job for example. What I thought would be a simple one-minute lock-pick to get in here ended up taking me a half-hour. Really sturdy lock you have there.” He took a few steps closer to me, the long knife he held glittering in bright sunlight coming in the kitchen windows.
And now, for the ‘what I want’ part. It's simple. I want a hundred million dollars. That's how much I'm going to ransom you to your billionaire fiancée for. I've been studying up on him...in the papers and online, and I know he's good for at least that much. I may even ask for more; I don't know. But I know a hundred million in liquid cash will be nothing for him to come up with. I also know he won't be home anytime soon because he never leaves work earlier than five on Fridays. Like I said, I'm a professional criminal and I've been studying both of your schedules and movements. I've done my homework."
I'd somehow managed to resume breathing, but not at a normal pace. My breaths were coming shallow and fast, and my hands were shaking. The shaking seemed to be spreading to the rest of my body.
He actually offered me his arm. "So. Shall we?"
Seized with panic, I suddenly found my voice. "No...no! You can't do this! Nate will call the police, and they'll –“
The man leered at me. "Cat still got your tongue? You can't even say hello? Well, no need to say anything, I suppose. I just need you to cooperate and come with me, which you'll do willingly, unless you want to get sliced to ribbons. We'll leave the same way I came up, which is by the service stairs next to the elevator, and then we'll exit through the back of the building and hop right on in a car I have waiting." He took yet another couple of steps closer to me, putting him less than a foot away, and lowered his voice. "And let me reiterate...if you do not cooperate fully...if you so much as make a peep as we make our way down the stairs...I'll slice your throat without a second thought. You'll bleed to death before I'm even in my getaway car."
––––––––
He paused and studied me for a long moment, his expression almost becoming one of amusement, no doubt in response to my own expression, which I was sure was one of terror.
"Well, actually, no, he won't. When I call him later on, that will be one of the things I'm going to tell him. If he calls the police...instant death for you. Now, let's go."
He grabbed my arm to drag me out of the kitchen, but I dug in my heels, grabbing at the counter tops, screaming. My only hope was that the residents in the apartment below the penthouse would hear me.
Glaring at me, his green eyes like slits, the man tightened his hold on my arm. "Shut up!"
"Let me go! You're hurting me!"
He tightened his hold even further still, his hand like a steel vice, and gave me a little shake. "You hear me? Shut up!"
Afraid of what he might do if I didn't, I shut up. My screaming tapered off into whimpering because of the pain coursing through my arm.
I tried to twist away and out of his grasp. "Please. Let me go. I'll get Nate to give you money anyway. You don't even need to kidnap me. You-"
"Shut...up!" Still squeezing my arm, he raised the knife to my throat and lowered his voice to a small rumble. "One more word, and I'm going to cut you. Which would be a shame, because...." He did a little snort, his angry expression changing to a smirk. "You and I are going to have a little fun later on and I'd rather you not be a bleeding mess. Although...whatever. Doesn't really matter much to me either way. Now, come on, and keep your pretty little mouth shut."
He gave my arm a good yank, trying to drag me out of the kitchen again, but I just couldn't let him take me. Even if that meant that he'd attack me with the knife right there in the kitchen. Although I wasn't the very most in-shape person in the world, I was no weakling either. I knew I had to fight. I knew I had to try.
Clutching the counter top with one hand to stop him from dragging me, I pulled my other hand back, fingers curled in a fist. I had never punched anyone in my life before. I wasn't exactly sure how to do it but I was about to find out. If I could even just hit him hard enough to make him stagger back for a moment or two and release my arm that would be all the time I needed to take off for the front door, screaming for help.
But before I could deliver my punch, a loud noise sounded from the foyer, just a short hallway down from the kitchen. In the time it took for me to blink, Nate came rocketing into the kitchen, snarling. He delivered a punch to Mr. X that sent him reeling, releasing my arm. Mr. X hadn't had time to react other than to open his eyes wide in surprise.
Nate began pummeling him, fists flying, and not stopping until he had beaten him to the ground. In his attempts to cover his face and body, Mr. X dropped his knife on the kitchen floor. Nate pounced on him and punched him a few more times, the muscles in his broad back visibly rippling beneath the fabric of his thin, charcoal-gray shirt. He paused for a second.
It was just a split-second, but that's all Mr. X needed. In a series of moves so fast they seemed like a blur, he rolled Nate off him, slamming him into the floor, and then gave him one powerful punch to the face. He sprang up and bolted out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.
Dazed from the punch, Nate attempted to sit up. His nose was pouring blood.
"Where did he..” I knelt beside him, shaking. "Out the front door, but just relax. You're bleeding really bad."
I grabbed a dish towel from the counter and tried to hold it up to his nose, but he shook his head, pushing it away, and stood.
––––––––
"No. Gotta catch him."
With that, he tore out of the apartment. I snatched up my phone, dialed nine-one-one, and gave the dispatcher a quick recap of what had happened including the address and a description of Mr. X. She asked for more details and told me to go lock the apartment door. I did so with my fingers trembling. Growing increasingly worried for Nate's safety, I remained on the phone with the dispatcher for a few more questions but soon I cut her off.
"Just please, please hurry. My fiancé is bleeding pretty badly and I'm so afraid of him getting hurt worse."
Nate was younger and seemed stronger than Mr. X and I had no doubt he could more than hold his own in some sort of extended fistfight. I had no way of knowing if Mr. X had an additional knife or maybe even a gun in his getaway car. I didn't want Nate to find out the hard way.
The operator told me to just hang on and stay on the line. The police would be arriving any minute. A few seconds later, she said they were there. "But just stay in your apartment and don't open your door until you see badges outside through the peephole."
I said okay, thanked her, and hung up. I hugged my arms to my chest and tried to take some deep, steadying breaths while saying a little prayer for Nate's safety, with my eyes closed. After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. I flew over to it, looked through the peephole, and saw Nate standing in front of several police officers. Most of the blood that had been on his face had been wiped away.
Almost too anxious to even breathe, I yanked open the door. "Did you catch him?"
While the police filed past him and into the penthouse, Nate pulled me into his arms, shaking his head. "I’m sorry. I'm so sorry, but we didn't."
I nodded into his strong shoulder, cringing. "It's okay. They'll track him down, won't they?"
Nate squeezed me even tighter, smoothing my hair and kissing the side of my face. "Yes. They'll find him. There will be a lot of evidence in here to help them. Fingerprints on the knife for starters."
At the mention of the knife, a shudder of some sort seemed to ripple through Nate, and he squeezed me tighter still, rocking me with almost imperceptible movement.
"God, Justine...I can't even put into words how relieved I am you're okay. When I answered your call, it sounded like you dropped the phone, but I still heard everything. It was like torture to hear that man threaten you. I was nearby, just outside the building coming home early, and I raced up here as fast as humanly possible, just praying he wouldn't kidnap you before I could get in the door."
"Thank God you got here when you did. You rescued me."
"I'm just glad I got up here in the nick of time."
Nate was holding me so forcefully I could barely breathe, though I didn't want him to stop. I felt protected and safe in his arms, and after what I'd just been through, that was just what I needed.
Suddenly, he released me and looked at me, his face pale. "I heard you scream while he had you. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"
I shook my head. "No. No, I'm okay."
But then I remembered my arm, still throbbing with a dull ache. I knew the area where Mr. X had grabbed me was probably bruised bright purple.
"Or, I mean...." I swallowed, not wanting to tell Nate that I had been hurt, at least a little, because I knew it would kill him. "Well, I might have a tiny little bruise. But that's it and I'm fine. I guess we can just thank God he didn't hurt me worse, because-"
"What did he do to you?"
Nate's normally light golden face was now white as a sheet.
"What did he do to you, Justine?"
I sighed, wincing. "He just squeezed my arm really hard but that's all. It'll just be a little bruise."
Nate insisted that I roll up my sleeve and show him. A reddish-purplish bruise in the shape of a hand covered a large area of my upper arm.
He studied it for a moment or two with muscles in his strong, square jaw working. "Now I wish I'd beaten him to within an inch of his life."
Soon the police, who had been surveying the scene in the kitchen, came out and asked if they could interview me and Nate.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. The police were able to lift fingerprints from the knife and determined that the man who'd identified himself to me as Mr. X was a career criminal named James Foster. He recently had been released from prison after serving six years for robbery of an art museum and attempted murder of the museum guard. The police were confident they could recapture him. It might just take them some time. All of this was not much of a comfort to me.
Even though the police reassured Nate and me that James Foster most certainly wouldn't be back, Nate hired two private security guards to patrol the penthouse door overnight. They arrived around eight o' clock.
Soon after, he made us both some food, made me eat something, and drew a bubble bath for me. I relaxed in it, or tried to anyway, with a glass of wine. Yet when I got out a half hour later, I still felt nervous and tense.
Nate said it was more than understandable that I was still feeling rattled and that a good night's sleep would probably make me feel much better. I wasn't so sure but I let him tuck me into bed after he'd applied an icy-cold compress to the bruise on my arm for the fifth or sixth time that evening. He got in beside me, took me in his strong arms, and began smoothing my hair. Eventually I fell asleep.
I awoke around midnight from a terrible nightmare. I dreamt that James Foster had broken in again and slashed my throat with his knife. I sat up in bed, panting. Nate a flicked a bedside lamp on and sat up beside me "What's the matter? Are you okay, sweetie?"
