Page 44 of Storm in a D Cup

Later, much later that evening, Julian made his return to our bedroom. Which was a big thing, considering I thought he would sleep in the guest room. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time and once again because of an Italian man. Instead, he crawled into bed and lay next to me in silence, as if waiting for me to say something. Well, he’d have a long wait. Even if I was wrong, I rarely admitted it these days. If he wanted to suspend the hostilities, then he would have to be the greater man and talk to me.

But after several minutes had passed and still not a word, I turned my head toward him. He was sweating and breathing shallowly. He didn’t look good at all. I whipped to my knees.

‘Julian? What’s wrong?’

Silence.

‘Julian, are you OK?’

He finally groaned, ever so softly.

‘Talk to me? What happened?’

‘I went for a ride on the new stallion…’

‘Oh my God, did you fall?’

‘No… didn’t use a saddle…’ he rasped. ‘I’m bruised… down there…’

‘You wenthorseriding without a saddle? What are you trying to do, play Tarzan?’ I ran into the bathroom, giggling hysterically now, happy he hadn’t fallen off and broken his neck, and also relieved that we had breached the wall of silence. I returned with a cold washcloth.

‘Here, let me have a look,’ I whispered, and he winced.

‘It’s not a pretty sight,’ he warned me.

I looked up at his face. ‘Trust me, it never was.’

Despite the pain, he chuckled, then coughed and winced, all in one breath.

‘It serves you right,’ I whispered as I laid the cloth on him and ran downstairs to get some ice, an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne, which I hid under the bed. With a relationship like ours, you never knew how the evening might develop.

‘How could you be so stupid to ride off without a saddle?’ I asked as I wrapped the ice in a washcloth and placed it on his disaster area.

‘I was – ow, ow, ow… angry.’

‘Yes, you made that quite clear, thank you.’

I wiped his sweaty forehead and dried his damp hair, and when he turned his head, our eyes met. ‘I’m sorry to have been such a jealous wanker,’ he moaned. ‘I should’ve known better.’

‘I’m sorry, too.’

And we lay there for a long, long while as out in the night the crickets creaked and chirped their evening song, Julian’s arms around me. I snuggled up to his chest, my favorite place in the world. Here I was safe. Here anything would be OK. Here there would always be understanding and forgiveness.

‘Julian?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I have to tell you something.’

‘What’s that, sweetheart?’

OK, deep breath now. ‘IVF? It tanked again.’

He twisted to look at me, his hand rising to caress my cheek. ‘Jesus… why didn’t you tell me?’

I shrugged, blinking back the tears. ‘I didn’t want to disappoint you. You want a baby.’

‘Erica, it’s not that important…’

---