Page 81 of Stutter

“Dirty Doctor, huh? What am I in your phone?”

Ah, fuck. I show him his contact; it’s a picture of us in Paris under the Eiffel Tower just as the snow started sticking to the ground. He hums in delight when he seesDemigodand smiles widely.

He shows me what mine says and it’s also one word –Wifewith a little raven emoji beside it.

Why does that make me so wet? I clench my thighs together under the table, remembering the way he told my abuelo he wasn’t just a friend but my soon-to-be husband. He keeps asking and I keep saying yes in every way I can. A blow job here, a blow job there, letting him fuck my ass. How many times can a girl say, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you,’while a thick dick stretches apart your insides?

I don’t reallyneeda ring, but it would be nice to have one.

I’m scared I’ll have one of my nighttime episodes while we’re there,I sign honestly.That they’ll try to say I’m unfit and try to send me back to Lorne Wood.

“Then I won’t sleep to make sure if you do, I can wake you... and I’ll never let that happen. I’ll break in and kidnap you.” He grins.

You shouldn’t have to do that.I argue, sighing.You should be able to sleep and not have to watch over me like I’m a baby.

“Maybe I shouldn’thave to,baby, but I will, and I’m going to. It’s an honor and a pleasure. Hey, hey, look at me.”

I do.

“I love you, baby. We always get through everything together, don’t we?”

I nod.

“This isn’t forever. And we all get nightmares. Yours are just a little more… vivid. If I have to hold you a little tighter, so be it.”

I melt and don’t argue. What’s the point? He does what he wants when it comes to protecting me and haven’t I done the same? The man let me put a fucking tracker in him without a question. I finish my tuna tiradito with aji amarillo leche de tigre, and sit back, ready for the next course. He grabs my plate, setting it aside and puts the four-layered caviar dip in front of me.

It’s a good night. It’s been the perfect kind of night; the kind I wish I could have openly with Maverick or Damon without anyone knowing us. But for now, I’m okay with it just being us. I hate that I wasn’t able to show Maverick around my old stomping grounds in Spain, that going to Huelva had taken all of my time, but it felt so good seeing my abuelo again.

We end the evening with a chocolate souffle and by the time we’re back in the car, I’m practicallywaddling with how full I am. I unbutton my jeans as soon as we get into the car and Jonas chuckles, rubbing on my stomach. We fall asleep on the two-hour drive home, me in his arms, and him against the door.

Once we’re in bed, he lays on me, hand curled around my tummy, head on my chest and I scratch his back, letting him fall asleep on me and soon, I’m drifting, thinking of all the ways this could go very right… or very, very wrong.

________

It’s almost dark when we finally reach the Monroe mansion. The three-story, Tudor-style mansion has impeccable landscaping from the front gate to the home itself. I stare at the thing, once large and imposing, remembering the first time we drove through, and it was so dark. Dark shutters, dark siding.

Climbing out of my car, I look at all the changes Sofia has made over the last twelve years. White shutters, pale pink siding, the roof changed to a pale grey, but it’s currently hidden under a blanket of snow. On the outside, it appears to be so light and happy, but the inside is always different, isn’t it? My anxiety skyrockets as we get make our way to the large white front door, large enough to fit a car, probably, always wanted to find out if I’m honest.

I sigh as Jonas knocks, then grabs my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine as Axel opens the door, his smile faltering when he sees Jonas, but he fixes his smile. “Hey Cookie! Hey, man.”

A housemaid I’ve never seen before goes to grab our bags, but Jonas stops them, letting go of my hand to carry the bag the driver put on the ground beside us. She holds out her hands in order to take our coats instead. When I don’t take the first step across the threshold, Jonas does. It feels forbidden to be back here. It feels wrong in so many ways I can’t even explain. Even though it’s warm enough in the house, letting my feet touchthe white and gold marble flooring Sofia had installed after we moved in feels foreboding, and it makes my stomach curl.

Jonas and Axel don’t do that fist bump thing guys do.

He just patiently waits for me to simply drink it in. The staircase that splits to the second level, going in different directions with light oak banisters, the rails painted gold, the wide-open floor plan of the first living area where the party will be held, a stage already set up for a string quartet in the back, of the room where they’ll be playing, tables already covered in red and gold linens, centerpieces made of ornaments, twinkling lights and garland are already set along with plates and dinnerware. The middle of the living room will of course, be the dancefloor but nobody’s danced at one of these fucking things that I could remember.

“Sofia had Galvina set up your room. It’s just like you left it.” Axel says and I turn to face him. Chameleon eyes that change from moss to cerulean, a tide hitting an algae-laden shore, with a flick of his mood or a change of his shirt, they’d switch color. I used to think they were some of the coolest eyes I’d seen, until I peered into silver eyes that gleamed. Until I stared into green-brown hazel eyes that merged with a ring of sunset between them. Until I clashed with eyes so light green they made my heart stop.

“I’ll just be in the theater room. Mom’s still out getting last minute things ready. Something about the parting gifts.”

I lead Jonas up the stairs, past the second floor and going up to the third floor, past Axel’s bedroom, down the hall, and into mine. It smells… sanitized. Like it did when I would visit from Lorne Wood. It doesn’t smell like home anymore. Jonas places our bags gently on the floor and circles his arms around me.

“Don’t over think, baby. It’s almost nighttime. Just thirty more hours and Damon and Mav will be here tomorrow night. Then we’ll be in Vermont, okay? Spending Christmas with my mom, skiing, opening presents…”

He trails off, kisses my temple and I just nod, looking around my room. The first cello my grandfather gave me sits in its stand in a corner of the room. Another one, larger and custom made frommahogany wood so dark it almost looks black in the light, sits beside it.

My desk is clean, the shelves above it still hold old paperback novels I was obsessed with, turning them into my personality while I nursed book-hangovers until I found the next best thing. Heavy, velvet violet drapes hang from the curtain rod, open from where I would sit there for hours watching the snow or rain fall while reading or practicing. My king-size platform bed sits in the middle of the room, the side table behind it is also cluttered with books where I would put them when I was done reading for the night. Jonas sits on my bed, kicking off the boots I got him and lays back, putting his hands behind his head.

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