I shook my head, trying to catch my breath. "No. No, I'm not. We're not safe here in the city anymore. We need to move out of Manhattan...out of New York City altogether. We have to do it right now."
Nate frowned, his deep blue eyes dark in the dim light. "No. No way. Are you kidding me? No, that's not happening."
––––––––
Chapter15
Sitting up next to him in bed, I looked at Nate, astounded. "Did you just say 'That's not happening' to my request to move like you won't even give it a single thought? Like you don't even care about my thoughts or feelings? Like you won't even give them consideration?” My fear made me ramble.
“I was almost kidnapped today, Nate! A man broke into our apartment and almost kidnapped me. He could have taken me and killed me. He even hinted that he was going to rape me. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Doesn't that make you scared for my safety? I'm scared for my safety, and I consider myself a pretty tough cookie. I'm terrified, actually.” I tried to get myself under control. “Especially since we're trying for a baby. It doesn't matter that I might never get pregnant. The point is, what if it ever does? What if the same thing happens again and I lose the baby or something? Or if we eventually adopt and our child is threatened?
“Manhattan is full of criminals. It's not a place to raise a family. And that's why I think we should move someplace safer...The Hamptons maybe. But yet you just said, 'That's not happening' when I suggested a move. Like your mind is completely made up already." I exhaled in a huff, folding my arms across my chest. "So I guess that's that. Your word is final."
Sighing, Nate reached for one of my hands, which was wedged in the crook of my arm, and gave it a little squeeze. His lightly tanned skin contrasted nicely with my dark caramel-colored skin, a sight I always found beautiful, though I was too mad to appreciate it right then. I didn't try to shake his hand from mine. Somehow, I could never resist his touch, no matter how angry I was.
He gave my hand another little squeeze and began rubbing gentle, slow circles on my skin. "Hey. I know you're upset, and you have every reason to be. It's understandable after what happened today. More than understandable. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk when I said 'That's not happening'. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you more than you already have been today. But I think we should let things settle and think things over a bit before we start making major decisions like a move."
"And if I get kidnapped in the meantime, no big deal, right?"
Nate gave me a look, and even in the faint light from the bedside lamp, I could tell it was the kind of look an adult might give a child who's being unreasonable.
"That's not fair, Justine. You know how important your safety is to me."
I knew he was right. I wasn't being fair. He had been protective and caring towards me since the day we'd met.
I sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I'm just mad and I'm not being fair right now. But if you really want to keep me safe, then why can't we just move? Why can't we move somewhere safer, with fewer criminals, like The Hamptons?"
He snorted. "Well, our jobs, for one thing. You've said several times in the past few weeks that you'd like to open a second candle store location in Manhattan. I know you're a very hands-on business owner and want to be involved in all aspects of the opening of the new store, the hiring of the employees, and so on. Now, how do you think you'd be able to do that all from The Hamptons?"
"Well, I don't have to open a second store anymore. That's not important now. I just want to move someplace safer."
"What about my job? This new internet company is very important to me, and you know I'm a hands-on business owner just like you."
"You could commute every day."
Nate sputtered and couldn’t answer right away. "Commute? Are you being serious right now? I could commute? Two hours there and two hours back every day? Five or six days a week? That would be a job in and of itself."
I did realize that was a pretty silly idea.
"Maybe you could just drive in to Manhattan once a week, stay for a few days, and get all your work done before coming back home to The Hamptons."
"Where would you be while I'd be in the city? Alone at the house?"
I couldn't even stand the thought of spending a single day or night away from him.
"Well, I'll come into the city with you, for your working days."
He gave me another look like I was being irrational. "So, basically, we'd both be back living in the city again. Only now with the added complication of having a home in The Hamptons to maintain."
"But when we stayed there this past summer in that rental house, you said how silly it was that we were renting. You said yourself that we should just buy a house next summer."
He took a deep breath and didn't answer right away. "Well...yes. I guess I did. But that doesn't mean I'd like to move there year-round and have that be our home base. I still think we should keep our home base here in Manhattan. Where our friends are. Where our jobs are. Where our lives are." The words were delivered in staccato to make his point.
"Even if that means I'm not safe?"
He had stopped stroking the back of my hand with his thumb, but now he resumed, his expression tender. "I want you to believe me when I say this. Your safety is my number one priority. That's why I have armed guards outside our front door right this second. We can keep guards in front of our door twenty-four hours a day if you'd like, permanently. I'll do anything to make you feel safer here in the city. I know you're scared and rattled after what happened today. But something tells me in your heart of hearts, you want to stay here in the city too. I know that you love your candle business. You want to be there when Tamara has her baby."
He was right about that. Tamara was due in just a few months, at the end of January. As her best friend, I definitely wanted to be there to support her during the birth. Her sister and I were going to be the only ones there because she had become pregnant via donor insemination. There was no boyfriend, husband, or child's father who was going to be there. I also wanted to be there for her during the baby's first few weeks. I knew she'd need help. I wanted to be a good best friend and I was looking forward to spending time with a newborn. Even if that only increased my own longing for motherhood, as I suspected it might.
I sighed and looked at Nate. "You're right. I know I won't be much of a help to Tamara if I'm all the way in The Hamptons. It was hard enough on her just having me move in here." Before I'd moved into Nate's apartment, Tamara and I had lived in the same building. "I know you're right about all this. Today just upset me so badly, and then right before I woke up a bit ago, I had a terrible nightmare about that James Foster guy. I dreamt he slit my throat."
Nate's dark brows angled upward in expression of sympathy and he pulled me into his strong arms. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever. I feel absolutely terrible about what happened today."
I finally unfolded my arms and wrapped them around him. "I don't want you feeling that way. What happened wasn't your fault at all. Not in any way, shape, or form."
"Maybe not directly but I should have had the foresight to hire a few guards the moment we got engaged. I should have hired them not long after we began dating. I should have known that at some point, someone might try to go after you to try to get some money from me. I should have known this, and I just couldn't feel any worse that I didn't prepare better. I let you down and I'm so sorry."
"Stop. You're not responsible for the actions of a criminal. I don't want you feeling in any way responsible for one more second. I'm serious, Nate. Make me a promise right now that you won't think this way again."
He kissed the side of my face, squeezing me tighter. "All right. I promise. If you promise to put off any further thoughts of moving until things settle down some and get back to normal. I can get a permanent security detail set up."
I only hesitated a second or two before responding. "Okay. All right. No more thoughts of moving for the time being. But can we seriously have security guards outside our door twenty-four hours a day?"
"Yes. Absolutely. I'll also have a bodyguard accompanying you around town from now on. I'm not going to take any chances with your safety."
I nodded. "Okay. Thank you." I pulled my head from his shoulder and gave him a kiss. "Thank you."
He kissed me back. "Of course. I love you more than anything."
The feel of his mouth on mine made me want to kiss him again, and I did, letting my lips linger this time. He kissed me back with enthusiasm, letting his hands roam the ample curves of my body, which was covered with only a sheer, midnight blue lace nightie. My hands roamed as well, along the muscular planes of his back, the sides of his strong arms, and then the chiseled expanse of his chest. He was only wearing boxer-briefs, no shirt, and his warm bare skin under my hands was smooth as silk. Soon, I developed a frustrating sort of ache low in my belly. I became aware the feminine folds between my thighs had become swollen and slick. It never took much for Nate to get me completely turned on.
After he'd pulled off my nightie, making me completely naked, I reclined on the
bed, pulling him down with me, and guided his hand to touch me. With his long, strong fingers, he explored my slick folds, soon locating the throbbing, sensitive bud between them, and began stroking it with a fingertip. His touch was gentle but firm, making me cry out. It wasn't long before I needed to feel his hardness inside of me, and I told him so in a whisper. I hadn't even touched him; I just knew he was hard. One of the benefits of having a twenty-six-year-old boyfriend was having a partner who got extremely hard almost immediately, sometimes just from a single kiss, and stayed that way for the duration of our lovemaking.
With his breathing fast and ragged, Nate got off the bed, went to the foot of it, and took me by the hips and pulled me down to the edge. I made a soft moan of pleasure at the feel of his large hands gripping my hips. I loved it when he took charge and kind of manhandled me a little. He knew this and so lately had been stepping things up in that department to my tremendous excitement. On this night especially, for some unknown reason, I was in the mood for a little extra manhandling. I craved lovemaking a little rougher than usual. Seeing Nate attack my would-be kidnapper with such ferocity had made me realize what an alpha male he was. I wanted a little taste of that in the bedroom. He removed his boxer-briefs, stepped out of them, and then gripped my hips again. The little lamp on the end table was still on, and it illuminated Nate's thick, granite-hard erection. It pointed up so straight it nearly touched his well-defined abs. He stayed in shape by doing triathlons, and it definitely showed.
Standing at the foot of the bed with me on my back and bottom right at the edge, he had a perfect view of all my womanly parts from above. He seemed to be enjoying the view, surveying me, his breathing becoming faster and more ragged. A little thrill rippled through me to be so intimately visually explored. It was something like the slightest bit of self-consciousness mixed with the strongest desire and most urgent need. I wanted Nate to take me. I wanted him to plunge his hardness inside me in the primal act of claiming me as his woman. I could hardly wait any longer. Fortunately, I didn't have to.
