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“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he’s curt.
“Kingston, don’t hide things from me. I opened up to you, you need to open up to me. What did he send?” I see the absolute fear storming in his eyes, his face slowly losing its cool tone and gaining a deeper shade of red.
“Lana. Don’t,” he warns and I sit up.
“Do not push me out,” I push back.
“Give us some space.” He turns to Shay and Trey and they nod, giving no argument and standing. He keeps his head turned focusing on them while they leave, my eyes never leaving his profile, assessing the tick in his jaw.
“Kingston,” I remind him when they are no longer here.
“He sent pictures of you.”
“Okay, why is that something you’re scared to t..”
“Nude pictures, Lana. You were naked, beaten and defeated.” Bounding away from the c
ouch he gets up and I watch in horror, while processing the information, as he takes the gold lamp off my desk and throws it with force against the wall. It shatters into pieces and I choke up, losing any mobile skills to move, talk, even gesture to him. I know what pictures he’s talking about, I thought I destroyed them all. How did he still have copies?
“I had to stare at fucking pictures of you, beaten and helpless. Scared, vulnerable and fucking alone! You have no idea what it did to me seeing those Lana!” He roars, moving around the tiny office like a caged animal in captivity.
“Kingston. Please calm down,” I finally get some words out.
“No! Lana, I’m just as scared as you, because I feel helpless, like I can’t fucking do anything! If he weren’t behind bars, Lana, I would...I would fucking kill him.” I gulp, our eyes locked and the look he gives me is that of a man possessed.
I know I now need to calm him down and worry about him for a second, push my problems aside and calm down my beast.
“Hey, calm down. Okay, I know you’re angry...” He scoffs when I pause to stand on my weak legs. “But I need you to breathe. I need you to calm down and be there for me right now.”
“I am baby, me and my bleeding heart are here for you. I am ripping it out and confessing to you, that if I can’t protect you or if someone hurts you, I will never survive the nightmare. I feel out of control.” I wrap my arms around his waist the best I can with my belly pronounced and round.
“You are keeping me safe, I promise I have never felt safer than I do with you,” I tell him this truthfully, because I do. I may be terrified of this new development, but for the first time since Joel abused me, I feel a safeness with Kingston.
“I failed you,” his words are pained, just as much as my heart is.
“No, baby, you didn’t. I’m still here, I’m still safe.”
He shakes his head, then turns it away, focusing on the wall to the left of us. I think up a distraction.
“Hey, baby boy was kicking a lot today, I think he knows mommy and daddy are having a rough day. Can you talk to him? Calm him down a little.” I see a glint of hope spark in his eyes and I know I’m bringing him back in.
Turning his head back to me, I gain his attention and I untangle myself from him and walk backward toward the couch. When it hits the back of my knees, I sit on the very edge. Kingston is watching me with great intent, his hands stationed on his hips while his eyes look me over from top to bottom. Finally he moves, stopping and dropping to his knees in front of me.
“Hey little man, sorry we’ve been a wreck lately. Is mommy stressed and it’s stressing you out?” Lifting my shirt, his lips find my six-month belly, heavy with our son, who I’m sure is going to be the world’s biggest fucking baby. I’m forever hungry and my stomach is much bigger than most women at six months. The doctor says he is going to be a big one.
“He was really bad this morning after you left. It’s like he knew I needed daddy and daddy needed me.” Biting his lip, he groans, not sexually more like pure need. We need comfort right now, we’re both dwindling down a long road of shit.
“Mama, let me take you home. You need something to eat and then some rest, little man needs it.”
“Princeton,” I say aloud.
“What?” He looks confused and I smirk.
“I want to name our son Princeton. Because he is our Prince, you are our King and I will be your Queen.”
Looking stunned, with glazed over eyes, he grins, “You’re perfect. My fucking hell, you’re perfect,” he repeats, leaning in and kissing my belly over and over again.
“You like it?” I came up with that name last week, wanting to surprise him with it at a better time, but here is the right time. That seems to be us, always planning for the perfect, but reacting on the moment.
