[January 2004  Soho.  Morning after the wedding]

DINO

It was the feel of a warm mouth sucking at my dick that woke me.  I jerked awake with a grunt.  My head pounded.  My mouth felt like cotton and tasted worse.  I blindly reached down but the head between my legs had close cropped curls not Heather's long silky hair.  My eyes flew open and I pushed the woman away as I sat up with a groan.   

Fuck.  

Naked in a whore's bed.  She was lazing on her side, watching me.  Pretty girl.  Exotic.  Brown skin.  Pale gray eyes.  Full lips.  Haitian maybe?  I had absolutely no memory of the previous night- but I'm not naïve enough to imagine nothing happened.  She rolled over and reached for her cigarettes.  She lit two and offered me one.  I took it.  I also took a swallow off the nearly empty bottle by the bed, wincing as it went down.  It tasted like shit.  I felt her fingers tickle over my tattoo and I shifted away, looking for my pants. 

"Bonjour, soldat."  Good morning, soldier.  More French followed and I struggled to translate it in my muzzy alcohol induced fog.  It was the idle chatter of a whore who finds a man in her bed the next morning.  Maybe hoping to earn a few more bucks by enticing him to stay. 

No thanks.

Guilt sat on my chest like a stone, suffocating me.  I'd just wanted to get away from everything for a while.  I'd never meant for this to happen.  I never imagined it could.  I wasn't the kind of man who'd cheat on his wife.  Except I'd woken up in a whore's bed with her mouth wrapped around my dick.  Jerking on my pants, I lurched to the bathroom.  I had to piss.  And I wasn't entirely sure I was going to be able to keep from throwing up.  I was disgusted with myself.

I couldn't believe the man staring back at me in the mirror.  I looked like death warmed over.  Rumpled.  Needed a shave and a shower.  Had the starting of a black eye above my left cheekbone.  Jesus.  I'm fucking forty.  Too goddamn old for this shit.  How the fuck had this happened?  I splashed water on my face.  The cold stung my hand.  I looked down.  My knuckles were scraped and swollen.  I guess whoever I hit had hit back.  Somehow, I'm sure I deserved it.  I rinsed my mouth out and winced at the throbbing in my head.

Got out of there as fast as I could.  Dodged 'Genevieve's' artful attempts at seductions as well as her glance at my wedding ring and pointed comments about my wife when I made it clear I wasn't going to be staying for a morning blow.  I threw some money down on the small table by the door and left her still lounging in bed, naked as a jay, while she lit up a very different sort of 'smoke'.  Made me wonder if it wasn't more than alcohol that had contributed to the way I'd found myself this morning.  Probably.

I drove to discrete little hotel I knew of.  I was an emotional wreck inside, but training saves your ass every time.  Keep moving.  Do what you know you have to do.  Functioning on autopilot, I sent my clothes down to be laundered and then took the longest, hottest shower I think I've ever taken in my life. 

And still felt dirty.        

Part of me wanted to tell Heather.  To ask for forgiveness... but another, smarter- or maybe just more scared part of me- knew she'd leave me if she ever found out I cheated.  It was a huge deal to her.  To me too, actually.  A deal breaker.  Jesus.  I'd thrown my life away... and for what?  Because of some stupid words we'd hurled at each other in anger? 

Now that I'd had time to think about it, I couldn't believe how out of control I'd been.  Not just in what I'd said to her, but in my reactions to what she'd said to me.  It was hardly a mortal blow.  So what if she'd gone looking for Curry?  Wasn't that exactly what I'd done when I Crossed?  The very first thing I'd done was go looking for Gen.  Looking up Heather hadn't even occurred to me until after my heart and been convinced there was no way for me to go forward in this world with Gen.

The cold hard truth is that Heather was my second choice.  Maybe I was hers too.  Still, it didn't mean I loved her any less than I loved Gen.  I loved her just as much.  Just differently.  I'd had a good life with my Gen.  And I'd made a good life with Heather here.  Neither of us had 'settled'.  We'd simply acknowledged there were other paths we might have taken.  Not a better path.  Just a different one.  And that we could see beyond that to walk a singular path together said a hell of a lot about what we both really wanted in this life.  We were a family.  We were in love.  For Christ's sake, we were wound so tightly because we wanted to make a baby together and couldn't.  Not because she meant less to me than Gen or because I meant less to her than Lachlan. 

Hindsight is always 20/20, I guess.  The simple truth is that I chose her.  I could have chosen Gen.  I could have chosen to live alone with my memories, but I chose to make a life with Heather.  And she chose me.  Even after Curry came back into her life, she still chose me. 

God, I'm such a fool.  

I must have picked up the phone twenty times that morning, wanting to call my wife.  Wanting to talk to her.  Just to hear her voice so that I'd feel OK.... but I was afraid.  Scared she'd be able to read what had happened in my voice.  Scared she wouldn't want to talk to me.  Or worse, that she'd taken Andy and had caught a redeye flight last night.  Christ.  What would I do if they left me?