With a low growl, he picked up one of my legs and brushed his mouth along the inner length of it, his half-closed eyes seeming roll back in his head. Clearly, he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.
I inched my hips just a fraction or two closer to him, now desperate to feel his long, hard rod inside of me. "Please, Nate. Now. I want it like...." I swallowed, trying to tamp down just a tiny shred of self-consciousness. "I want it a little rough. I want you to show me what an alpha you are."
Needing no further invitation, he moved a hand from my hips and positioned the beefy head of his manhood at my slick opening, his deep blue eyes glassy with desire. Whimpering, I lifted my hips just a degree, eager to take him. He slid into me with one long, powerful, fast thrust that made me gasp at the sensation of being so quickly and completely filled. I threw my head back into the mattress, spreading my legs a little wider, eager to take every last millimeter of his considerable length.
Gripping my hips in his strong hands, he began thrusting with fast, powerful movements, making me moan. He began making a few noises of his own, grunts punctuated by periodic groans. He put my legs up on his muscular shoulders, increasing the depth of his penetration. Not long after that, my pleasure finally peaked. I ground my head into the mattress, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. Nearly simultaneously, Nate shuddered with release as well, his own cry of passion rising above mine.
We fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, naked, and I didn't have any more nightmares.
The next couple of days went by uneventfully. The police didn't catch James Foster, but Nate hired a twenty-four-hour security team, as well as a team of bodyguards, each of them assigned to different days, that would follow me around whenever I went out. He also had a state-of-the-art alarm system installed in our apartment. All in all, I felt fairly safe. Not anywhere near completely yet, but that was fine. Fairly seemed pretty good to me after what I'd been through.
Then it all came crashing down.
Wednesday morning, I held an employee meeting at my candle store and then supervised some inventory-taking before meeting Tamara for lunch and some shopping. Late in the afternoon, she and I had just finished our shopping, mostly for baby clothes for her new arrival. We were enjoying vanilla cappuccinos at a mid-town coffee shop. I'd only taken two sips of mine when I saw him. James Foster. The man who'd tried to kidnap me. I saw him clear as day. Or, at least a man who I thought was him. A man who looked remarkably like him. The same height and build, the same facial features, and the same glittering eyes.
He was at the counter, ordering. Tamara and I were at one of a dozen or so small, circular tables scattered throughout the coffee shop. My bodyguard, whose name was Tom, was fifteen or twenty feet away, drinking a cup of coffee while seated at one of three couches surrounding a crackling electric fireplace. He had a view of the entrance to the coffee shop. He had been shown a police photo of James Foster. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he wasn't attempting to apprehend him, or at least whisk me away to protect me. In fact, he looked fairly serene, leisurely scanning the cafe while sipping his coffee.
I wasn't sure what to do. I knew that motioning him might also attract the attention of Foster. That is, if James was even unaware that I was present. I knew it was entirely possible that he’d been following my movements and was going to attempt to kidnap me again. Right there in the coffee shop. Maybe he didn't know I had a bodyguard. Tom had been following Tamara and me at a bit of a distance all afternoon. I had asked him to do that so Tamara and I could have a little privacy to talk and shop.
Or, I thought, maybe James had a gun and was planning to shoot Tom and then abduct me. Maybe even shoot all of the dozen or so other patrons in the coffee shop, including Tamara, and then abduct me. The possibilities were almost too horrendous to think about and spun wildly through my mind. My hands began trembling.
Frowning, Tamara asked, “You okay? You look really upset or something all of a sudden."
I moved my head in the slightest of movements, angling it toward the ordering counter of the coffee shop. "He's here. James Foster. The man who tried to abduct me. He's paying at the cash register right this second. Look but don't be obvious."
With her cafe au lait-colored complexion becoming a decided shade milkier, she slowly and casually turned her head a few degrees, took a quick peek at the cash register counter, and then turned back to me. "Are you positive it's him?"
I wasn't, at least not a hundred percent. But at least ninety-nine-point-nine percent. I moved my head in the slightest of nods. "I can't say for sure for sure, but I'm pretty positive.
"Okay. Just stay calm. We've got your bodyguard with us."
"I don't know how to get his attention, though, without attracting other attention."
Suddenly, it came to me. I pulled my phone from my bag with shaking fingers and sent Tom a text, wondering why I hadn't thought of that sooner. Though I could hardly blame myself, scared and rattled as I was.
He looked at the text immediately and then replied immediately as well, telling me to stay calm and cool. Which I thought was easy for him to say. He stood and began making his way over to the cash register counter, his steps slow and unhurried, at the exact moment that the man I was nearly positive was James Foster turned from the counter and began heading over to the seating area, his steps equally as slow and unhurried. Several seconds that felt like hours ticked by before they crossed paths, and Tom, who was an off-duty New York City police officer providing private security on his days off, told the man I was nearly certain was James to hold up.
The two of them were only about ten feet away from Tamara and me. My heart began hammering in my ears.
The man stopped, and Tom looked at him calmly, actually almost appearing bored.
"James Foster?"
The man frowned, his expression one of confusion and his brown eyes darkening. "No. Sorry."
That’s when I knew I'd been mistaken. Terribly mistaken. James Foster's eyes were green. Now that I was seeing this coffee shop patron closer, I realized he didn't look quite as much like James as I first thought. Before I could react or do anything, Tom flashed his badge and asked if the man would mind showing ID. The man said he didn't at all, fished around in his pocket, and pulled out a driver's license.
Tom glanced at it and gave the man a little smile. "Sorry. Case of mistaken identity. Have a good day."
I stood and began dashing out of the coffee shop, absolutely mortified, with Tamara and Tom on my heels. When the three of us were outside, I slumped against a brick wall, breathing a sigh of relief even as my face flamed with embarrassment.
I told Tom I was so sorry about what had just happened. "I feel like an absolute idiot."
He shrugged, his mouth curving in the slightest of smiles. "Please don't. You were right to alert me. This happens to most people who hire security, by the way. Everyone trying to avoid an attacker has at least one or two false sightings in the beginning. It's normal."
I nodded, feeling a tiny bit better, and then asked him if he wouldn't mind stepping down to the end of the brick wall for a minute so I could talk to Tamara in private. He said no problem and began strolling away. I turned to Tamara.
"This may be the end of me and Nate because I can't live in this city a day longer. It's too dangerous. Even if James Foster is caught, there's still too many around here like him. I'm not safe here. I can't relax here. I have to move somewhere safer. I have to be somewhere I can breathe. If Nate doesn't agree to a move this time...we might be over."
Chapter16
The moment I told Tamara that Nate and I might be over if he didn't agree to move to the safety of The Hamptons, I regretted it. It wasn't true. If he didn't agree to move, I wouldn't break up with him, I would just be very unhappy. But I wouldn't call it quits. Not with the man I loved with every particle of my heart. Not with the man I was going to marry in the spring. Not with the man I was currently trying to have a baby with. I knew better than to think I could quit Nate. I knew better than to think I could ever live without him. But if he still said no to a move out of the city, I wasn't sure how I was ever going to live with my current level of anxiety about James Foster and other criminals in the city who might try to kidnap me and ransom me for a chunk of Nate's billions.
That evening, I made his favorite meal, lasagna, and tried to act as normal and not anxious as possible while we ate. I knew he'd had a long day at work, meeting with various partners of his internet company. Upon arriving home, he said he was starving. I didn't want him to contemplate a move on an empty stomach.
In spite of my efforts, when we finished eating, he set his napkin on the table and took a sip of wine, studying me. “What’s wrong?”
I sighed, dreading the conversation that was about to take place but knowing I couldn't avoid it. I didn't want to spend another single day in the city.
After I'd told him about my experience at the coffee shop and my feelings of anxiety and feeling unsafe, I paused and took a deep breath. "So, I want to ask you again, will you please consider moving to The Hamptons? Will you do it so that I can feel safer? I know much your new company means to you, and I know how hands-on you like to be, and I know commuting into the city for both of our jobs will be difficult, but I think we can do it. In fact, with a little help from telecommuting and the internet, I know we can do it. We can do something like a 'reverse weekend.' Live in The Hamptons full-time but come into the city to stay for two days a week, like maybe Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Or whatever two days you'd want. I can check in with Tamara and the baby then too. And then we can go back to the safety of The Hamptons, where maybe I can relax a little without looking over my shoulder all the time.
After today, I know from now one I will base my whole life on whether James Foster is caught or not. There are too many others like him, too many criminals that can blend in here in the city. Whereas, in The Hamptons, people are far more alert to strangers or anyone looking suspicious, which is one of the reasons it's so much safer." I paused again and took another deep breath. "So, will you say yes? Will you at least consider it? Can we move?"
Nate frowned, casting his gaze down at the table briefly before lifting it back to my face, his deep blue eyes troubled. "I've had an eleven-thousand-dollar security system installed. I've hired security guards to monitor the front door of our apartment twenty-four-hours-a-day. I've hired a team of bodyguards to protect you each and every time you step foot outside." He sighed, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair. "I mean...what more do you want me to do?"
––––––––
Suddenly a little bit angry, I sat up straighter in my chair. "I just told you. I asked you to consider us moving."
