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Shaking the thought away, I focus on Perry. I think about how much I want a normal life. Kids are normal. But. . . my egg production is working at the pace of a forty-year-old woman. The gynaecologist told us we’d still have a chance; though, however slim, we may get lucky.
A chance.
Luck?
Perry doesn’t take chances. Doesn’t believe in luck. He became more meticulous with when and how we make love. Knowing it may take years, he started the baby-making routine straightaway. And so, before we have even said our vows, sex has lost its pleasure. It is now filled with expectations, pressure, and fourteen days later, disappointments.
Lifting my foot up onto the mattress, I roll the soft, sheer black material of my stocking up to my knee. “We were young,” I murmur to myself more than to him and it hurts.
Downplayingushurts.
In truth, the moment the gynaecologist told me about my eggs, I remembered him.
When Perry initiated baby-making protocol too fast, I remembered him.
As much as I’ve tried to forget him, Bronson has been a shadow in my subconscious. In my heart.
As I continue to roll my leggings up, I graze my thigh lightly with my nail. Instantly, I close my eyes as the image ofhisteeth sliding up my leg washes through my mind. My head gets heavy for a moment, my breathing shallow. I press down harder, dragging the sharp ridge of my nail further up my thigh, leaving a burn in its wake. As I near my inner thigh, I stifle a moan.
I force my eyes open.
Take a big breath in.
Looking up, I find Perry standing closer to me than before, with a strange expression etched on his features. Studying that handsome, worldly face, I reach for a time when we had an easy, supportive kind of love story. When we weren’t climbing the professional ladder. When we weren’t all business. When we made love for fun rather than ticking off a step needed to make a baby. When we just. . .were.
I miss those days.
But it feels as though he is charging forward, dragging me with him, and all the while I’m stalling. Maybe I’m still at that park, holding myself together. So I go with the flow now.
Perry’s flow.
Looking at him, in his black fitted suit, with the shadow of disappointment in his eyes, I’m surprised that the peaceful love we shared has become so stale. So mixed up with routine. I thought it was this kind of love that sailed steadily through the tests of time.
I blink at my fiancé, feeling a wave of unease beneath his measuring eyes. “What is it?”
“You kept this from me,” he states, leaning back on his heels. “You knew who he was the moment you saw him. It’s why you flipped out in the theatre room. Why would you keep this from me? I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who kept secrets from her fiancé. Am I wrong?”
I shuffle my feet, guilt simmering inside me for no reason. I am allowed to process. Swallowing hard, I answer him honestly, hoping he’ll understand, perhaps even relate. “I felt uncomfortable. Bronson and I had a very intense relationship.” As I move to the other side of the room to slip my nude heels on, he follows my movements.
His blond brows draw in tight. “Do I need to be concerned about this little visit interrupting things between us? You know Akila is only getting worse as time goes by. She needs a calm environment but if you’re feeling overwhelmed, then maybe we need to talk about putting her in a home.”
Flattening my gold flapper-style dress down my stomach, I force back the panic wanting to rise. “You know I don’t want my sister in a home.”
“Well, she ismyresponsibility and I need to do what is best for her. And you’re sleeping in while on call. You’re running out during surgery-”
“What!? I didn’t sleep in. You let me.”
“You’re shouting at nurses.”
My mouth drops open. “I didn’t shout at them. Fucking Mandy!” I growl. She’s such a nark. “How can you talk to me like this? You know she has it in for me.”
“Look at you, you’re acting up right now. This isn’t high school, Shoshy. No one has itinfor you,” he sneers, closing the gap between us and cupping my neck with his hand. “It’s okay. I took care of it. But you’re acting erratic. Maybe we need to bring the night nurse back on a permanent roster, yeah? So you can get more sleep.”
“No. I can manage,” I say through a clenched jaw. I hated it last time, but I was in medical school and couldn’t juggle all my commitments. And I’m better now. I can handle this. Even though she can’t say it, I still see it in her eyes; Akila just waits for me to be with her.
“I’ve already spoken to Brenda about staying on permanently for the night shifts. She is good with Akila, and Mary is more than happy to train her up for full-time night work,” he says, narrowing his hazel eyes on my tense face. I try to hold his gaze, reminding myself that he may be my boss and my sister’s guardian, but he doesn’townus.. .
And yet, he somehow shrinks me with his sharp stare, making my eyes dart to the floor. “Okay. . .fine.As long as I can keep Akila here. I don’t want to have this conversation again. She is not going to a home.”
