Page 21 of Bartholomew
“Already planned on it, brother,” Levi chuckled. “It was hard enough for Ruth and me to go through it on our own. Ruth can be there for Delilah. And that doesn’t have to start at the end of your honeymoon. Call anytime,” Levi suggested.
“That actually does help. Thanks, Ruth!” I called a little louder, making sure she could hear me.
“It’s on speakerphone, you idiot. You didn’t have to yell,” Levi scolded.
“Did it hurt your ears?” I asked.
“Yeah, you bellowed!” Levi complained, and I snickered.
“Good, then my job here is complete. Goodnight, Ruth, my favorite human. Goodnight, Levi, a person married to my favorite person. A person who I put up with because I have to,” I teased.
“Fucker.” I barely heard Levi’s last word before I hung up the phone, downing the rest of my drink in one large swallow and relishing in the deep burn it gave.
The house was quiet; oddly so. It was rare for me to not have some kind of music playing. I didn’t like the quiet. But for tonight, I let it be. I sat back in my office chair, barely able to hear the water running upstairs. She was likely filling the bathtub.
I didn’t like not being there. I did not like her having to process everything on her own. Not while I was right here, ready and waiting to help her. I could show her she wasn’t alone. I could bathe her, treat her like the beautiful woman she was. Hell, that was the whole reason I was a pleasure Dom. It wasn’t about the rules like Levi. And it wasn’t the knots like Gideon or the chase like Malachi. It was about women. Just being in charge of making a woman cum so many times that she forgot her own name.
But it was deeper than that, too. It was the care afterwards that mattered. It mattered to each of my brothers. And not being able to care for Delilah, my new wife, tonight… Well, that felt like my personal level of hell.
Tonight, I would let it be. And tomorrow, we would start anew.
* * *
Breakfast - my favorite meal of the day. Other than lunch and dinner, at least. I had woken up with the sun, deciding there and then to invest in light blocking curtains not only for my room, but for the guest rooms as well. Using the sun as an alarm clock was not my style. Not in the least. I was much more of a fornicate until the wee morning hours, and then lazily wake up in time for brunch kind of guy. Mercy, how could I forget about brunch? The best meal of them all.
I heard the patter of footsteps from down the hall and felt the excitement light up within me.
“Good morning, Delilah! How did you —”
“You cooked breakfast?” Her voice, soft and still slightly husky from lack of use and sleep, stopped my words short.
“Well, of course,” I chuckled, plating up the food I had prepared. I saw the confusion on her face morph into a smile, one not unlike my mother’s.
“I would have been happy to prepare your breakfast, Bartholomew. I will take note that you are an early riser and have breakfast prepared accordingly each morning.” Her words were kind. Kind and completely fake.
“I enjoy cooking. I don’t mind one bit. Now, just wait until you taste the French toast. There’s this trick I learned from a guy —”
“Thank you. Just this will be plenty for me,” she spoke with a smile. I watched as she set a few pieces of sliced apple on her plate, followed by a spoonful of yogurt from the bowl on the counter. It was barely anything at all. Small children at more.
“Please, eat up! I didn’t know what you liked, so I fixed all of my own favorites,” I explained, encouraged even.
“I look forward to learning how to prepare all of your favorite meals,” she spoke again with that surface level kindness that all women of Zion seemed to possess.
“I don’t need you to learn that, Delilah. Or if you want to, then I can teach you. But this morning I just wanted to fix you some delicious food and start this marriage off right.” I tried to reason, tried to make her understand how badly I wanted to just be us, while still heeding my brother’s words from last night. His words, Ruth’s words, rang in my ears.
“I am very pleased with our marriage, Bartholomew —”
“Ollie, please,” I corrected.
“I’m sorry?”
“Ollie. The people who are closest to me, namely my brothers, all call me Ollie. I would very much prefer it if you did as well,” I explained with a smile.
“Whatever would please you,” she answered, her eyes lowered. I’m sure such a display of submission would have moved me if I were Levi. The words, the lowered eyes, the soft voice.
But I was not Levi. Not by a long shot.
“Now that we have that figured out, what shall I call you?” I asked, my eyes not leaving her. Her eyes raised slightly, then lowered once more.