"But with all the bodyguards and security personnel-"
"Which I appreciate. I appreciate you hiring them and having the new security system installed. But it doesn't matter if I'm safe in actuality, it matters that I feel safe. And I don't. And I never will in this city."
"But it hasn't even been a week since it happened. I think that in time-"
"I think that in time, things are only going to get worse."
"You don't know that. You can't possibly."
"We're trying to get pregnant, Nate. How do you think all this stress and anxiety is helping? As if we aren't already facing enough of a challenge with me being thirty-seven, and your possible low sperm count, it's a scientifically proven fact that anxiety and stress can affect a woman's ability to conceive. So, if we stay here in the city, we might just be kissing our chance at natural parenthood goodbye."
He suddenly stood, pushed in his chair, and began heading out of the kitchen. "I'm going out."
I sprang up from my chair, asking him to wait. "What do you mean? Why won't you discuss this?"
He stopped at the threshold of the expansive, gray marble-floored kitchen and turned to look at me. "I don't want to get angry at you or shout. I need a little time to think. Will you give me that?"
I nodded mutely and sat back down. "Okay."
"I'll be back in an hour or two."
Without another word, or even a backward glance at me, he strode down the hallway and left the apartment.
Feeling suddenly and thoroughly drained, I sat at the kitchen table for ten minutes, just picking at the last few bites of lasagna and bread on my plate. But eventually, when I regained a little strength, I got up and cleared the dishes away, washed them by hand, and cleaned up the kitchen, just for something to do to pass the time until Nate returned. Returned with whatever answer he was going to give me. With whatever answer I was going to have to accept and live with. There was no way I could lose him.
Once the kitchen was virtually spotless, I tried to do a little online work involving wedding planning. I was trying to pick a venue for the wedding, which was something that urgently needed to be done, but I found I couldn't really get into it and eventually shut my laptop. Thinking maybe I needed to talk things out with Tamara, I called her up and told her about Nate's and my conversation. She asked what I thought he'd say when he returned and I said I had no idea I didn't. I didn't have a clue.
"I guess I could see him saying, fine, we'll move, but I can also see him saying no, and asking me to just give this all some time. But either way, one of us is going to be unhappy. I know he would hate to leave the city and his new company, but I don't think any more than I would hate to stay here. And...." I paused, sighing. "And I know this is asking a lot of Nate. Especially considering the sacrifices he's already made for me. First, he agreed to settle down and have a baby with me, even though a family wasn't in his immediate plans when he first met me. He was thinking a family wouldn't be in his plans until maybe forty, not twenty-six. Then, he gave up that billion-dollar business deal with that nasty Samantha Hadfield just to defend my honor."
I paused again, leaning over the kitchen sink. "Sorry. I know you already know this. I'm just thinking out loud. And now that I am really thinking about all this...I guess I'm kind of starting to feel bad. I've asked Nate to do so much already." I fell silent for a long moment, studying my light pink-manicured nails in the glow from track lighting that ran around nearly the whole kitchen. "But then again, what happened with me almost being kidnapped was pretty serious. No matter how many security guards Nate hires, I just do not feel safe here in the city anymore. I'm not asking him to move hundreds and hundreds of miles outside of New York and I'm not asking him to give up his new company. I'm just asking that we move somewhere safer. Somewhere with a lower concentration of criminals than New York City. Somewhere where it might be easier for us to have some privacy and stay off the radar of the bad guys. That's all I'm asking, and it doesn't seem like such a tall order, especially since we're trying for a baby. You know?"
"Yeah."
"Especially because of that. Which, it's funny how I just mentioned that Nate wasn't really thinking family plans when we first met, because now that he's had some time to let the idea settle, he seems just as excited about the possibility of a baby as I am. Asking me if I like particular baby names a couple of times now, just out of the blue. And a couple of weeks ago, I caught him kind of dreamily staring at a set of twin babies, a boy and a girl, at this sandwich place we went to for lunch. He said, 'They're cute, but our babies will be even cuter.' I mean...clearly, he's warmed to the idea of a family. And it's other little comments he's made lately. He now seems to want me to get pregnant just as much as I want to get pregnant. So, all that's good; all that's resolved, and we're on the same page about building a family. But then, why wouldn't he jump at the chance to move to a safer environment? Why wouldn't he want to move us to one of the safest possible places in the world? One that might put my anxieties to rest so that I have a better chance of getting pregnant in the first place. I told him all about how worry and stress can impair a woman's ability to conceive. Because, you know, we're not having a hard enough time already."
Just then, I heard Nate call out from the direction of the front door that he was home. He'd been doing that since my attempted kidnapping, just because I'd been so jumpy, He was afraid of coming in the house and startling me, especially in the kitchen. I appreciated it and was a reminder of all the little things he did for me. It had taken me two whole days after my attempted kidnapping to even enter the kitchen again and I still wouldn't go near the pantry where Foster had been hiding. Yet another reason for me and Nate to move.
I told Tamara that he was home and I had to go, and then I hung up and called out to Nate. “I’m in the kitchen!”
Soon he came into the kitchen holding a bouquet of roses, half of them pink, and half of them red, my favorite arrangement. "You have no idea how hard it is to come up with a dozen roses at ten o' clock on a Wednesday night. Darn near impossible."
I stared at him uncomprehendingly, trying to puzzle out why he'd bring me flowers or what the gesture meant. After a second or two, I decided to just come right out and ask him. "What does this mean?"
Seeming to be fighting a smile, he extended the bouquet. "It means your fiancé loves you more than anything on earth. Now, aren't you going to take them?"
I took them and gave them a sniff, fighting a smile myself and daring to hope that maybe he'd decided a move was for the best. "They're beautiful. Thank you. "
He gave me a hint of a little crooked half-grin he sometimes gave me that I loved. "You're welcome. Do I get a kiss or a hug for them? To be honest, I'm hoping for both, but I'll take whatever I can get." I suddenly set the roses on the counter, threw myself into his arms, and wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his broad chest. "I love you, Nate. I love you, I love you, I love you. Nothing can ever change that."
Tightening his strong arms around me, he planted a few slow kisses on the top of my head. "Needless to say, I feel the exact same way. I think on some subconscious level, I knew you were the love of my life the very first day we met. The past few months, I've been absolutely certain of it. I know I could never love another woman the way I love you. I know I could never love another woman so strongly. You're absolutely, unequivocally, the love of my life, Justine. My soul mate. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel secure and safe. Absolutely anything. I'm sorry if I seemed angry before; I didn't mean to. I guess I just needed some time to take a little walk and reflect on my love for you and how you're my everything. And so I did. And...well, you can probably figure out the direction of my thoughts now."
I lifted my face from his chest, wondering if he was hinting at what I thought he was. "Are you...are you saying what I think you're saying?"
He cracked a grin, making his deep blue eyes twinkle. "You've got me wrapped around your little finger. So tightly I'm not sure I'll ever become unwound. Not that I ever want to be."
"So...so you're saying yes? You're saying that we can move to The Hamptons?"
He grinned again. "Yes. Yes, we can move, if that will make you feel safer and more secure. We can leave all the criminals in this city behind. Because like I said, I'm willing to do absolutely anything for you. As it turns out, that includes moving. I just want you to be happy and feel at ease in your own home. I also want us to have the best chance at getting pregnant. So yes. Let's move to The Hamptons. We'll both commute back here and stay two days a week for work, and the other days we'll just have to become adept at staying on top of things with video conferences with our employees and things like that. I don't think all this is going to be an easy change, but I think we can make it work. We will make it work, to help you feel safe and happy. We can leave as soon as you'd like. I've heard that the house we rented for those few weeks during the summer is now on the market for sale, and if you like that one, we can buy it tomorrow."
The house he'd mentioned was really more of a mansion than a house, but a cozy sort of one, if a mansion could ever be described as cozy. But it was. The oak paneling and hardwood flooring throughout most of it wasn't dark or blonde; it was just medium, with a sunny hue. It was warm. The same vibe was given off by the many rustic, country-style furnishings in the mansion, which I hoped would come with a sale. I absolutely wanted to buy the property; I couldn't wait.
I threw my arms around Nate and buried my face in his chest again, suddenly sniffling a little. "Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this."
He kissed the top of my head once more. "My heart's desire is to make you happy. So there's no need to thank me for doing something to make that happen."
He purchased the mansion the next day. The following week or so was a flurry of moving busy-ness and activity. The day that we officially moved in, that evening actually, we finally took some time to relax and enjoy our new home. It began with a nice, long dinner with a bottle of wine then somehow led to both of us losing all our clothes, right there in the kitchen. That was the beginning of something so sexually exciting, I'd never imagined it, even in my wildest dreams.
Chapter17
Nate and I stood embracing and kissing in the very spacious kitchen of our new mansion in The Hamptons. We were both completely naked and a little tipsy; we'd split a bottle of wine with dinner, and Nate had enjoyed some whiskey, neat, before dinner, too. Added to the alcohol, we both seemed to be a little high on the move into our new beautiful mansion. I was simply relishing just being out of the city. I did feel safer. At least a little. I felt my anxiety lessening. A sense of profound happiness was beginning to take over. The day I'd nearly been abducted by James Foster in Nate's Manhattan apartment was beginning to seem like a distant memory. Though just the same, Nate still retained security personnel to guard our new home twenty-four hours a day. At any given time, there would be no fewer than three guards patrolling our estate, two near the house, more or less circling it, and another posted more towards the woodland areas that bordered our long driveway and property. Nate also had the mansion outfitted with an electronic security system just as state-of-the-art as the one installed back in the apartment
All of this, combined with the fresh start of the move, had made me feel like a whole new woman. A very happy new woman. And it might have contributed to me standing in my new kitchen naked, while Nate, also naked, caressed my bare bottom and whispered near my ear
"Do you know what they say about new houses?"
