Cruel Beloved

“What?”

“Us,” I answer truthfully.

“No. It feels like the most natural thing I’ve ever done,” he says it with so much confidence it’s hard not to believe him. I wonder if I will feel the same way some day. His hand touches my face. “It’s fine for you to have doubts. You’d be silly to trust me. And you aren’t a silly girl, just a girl who does things for those she loves.”

“It’s going to take time,” I say, defending myself.

“Time is fine. Time I can give.”

I lean down and kiss him, he takes charge and wraps me in his arms as my body falls onto him. Soon we become all hands and mouths, touching and kissing everywhere. My pants end up on the floor, and so do his.

I push him down and climb onto his lap. “Time is all I can give,” I say as I lower myself onto him. My head drops back, and his hands grab each breast, gently squeezing them, pinching the nipple before I start to move.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

There is that word again—not once have I felt ugly around him. He always tells me how beautiful I am, and it just eggs me on even more as I move my hips back and forth, my clit rubbing with the friction.

Whiskey slaps my ass and grips my hip, helping me move even faster. I lean forward, our lips smashing together, while my hips don’t stop moving. They can’t stop moving because I can feel it coming. I can feel that any second he is about to take me to heaven, but this time when I come back, I won’t be falling down to hell.

No, this time, I’m sure he will catch me.

We spend one more day in France before we head home. I slept the whole plane ride home, and he didn’t even proposition me for the Mile-High Club. Even though I would have loved it too. When we arrive home, my father is standing at our door. Whiskey asked that I move into the apartment with him, but we popped past the house to see if there’s anything we need. My father stands from sitting on a step as my mother hovers around him. My mother turns to face me. Her nose turns up in disgust at Whiskey holding my hip protectively.

“You’re still with him? Even after what he did?” she asks.

For a change, my father doesn’t interject.

“You’re still with him even though he had a kid with someone else?”

She gasps at my words. “That is irrelevant. This…” she waves between Whiskey and me, “… is wrong. And he will only use you.”

I’ve definitely thought of that, but hearing it come out of her mouth doesn’t make me feel any better either. However, Mother doesn’t know him like I do.

“Let’s hope you are wrong, Mother,” I say, walking up to them.

When I stand in front of them, I look at my father who still hasn’t said a word. “Why are you here?”

“You weren’t answering. We were worried and took a chance you might be here,” my father finally says.

“Now you’re worried? Or are you here to see what else you can get out of Whiskey for your…” I use air quotes, “… charities,” I say, dropping my hands.

“No. I want nothing from him,” he says, eyeing Whiskey then looking back to me. “Apart from you getting as far away from him as possible.”

“He loves me, do you know that?” I ask both of them. My hand covers my mouth as I feel my sickness coming on again. It takes no prisoners and comes on at any time during the day. Who on earth called it morning sickness? It should be all day sickness.

“See, he makes you sick, even your body is telling you that.”

Whiskey steps forward and starts rubbing my back. He’s booked me in to see the doctor tomorrow, and I’m hoping the doctor can give me something for this. When the wave passes, I stand back up and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Whiskey hands me a bottle of water and I take it greedily.

“Oh my God.” My mother’s hand flies to her mouth, and my father looks at her, confused. I know she’s just figured it out by the look in her eyes.

“You should leave. Carla needs to rest.”

My father looks to him with hard eyes.

“You’re pregnant?” my mother asks.

I neither confirm nor deny.

My father looks between Whiskey and me, confused. “You slept with him even knowing he taped and blackmailed you?” he asks, confusion knitting his brows.

“Yes.” I know it sounds dumb. But he’s a weakness of mine. And a man I am falling in love with. Hard and fast.

“Did you intend to tell me?” my mother asks, her hands going to her hips.

“Yes, after the doctor visit tomorrow,” I say.