I moved my head in a slight shake. "No. What do they say about new houses?"
He moved even closer to me, pressing his erection into the soft curve of my belly. "They say that each room should get a sort of housewarming. Each room should get a christening. You do that by making a good memory in each room. Good, sexy memories are considered the very best kind of housewarming memories."
"Oh, really?"
"Really."
He cupped my butt and pulled me even tighter against his rock-hard member, making me whimper with desire. I was already slick and wet—so s slick and wet, I could feel it dampening my inner thighs.
He spoke near my ear, his voice low and husky. "So, what do you say we christen this kitchen? What do you say we make a sexy memory in this room? Though of course, we've had a long day of moving and putting things away, so if you're too tired for any kitchen christening, I certainly understand." He moved a hand to my womanhood, slid a finger between my feminine lips, and began stroking the aching, throbbing bud between them, making me moan again. "We can always try this christening again another night, when we're less tired.
"No! I mean...no! Don't you dare stop, Nate."
––––––––
I'd developed an ache low in my belly while we'd been undressing each other, and now, the feel of his finger on my most sensitive spot was making me absolutely desperate for release.
"Don't you even dare think about stopping. We christen this kitchen right this second."
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he slid two fingers inside of me and began slowly moving them in an out.
"Oh, all right. But we christen this kitchen my way."
I struggled to form words, squirming at the exquisite agony, ecstasy, and urgent desire his fingers were causing. "Okay...fine. What's your way?"
"We christen this kitchen with you on a pedestal, somewhat literally, because that's where you deserve to be. You're a queen." He lowered his already-low, husky voice even further. "I want to set you on top of the island and pleasure you with my mouth. And then, if you are ready for more, I want to make love to you. Are you up for that?"
I was only a thousand, million percent up for that. But I couldn't even talk anymore. I could only nod, writhing against his long, strong fingers, which he was still sliding in and out of me, brushing them against my most sensitive spot while he did so. With a little agonized whimpering from me, he withdrew them after a few more strokes, led me to the enormous, oak-topped island in the center of the kitchen, and then lifted me up and onto it, telling me he'd be right back. I couldn't imagine where he could possibly be going, and I managed a whisper, telling him to please hurry. With his deep blue eyes gleaming in the light from a Tiffany lamp above the kitchen table, he went over to the refrigerator, rummaged around a few seconds, and then came back to the island with a can of aerosol whipped cream. I didn’t know we had any in the house. Nate had been the one to do a grocery store run this afternoon.
He gave me a devilish half-grin. "This wasn't on the list, but I thought we might enjoy it just the same. And, yeah...it's kind of a cliché, but we've never tried it before, so maybe it's time for us to see what all the fuss is about."
I didn't give a rat's tail if it was a cliché or not. Just the thought of being sprawled back on an island in a kitchen while Nate covered my most intimate areas with whipped cream and licked it off was almost more exciting than I could handle.
More than eager for him to start, I leaned back on my elbows. "I guess I'm a little curious to see what all the fuss is about, too."
With a chuckle, he grabbed a couple of clean, folded dish towels from a counter top, rolled them up, and placed the makeshift pillow behind my head before guiding me to lie all the way back. "Not as curious as I am, you gorgeous, luscious, naughty little thing."
Although I always appreciated his compliments, whether they were accurate or not, I knew for sure that he wasn't quite correct in referring to me as little. And I wasn't exactly huge, either, but I was definitely curvy, and my curves were definitely ample. I knew some men didn't prefer this type of figure, but to my complete delight, Nate seemed to not only prefer it, but revel in it. He'd said on more than one occasion that he couldn't get enough of my "sexy curves."
I'd thought he would cover my lower parts with whipped cream first, but instead, he started a little higher up and covered my nipples. I moaned, arching my back, while he licked it off, the action stiffening my nipples to tight, achy peaks. He moved lower, squirting a dollop of whipped cream on my lower belly. His tongue removed it slowly, increasing my anticipation. Just when I thought I couldn't wait a moment longer, he gave the can a few good shakes, positioned the nozzle just above my womanhood, and then covered it with a thick layer of whipped cream. The sensation made me sigh with pleasure. But that was nothing compared to the sensation of the long, slow strokes of his tongue, licking it off like ice cream from a cone. I cried out, pressing my head back into my towel-pillow and raking my nails across the surface of the island.
As he intently stroked my most sensitive spot with his tongue, I felt the need to move my fingers from the island-top to tangle them in his thick, dark hair. He responded by hiking my legs up on his shoulders, burying his face even deeper into my femininity, making a few soft groans of what seemed to be pleasure. My pleasure increased ten-fold to know that he was enjoying it as much as I was.
It didn't even take me two minutes to climax, but when I did, it was one of the most intense I’ve experienced in my life. I cried out, practically yelling, while I bucked my hips, grinding my womanhood against Nate's face while he continued raking his tongue across my pulsing feminine bud.
When I at last lowered my hips to the island, I was nearly breathless, though not so breathless that I didn't have enough air left in my lungs to whisper that I wanted him to make love to me. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to climax again so quickly, but I wanted him to have his own orgasm. I knew that feeling him inside of me would feel incredibly good, as it always did, whether I climaxed again or not.
He climbed right up on the island and positioned his lower body between my legs while I guided the head of his stone-hard shaft to my entrance. I noticed he was trembling just slightly, as he sometimes did when extremely, extremely turned on. The knowledge, to my surprise, began my own excitement building once again. With a groan, he slid into me with one exquisitely slow, deep thrust, filling me with every last inch of his long, thick rod. I moaned in response, arching my back while squeezing my eyes shut, losing all reason and thought in the intimate dance of our bodies joining as one.
Making guttural grunts of desire, Nate began thrusting with his lids half-closed over his glassy eyes. I soon wrapped my legs loosely around his slim hips, a movement that made him increase his pace, his grunts turning into an extended series of prolonged moans. Even though I'd thought I wouldn't be able to climax again so soon, it wasn't long before I began aching and throbbing again, begging for release. As if sensing this, Nate began thrusting faster still, and deeper. It wasn't long before we both cried out in unison, our bodies tensing and then shuddering with ecstasy.
We rested on the island, locked in embrace, for a few minutes. They were blissful minutes until I remembered the three security guards patrolling our home. With that came the realization that despite the fact that they were outside, they might still have been able to hear some of Nate's and my cries of passion. I told him this, and he just laughed.
Laughed.
"Well, I doubt they were able to hear anything through the walls and the windows, but even if they did hear a thing or two...well, I hope they consider themselves lucky to have maybe heard a moan or two from the kitchen christening of the century."
A week or so went by. We settled into our new life in The Hamptons. We learned how to telecommute and internet-commute, and we made our first actual commute for two days in the city, and then came back home to our country mansion. I met a few neighbor women who lived nearby, found them nice, interesting, and friendly, and started a book club with them. Nate had their husbands over for an extremely high-stakes billionaire's poker night and also seemed to make a few new friends.
On the negative side, I also got my period, to Nate's and my extreme disappointment. I hadn't gotten pregnant the previous month. Yet again. We resolved to give it one more month before he'd see the fertility specialist about his possible low sperm count, and if the news wasn't good, maybe we'd consider adoption. I wasn’t opposed to adoption at all. The idea of giving an ill-timed or unwanted child a loving home had really grown on me. However, I did want one more month of trying to conceive a baby with Nate.
Though after my period was over and I wanted to start making love again, we somehow started engaging in that activity only every four or five days, which was really unusual for us. We had been busy with work stuff, commuting stuff, and still-getting-settled-in-stuff, I guess, but we had also been kind of snipping and snapping at each other, too. That was really unusual for us. But for the first couple of weeks this went on, I just chalked it up to moving and adjusting stress.
I even asked Nate if anything was wrong, and with a somewhat strained-seeming smile, he said that was all it was. Just moving stress. He apologized for his occasional bouts of shortness, and I did, too, for mine. I also admitted that although I did feel somewhat safer and more secure in The Hamptons, I was really missing Tamara and even certain little things about living in the city, and maybe that was making me have little fits of crabbiness. We both resolved to work on being more patient with each other, and we sealed our resolution with a kiss. But that kiss led to some pretty uninspired lovemaking, and then the same again, but four days later.
Nate and I had used to make love at least once a day, at least when I wasn't on my period, and sometimes even twice a day. I was beginning to feel like there was some odd disconnect growing between us.
A late Thanksgiving had come and gone, and then the first couple of weeks of December passed. A thin layer of snow blanketed the area around our house. The strange disconnect between us continued, and only seemed to grow deeper. It was made all the more glaring by the fact that Christmas was right around the corner, our first Christmas together. It should have been one of the happiest times of the year, especially for a new and madly in love couple like us. But the opposite seemed to be happening. Nate seemed downright melancholy. It was starting to rub off on me. He insisted that moving stress was the cause of his behavior and moods, but I began to strongly suspect there was a little more to it than that. He was very unhappy out in The Hamptons, away from his friends, his new company, and the city, and that maybe he was even regretting his decision to move.
On Christmas Eve, my worries were confirmed. While carrying a few extra holiday decorations from a storage room out to our spacious living room, where we'd set up a tall Christmas tree and decorated it in shades of red, green, and gold, I padded by Nate's home office. I happened to hear a few seconds of him talking on the phone.
He said, "I don't know, Mike. I'm really not happy out here. But I'll do anything for her. Her happiness comes first. Always will."
I stopped dead in my tracks, hidden behind the nearly-shut office door, before continuing on down the hallway. I wasn't an eavesdropper. Besides, I had heard enough. I felt terrible.
But on the other hand, despite Nate's and my disconnect, I was feeling a good deal better on a different level, I felt good about my personal safety and security. Almost immediately after our move, my anxiety about criminals and possible future kidnap attempts had decreased. Not disappeared, as I'd hoped, but my anxiety level was at least manageable, even though the police still hadn't caught Foster. He was still on the run. I still felt somewhat safer, just by having moved to a community where violent crime perpetrated by strangers was almost unheard of.
But how could I let my peace of mind come at the expense of Nate's happiness? How could I let my own sense of security trump the well-being of the man I loved with all my heart and soul?
I fell asleep that night before he came to bed, but I didn't sleep well. I kept waking up every hour or so, realizing that his arms were not around me, and they usually were. Or, at least, they always had been, before we'd moved to The Hamptons. He slept on his side, turned away from me, almost curled up into a ball. Even his posture seemed to reflect the hurt and unhappiness I knew he was feeling.
I awoke for good on Christmas morning while he was still fast asleep. I showered and dressed quickly, then went downstairs and had a cup of coffee with an ache in my chest. This was our first Christmas together. I had imagined Nate and I would be having breakfast together, laughing, kissing and exchanging gifts. We had planned on having a relaxing Christmas day together, just the two of us, because his mom and step-dad were on a cruise, and my aunt and uncle, who were like parents to me, were out of state visiting their son.
I turned my thoughts away from myself when I realized that the three overnight guards were departing and a new team of three was arriving. It struck me how bad it was that they had to work on Christmas and be away from their families, despite the fact that I knew Nate paid triple their usual rate on holidays. I contemplated making some cinnamon rolls and inviting them inside for a while. But then it struck me that it might not be appropriate for me to have three men in the kitchen when Nate wasn't present. I also remembered that they were instructed by the security company to not enter the house on any kind of social visit while on duty. That seemed cruel, since it was December and temperatures had been in the twenties and thirties all month. They were paid extraordinarily well for their service, even aside from the holiday pay, and they did have a small, heated hut-type thing on the property where they took breaks in shifts and could get warmed up and kick back for a bit.
Just the same, I figured I'd spread some Christmas cheer and deliver cinnamon rolls and a thermos of hot coffee to them to enjoy in their hut. I set about baking, and forty-five minutes later, I took a fresh double batch of out of the oven. It was now about a quarter until eight, and to my disappointment, Nate still wasn't awake yet. Normally, he was a fairly early riser. I had no idea what time he'd eventually come up to bed the night before. I realized with a pang that was just how disconnected we'd become the last several weeks.
I still didn't have a clue what to do about it. His happiness was crucially important to me, of course, but I knew that making him happy again would cause me to lose my new tentative sense of safety and security. I just wasn't sure how I could go back to the stress and worry of living in the crime-filled city again. The thought of bringing a child into that environment crippled me with anxiety.
After bundling up in a thick, down-filled coat and knitted navy blue hat, I took coffee, some foam cups, and a covered plate of cinnamon rolls outside and was greeted by one of the security men patrolling near the house. He thanked me heartily and said he'd take them down to the hut for everyone to enjoy on their respective breaks. Once he'd taken off, I lingered around the front of the house, just strolling a little and inhaling the fresh, crisp air. It had snowed a half-inch the night before, covering the tree-dotted landscape with pure, bright white powder that sparkled in the morning sun like diamonds. The sight was absolutely stunning. I couldn’t enjoy it fully without Nate by my side, a fact that intensified the ache in my chest I felt all morning.
Presently, another of the security men came ambling around the side of the house, said Merry Christmas, smiling, and then gazed around at the vast yard and areas of woodland around it, commenting that it was a pretty day for patrolling and thinking.
I said I agreed, almost envying the tranquility of his job, when it occurred to me that I could have the very same thing. There was nothing stopping me from taking a hike around the property to do some thinking, of course. Suddenly, it became crystal clear that was exactly what I needed. I needed a nice, long hike to clear my head and try to come up with some sort of solution or compromise or something regarding the new problems between me and Nate.
I asked the guard if he would mind tailing me from a distance while I took a hike around the property. "And maybe from a fairly lengthy distance, although not incredibly lengthy, if that makes any sense. I guess I sort of just want to be alone for a bit, but...maybe just not so alone that I could be abducted with no one even seeing."
The guard said he understood perfectly and told me to go ahead and set out and go at whatever pace I wanted. He assured me he'd be at a far enough distance to give me a little privacy and a sense of being alone, though not so far that I would be in any kind of danger. I thanked him and set out for a densely forested area to the east of the house. I soon even forgot he was there.
However, it didn't slip my mind that Nate might soon be waking up and wondering where I was. I paused just long enough to pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and shoot him a quick text, saying merry Christmas, and I love you, and I'm going on a little walk with a guard. Be back in a while. I pocketed my phone and resumed my walk with a little lump in my throat. Merry Christmas via text message was not how I had imagined Nate's and my first Christmas together would begin.
I soon reached the forested area and began hiking around inside of it. It turned out to be pretty vast, maybe even a full acre of woods, from what I could sense and from what I had seen heading into it. It must have be pretty familiar terrain to the guards based on the worn path as a result of patrols with their big, heavy boots.
I wandered along the trail, getting completely lost in my thoughts. I was startled back to reality when a loud noise suddenly pierced the near-silence of the forest. I jumped, gasping.
––––––––
Chapter18
The sound was only my cell phone going off. The fact that the noise was familiar hadn't made it any less jarring. I glanced at the screen, saw that it was Tamara, and answered while trying to steady my voice.
We wished each other Merry Christmas, and I tried to sound happy and enthused, but she wasn't fooled.
"And don't say nothing, because I know you better than that. Now, are you alone so that we can talk privately for a bit, or is Nate nearby?"
I sighed. "No, he's actually back at the house. The only person anywhere nearby is a guard trailing me, and he's kind of just a tiny dot between some trees in the distance. I'm taking a hike in a little forest on the property right now. It's really pretty and scenic all dusted with snow, but I'm not enjoying it as much as I should. And probably not as much as I would be if things weren't so messed up with me and Nate."
I hadn't spoken to Tamara at length in a couple of weeks, and she told me to tell her everything that had been going on, and I briefly did. Just giving a quick recap of Nate's and my troubles made me feel physically sick. How had we gotten here? I leaned against a tree for a minute or so while I answered a few questions from Tamara. The sick feeling passed, and I stood up straight and resumed wandering along the snowy forest trail.
Tamara fell silent for a long moment or two before speaking again. "Well...do you want my two cents? And think about this before you answer, because if you say yes, it's going to be truth time. About this whole situation with you and Nate, and trying for a baby, and the city and The Hamptons."
I didn't need to think. I wanted truth time. Even if it was brutal. I needed some advice or tough love or anything that would point me in the direction of what to do.
I told Tamara to go right ahead. "And don't mince words. Gimme the full truth time talk. I need to hear it."
She took a deep breath. "Okay, I guess my truth time talk is kind of a theory about your whole situation, and why you've made the choice, to move. I think it's going to surprise you. And after I say it, you can do whatever you want with my theory. You can take it, leave it, ignore it, let it spur you to action, or not, whatever. If it offends you in any way, we never even have to talk about it again. But I think I'm on to something with my theory. It's been rattling around in my brain for a little while now but I didn't say anything, because I still wasn't sure about it. I guess I felt like it maybe wasn't my place to speculate by saying it out loud.” She took a deep breath. I did too, mentally, with a heavy feeling in my gut.
“And then, these past several weeks, even when I started getting little hints from your texts and things that all wasn't well, I still didn't say it, because I wondered if you'd eventually come to this realization yourself. But...."
I came to a stop, wiped some snow off a tree stump, and sat down. "But I totally haven't. Really. I have no idea what you're about to say, about what your theory is. And now, I'm dying to hear it. So just lay it on me. Please. What is it?"
"Well, okay. It's this. Despite your very real and scary experience, I don't think another potential kidnapping attempt is what you're really afraid of. I don't think that's why you moved. I think you're afraid of becoming a mom."
I couldn't answer right away. "What?"
"Yep. I think on a subconscious level, you're afraid of becoming a mom. This is causing you a lot of anxiety, and maybe has been, ever since you and Nate started trying to get pregnant. You're running away from it at the same time you're running toward it. The attempted kidnapping was just the trigger for it all. It is your mind's excuse to unleash it all and go anxiety-crazy about something, even if that anxiety isn't entirely rational. Because, let's face it. Nate had you two were so guarded up back here in Manhattan...another kidnapping attempt was very, very, very unlikely, Justine. You know this. Same as it's very, very, very unlikely out there in the country. Different crime levels notwithstanding, you're very unlikely to encounter a criminal again, anywhere you live, as long as you still have all these new guards. So why the move? There was no real, practical reason for it, and actually the opposite. It was pretty impractical. But Nate indulged you because he loves you.
I think the move was just a manifestation of some serious subconscious anxieties you have about the thought of becoming a mom. I think you're really unsure about your ability to keep a child safe, which is perfectly normal for a first-time mom, believe me. Believe the lady who's about to keel over from the weight of this baby in her stomach and she's still got another month or so to go.” Tamara laughed and I could picture her with her hand on her stomach.
“I think that for whatever reason, you just haven't been able to express these anxieties; the attempted kidnapping was the trigger; and it all manifested in you desperately wanting to get to the safest place possible, even if it didn't make a ton of sense. You couldn't articulate that you're scared about becoming a mom but you could articulate that you felt scared about staying in the city. That must have seemed like a more acceptable concern to say out loud. You were trying to soothe and alleviate your own fears but about the wrong thing. I don't think the threat of another attempted kidnapping is really your greatest fear, deep in your gut. But you tell me. Is it?"
I couldn't answer, but not because I was thinking things over. I wasn't. I knew with certainty that everything she had said was true. Everything suddenly made sense. I couldn't deny any longer that I was afraid of becoming a mom. I did doubt my ability to keep a child safe. Those thoughts seemed foreign yet very familiar, like they'd been something floating in the back of my mind all along, near but just out of conscious reach. I'd felt at least better in terms of my anxiety level since the move but I certainly didn't feel a hundred percent better. Now I knew why. I hadn't addressed what I was really afraid of. It wasn't another kidnapping attempt, scary though that experience had been.
Tamara let me be silent for several seconds, just letting everything sink in, and then I finally spoke.
"So...so, how do I fix all this? How do I fix Nate's unhappiness and this whole...this whole mess that my subconscious fear created?"
“I can't tell you that. Whether you and Nate decide to stay or move back, that's up to the two of you. But here's one piece of direct advice that I will give. I think that if you're still determined to have a baby, you've got to decide whether you're going to be a scared mom or a brave mom. Here's just a little hint about that - every good mom needs to make a choice to be brave. Take it from me, the lady who's been scared out of her mind half her pregnancy. Take it from the lady having a baby by a sperm donor. Unless Mr. Right suddenly drops down from the sky onto my lap, I'll likely be raising this baby alone. I still feel like I made the right choice to do what I did, because I was running out of time, yet it terrifies me. But I long, long ago, like, two trimesters ago, made a decision to acknowledge that fear and then just move past it as best I can and be brave, because my baby needs me to be, and because I think a good mom should be."
She paused, and with some emotion I couldn't identify rising in my chest, I watched a small, dark bird flit from a low branch on the tree nearest me to a higher one, and then it flew away, soaring into a pure blue sky.
“I realize that when I go into labor, although it's unlikely, it's possible you may not be able to make the two-hour drive to the hospital in time for the birth. My sister may not be able to make it down from upstate in time. It might just be me, my weird doctor, and the new midwife I barely know. That scares me. But I'm going forward, come what may, because I've decided to be brave. And it is a choice, just like choosing to get pregnant or continue with a pregnancy is a choice. If you want to continue on with your plans to become pregnant, I think you've got to search your soul and decide if you're going to be brave, or at least attempt to be, come what may. You've got to decide if you're going to run and retreat when you get scared or stand your ground. You need to make that choice before going forward. And if you can't make that choice, I don't think you should go forward." She paused and took a deep breath. "And that's it. That's my piece. Think about it, forget it, do whatever you want with it, but-"
"Tam?"
She didn't answer right away. "What?"
I suddenly realized that tears were running down my face, and I wiped them away, sniffling, before answering. "I think I'm ready to make a choice. I think I'm ready to be brave. Maybe this choice will never even mean anything; maybe it will never even matter. Because...." I covered my face with my hand briefly while a few sobs lifted my shoulders. "Because maybe I'll never get pregnant. Maybe adoption will never work out. Maybe becoming a mom will never happen for me and I'll never get to show that I can be brave.” I covered my face again while I shuddered with a few more silent sobs. “But maybe it will mean something anyway, just that I made the choice to be a brave mom."
"Justine?"
"What?"
"Shut up."
A waver of emotion in her voice told me her seemingly stern words weren't actually intended to be, and she continued, her voice still wavering a little. “Where there's a will and a brave mom's heart, there's a way. You will be a mom, someday, somehow, now that you've decided to be brave. Now, go find Nate and talk to him. Before you freeze to death out in the forest, and on Christmas day, too."
At the mention of Nate, I sprang up from the tree stump I'd been sitting on, suddenly desperate to see him and talk to him. Desperate to feel his arms around me. Desperate to tell him that I'd decided to be brave.
I told Tamara I had to go, and I thanked her for the talk. "And Merry Christmas!"
I ended the call, jammed the phone in my pocket, and took off down the forest trail at a run, heading toward the house.
My security guard, who'd been sitting on a stump a fairly good distance away from me, out of earshot probably, though not out of sight, flew up from his stump just as fast as I had, asking me if anything was wrong. Without slowing down, I shook my head at him. I sprinted right past him, tennis shoes crunching in the snow, and called out over my shoulder.
"Everything's fine! Everything's looking up, actually! Just gotta get back to the house!"
Even though I was carrying some extra pounds and I wasn't in the world's absolute greatest shape, I still ran the entire distance back to the house. At least the entire distance minus the last fifty feet or so. I had to stop, suddenly and inexplicably extremely nauseous. I vomited in the snow.
Chapter19
The security guard who'd been trailing me came to a stop behind me, asking me if there was anything he could do.
"Should I get your fiancé?"
I had been standing kind of crouched, hands on knees, while I vomited my coffee from earlier that morning. Spitting into the snow and wiping my mouth, I stood and faced the guard. "Sorry you had to see that. And no...no need to get Nate. I'm fine. This happened to me once in junior high...getting sick after running full-out on an empty stomach. You'd think I would've learned my lesson. But, no...I guess not. Sorry again you had to see that."
He said it was no problem at all and then asked if I was okay on my own now. I said yes and thanked him for accompanying me on my hike, and then we both wished each other a Merry Christmas. He then left to resume his patrol around the house.. I was faced with the realization that I still desperately wanted to see Nate, but not without a clean, sanitized mouth and minty-fresh breath. I knew he would be waiting for me in the kitchen. I wanted to talk to him right away and not have to pause things to go upstairs to grab my toothbrush.
I rifled around in my coat pockets, praying that one of them still held a tiny trial-size bottle of mouthwash I'd stuck in there once for some reason, along with a mini fold-up toothbrush, and one of the pockets still did. I unscrewed the cap of the mouthwash, thanking my lucky stars.
"Merry Christmas to me."
I took a swig, swished it around a little, spit, then brushed with the toothbrush as best I could. I repeated the process several more times until the entire trial-sized bottle of mouthwash was gone. I figured that was probably fresh enough.
I stuck the mini toothbrush and mouthwash bottle back in my pocket, and just then, Nate opened the front door of the house and called my name.
"What are you doing out here? Are you okay? I got your text that you-"
"Stay right there! I'm flying into your arms!"
I took off at a jog, which I knew wasn't exactly flying, but I didn't want to sprint too fast and get sick again. Nate smiled at me, his deep blue eyes twinkling, while I headed toward him.
When I reached him in the doorway, he took me in his arms and pulled me into the house, planting kisses all over the side of my face. "Merry Christmas."
I smiled and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. "Merry Christmas. And guess what? It's a long story how I came to this realization, but it involves a long hike, and a phone call from Tamara, and anyway, I've realized something.” I paused, trying to organize the words that wanted to come jumbling out of my mouth. “I've realized that it's not necessarily another potential kidnapping I'm afraid of.”
Nate raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes.
“I’m afraid of becoming a mom. I still want that more than anything else in the world, but deep down I've been afraid that I won't be able to keep a baby safe and take care of it. That could be because I've never had a baby before, and I never even had any younger siblings. I never even babysat when I was younger. So, I guess I've had some subconscious fears. When I almost got kidnapped, it just triggered everything somehow. It made me want to move out of the city and retreat to a place of safety. But now, I'm done retreating. I've decided to be brave. That doesn't mean I'll never have fears and anxieties again, because I'm sure I will, but now, I'm going to stand my ground. I'm not going to run away. I'll try to work through everything, as best I can. And maybe we can work through things together, as a team. Because, Nate...."
I pulled away from him a little to see his face better, and I took his hands. He gave mine a squeeze, and I continued.
"I love you more than anything, and I just want you to be as happy as you've made me. You've made so many sacrifices for me. I thought about all that the whole time I was running back to the house, here...how many sacrifices you've made, just for my happiness. Just because you love me so much. I want to return that love. I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy together. I want us to move back to the city. I know I'll be fine now. If I start to get anxious again, I'm just going to be brave, and stand my ground, and talk things over with my teammate." I paused and took a deep breath. "So what do you say? Are you ready to move back? Are you ready to have this house be just our summer house and maybe a holiday house?"
Nate looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read, but his eyes were slightly pink and shiny.
Then he smiled, his expression becoming one of complete tenderness. "I think this is the best Christmas present I've ever received."
I smiled, my heart soaring. "Good. Somehow, Santa knew just what you wanted."
He pulled me close, wrapping me in his strong arms. "Oh, yeah? Well, here's another thing I want. Your heart and your love, for the rest of our lives. That's the most important thing in the world to me."
After a little more talking, kissing, and hugging, I made a Christmas brunch for us. I whipped up deluxe omelets with ham, brie, and vegetables; a citrus salad with peeled slices of ruby red grapefruit, tangerines, and oranges in a tangy, lemony glaze; thick-cut, hickory-smoked, crispy bacon; and a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. While I cooked, Nate got some logs from outside, made a fire in the living room fireplace, and put on some Christmas music after asking me what my favorite Christmas songs were. We ate our brunch sitting on a plush, cream-colored rug in front of our red, green, and gold-decorated Christmas tree, twinkling with white lights. A light snowfall began just outside tall windows that reached almost to the top of the vaulted ceiling, making the country landscape look like something from an old-fashioned Christmas card. The fire popped and crackled, filling the spacious-yet-cozy room with warmth.
Not long after we'd finished eating, my phone rang with a number I didn't recognize. I took a final sip of my coffee and then answered, curious who it was, and a man identified himself as being a detective with the Manhattan police. He asked if I was Justine Marlowe, and I said yes, and he continued.
"I'm sorry to disturb you on a holiday, ma'am, if I am, but I have some urgent information to share. It's about James Foster."
My empty mug fell from my hand onto the plush rug with a thunk.
––––––––
Chapter20
While Nate looked at me, his handsome, strong-jawed face a mask of worry and concern, I gripped my phone and struggled to find my voice.
"Yes, detective? What do you have to tell me about James Foster?"
"It's good news. We apprehended him earlier today while he was trying to rob a bank. With his priors, he'll be going away to prison for a long time. We just thought you might like to hear this as soon as possible, to put your mind at ease."
I exhaled in a rush. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much, detective."
I soon hung up and told Nate the news. He seemed just as relieved as I was, and we celebrated with a slow dance to an old Christmas tune, holding each other close.
Not long after, both of our phones began ringing with holiday calls from friends and family. We both spent a good amount of time chatting and catching up. It was afternoon before both of our phones stopped ringing, and we sat down in front of the Christmas tree again to open presents.
I made Nate open his first. He pulled delicate gold paper off the first edition of a very rare, very old book by one of his favorite authors. It had taken me weeks of searching online and three separate visits to a seller of rare books in Manhattan before I'd finally tracked it down. Nate was absolutely thrilled. He surveyed the book and carefully flipped through the fragile, yellowed pages wearing a huge grin, the sight of it melting my heart.
Next, it was my turn. He presented me with a small box wrapped in silver paper and topped with a shiny red bow. I removed the wrapping, opened the velvet box inside, and gasped. Nestled in the box lay a thick, silver wrist-cuff bracelet split into two gleaming halves divided by a silver hinge. Dozens of white diamonds in intricate swirl designs sparkled on the top half. It was gorgeous. It was stunning. I'd admired it out loud at a very upscale jeweler's weeks before when we'd taken my engagement ring in to get re-sized just slightly. But I hadn't been sure that Nate had heard me, and not wanting to seem greedy or eager for an extravagant present, I didn't repeat myself. But he had been listening. Of course. He was always attentive, always looking for ways to make me happy.
I looked from the bracelet to his face with tears in my eyes. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for this, but...thank you. It's almost too beautiful."
He leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead, smiling. "Nothing is too beautiful for you. Nothing. Now go ahead and take it out of the box. Look on the inside."
I did as he'd said. The inside of the bracelet had been inscribed with the date and the year, marking our first Christmas together.
With a lump in my throat, I ran a finger over the delicately-etched numbers. "Our very first Christmas. And hopefully, the first of many, many more to come."
I studied the date some more, thinking about how I'd never forget this very special holiday as long as I lived.
Suddenly I had a different thought. A very sudden, very surprising thought.
I looked up at Nate. "Wait. Today's the twenty-fifth?"
He cocked a dark eyebrow with his mouth curving in a half-grin. "Well, yes. Christmas does generally fall on the twenty-fifth."
A little thrill of something electric rippled through me I had to remind myself to breathe.
"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I guess with moving, and stress, and our recent troubles, I just haven't been paying attention."
"To what? What are you talking about?" Nate was confused.
I took a deep breath, unable to believe I was actually going to be saying what I was about to say. "I'm a day late. To start my monthly cycle. I'm actually a day late! I've never been late a single day in my life. Early by a day or two, sometimes, maybe once a year or something, but never late. Never, ever late! Oh my gosh." I paused for a moment, thinking.
"Maybe this all makes sense. I felt strangely sick for a few seconds when I was on the phone with Tamara this morning. Just kind of a very intense queasiness, but then it passed right away. Then after my run up to the house, here, I suddenly got sick and lost my coffee. Thoroughly rinsed my mouth with a pocket-sized mouthwash before I kissed you at the door, though, by the way. But I thought I'd gotten sick from running so hard on an empty stomach because that happened to me once before. But maybe that wasn't it this time. Maybe this time, it's because I'm...."
My eyes suddenly filled, and I shook my head, hardly daring to believe what might be happening.
"No. Not even gonna say it. Don't want to jinx us. Because all this might be nothing. And in fact, it probably is. Just some weird signs and symptoms from being stressed out, and the move, and-"
"Do we have any test kits in the house?"
I nodded. "A double pack in the master bathroom. I got it from the drugstore a few weeks ago just on the off-off-chance we'd ever need it out here and couldn't get out to civilization right away."
Nate took my hands with his eyes sparkling. "Let's take a test. Let's take one right now. Lately we've been so worried about your ability to conceive and my possible low sperm count that we haven't stopped to think that maybe this is really possible. Maybe sometimes people really do get their miracles. It is Christmas, after all." He paused for a long moment, studying me, and then broke into a grin. "Let's go take a test."
A while later, I sat on our bed, trembling while a pregnancy test developed in the bathroom. Nate sat beside me, quiet, holding one of my trembling hands. A timer dinged too soon. I wasn't ready for a negative result. I wasn't ready for my hope to pop like a bubble. Nate asked if I wanted to go look at the test alone first or if we should go look at it together.
I shook my head. "Neither. I want you to go look at it. I just can't. But, just...whether it's bad or good, just come out here and tell me right away. Okay?"
He said that he would, kissed me, and went into the bathroom. And when he emerged not more than ten seconds later, I knew. Instantly. Just by the look on his face.
I covered my mouth and nose with my hands while my shoulders shook with sobs. "Really?"
Nate grinned, his eyes shiny and pink for the second time that day. "Really. It's positive. You're pregnant. We're going to have a baby."
I covered my whole face with my hands and sobbed, tears streaming from my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was in Nate's arms, being held, lifted, and spun around the room. He laughed, kissed my face, and laughed some more, holding me tight. I buried my face in his strong shoulder, shaking my head and laughing a little myself. I was still in disbelief and total shock. Eventually, I told Nate we should take another test, just to be sure, and we did. We erupted in more elation when this one, too, turned positive.
He picked me up and spun me around again, but this time slowly and while doing a bit of sniffling, the first time I had ever heard him do so. But he was remarkably restrained compared to me. I cried for an hour before calling Tamara to tell her the news. And then I started crying again.
That evening, Nate and I enjoyed mugs of warm apple cider on the plush rug in front of the Christmas tree. While he sipped his, he looked thoughtful, and eventually said he wanted to ask me something.
I smiled. "Anything. Ask away."
He smiled in return, but then his expression became serious.
"Well...ever since we got engaged, I've been anxious to marry you. I guess I've never said anything because I know weddings take time to plan and all that, and I want you to have the wedding of your dreams, of course, but...now that we have a baby on the way, I'm even more anxious to marry you. I don't want to go on several more months without being your husband and without you being my wife. So...." He paused, set his mug down, and took a deep breath. "I know we planned on spring. But...would you be able to plan a wedding in a few days? Maybe one for New Year's Eve? Feel free to say no, and I mean that, but nothing would make me happier than to start off the New Year as husband and wife."
I knew that with his billions at our disposal, putting together a wedding on such short notice wouldn't be a problem. Considering the sacrifices he'd made for my happiness over the course of our relationship, I was willing to make one for him, even if it was just a small one, by agreeing to move our wedding date up. I had to admit, I suddenly wanted to be married to him as soon as possible, too.
I smiled, my heart feeling as if it might just soar out of my chest. "Yes. A New Year's wedding. Let's do it. Nothing would make me happier too."
We embraced and began kissing, and soon, as was fairly typical of us, we found ourselves without clothes. Nate pulled the cream-colored plush rug from the Christmas tree to a little closer to the fireplace, and we made love in the glow from the crackling fire and the white lights on the tree.
Afterward, we dozed off, our limbs and fingers entwined. I dreamed about holding a dark-haired baby, a boy or a girl, I wasn't sure. But it was a cute baby. It was absolutely adorable in fact. I held it with arms strong and sure, feeling maybe just a little, tiny bit scared, maybe just a smidgen uncertain, but more than anything else, confident and brave.
––––––––
THE END