Now, twin with the feeling of guilt in my chest, was panic.  To combat that, I did what I always do when I'm scared.  I plan.  Try to cover all my bases.  Try to anticipate every outcome.  I had a few hours before my clothes would be ready so I rang down to the front desk to arrange a noon wake up call.  I wanted to be sure to be back at the estate in plenty of time to take my family to the airport.  I didn't want Heather to think I wasn't coming back. 

I'm pretty sure she'd know that.  I'd left like this before.  Sometimes for a few hours.  Once in a while overnight.  I know a little time and distance can often work wonders.  It did this time.  I certainly have a clearer view of everything today, though I wish with all my heart I could undo last night.  Take back my cruel words.  Take back the night I spent in another woman's bed.  I will carry the guilt of that one transgression for as long as I walk this earth. 

I know I'm savvy enough to hide it from her.  I can't hide it from myself, though.  And for the first time in a long time, I am ashamed of the person I am.  I also know confessing it to her would only make me feel better.  She must never, ever know.   

And strangely, if I discounted my overwhelming guilt about last night- I felt like Heather and I had been needed a fight like that for a long time.  It felt like we'd lanced the poison that had been building between us.  Both of us had been so close to the breaking point.  It was crazy to think we could just keep going indefinitely.  Trying to get pregnant and failing again and again.... It was bound to affect us both deeply.  Maybe we just needed some time to go back to being us again.  To stop trying for a while. 

I wasn't sure how I'd ever look at her again or feel worthy of touching her... But I knew if I could just keep it together a little while longer, just get over this rough spot.... I know in my heart things could get better... and if they didn't?  Well, it wouldn't be before I'd killed myself trying. 

[Early February 2004  Washington DC.  Home]

DINO

Three weeks.  Three weeks since that morning I'd found myself in the whore's bed and I still hadn't found my balance yet.  I'd tried to move forward the best way I knew how.  I mean- let's face it... I have, in the past, done worse things than crash out in a whore's bed.  My guilt over breaking our vows still choked me, but I'm also practical.  I can't help but be that way.  I've spent a lifetime learning to live like that.  And I am a man.  It's easier for me to compartmentalize my life.  To just assign that night a place in the past, close the door on it and never look back. 

It doesn't mean I haven't taken a lesson from it or that I haven't used it to inspire me to try harder to be the kind of man my family needs me to be.... but to be honest, I haven't really been dwelling on it too much.  First rule of advancement.  He who carries the lightest load can advance farther and faster than someone burdened with a heavy pack.  It wouldn't do me any good to beat myself up over something I couldn't change.  I could only learn from it, cut loose the dead weight, and go forward. 

And at least in theory, I'd tried to.  

I came back to the estate in Kent with my hat in my hands.  Contrite.  Threw my big guns into play.  Brought her flowers.... this exotic mix of white orchids and bamboo.  Admitted I'd been a dick.  Validated her feelings.   

My initial impulse had been to buy her something.  Surprise her with a piece of unusual jewelry... but I know I'd be giving myself away if I did.  I never wanted to buy her forgiveness and she was too sharp to miss something like that.  So, I just settled for the flowers and an apology... when what I really wanted to do was fall to my knees and confess.  Actually, deep down, what I really wanted was for her to love me and want me even with the dark stains on my soul... even while other parts of me wanted desperately to protect her from the rudeness of life, especially when it was of my own making.

It was hard.  I was so glad to be back with her... with Andy, too.  And I did mean what I said to her.  I was sorry for acting like such a dick.  But I also knew on some level, part of it was an act.  The motions men go through to try to fix things.  And in this case, to ensure certain other elements of that night remained hidden.  On one hand, I felt so guilty I could hardly look at her.  On the other, I knew if I didn't pretend things were better than they were, she'd know more had happened than I'd let on.  I felt like the biggest shit in the world for deceiving her... and yet, I choked down my unease and did it because I knew it was our best shot at fixing things between us. 

And the ugly truth is, I've got a damn good game face.  I'm a professional negotiator... which is really just a nice way of saying I am a consummate bullshit artist.  Good enough to wager people's lives on it.  I am very good at reading people.  I'm also good at lying.  I fucking hate that I had to do it with Heather, but what's the alternative?  Throwing away our life together based on a night I have no memory of?  I was hardly thinking rationally when I woke up that morning.  Didn't think to ask any questions or examine any of the evidence.  I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

Now that I'd had time to think, I couldn't help but wonder.  There was no proof I fucked that girl.  I just assumed I had.  I mean- it's not like I stopped while I was in the shower, rubbed my dick and smelled my fingers to see if I could catch the scent of sex.  I simply assumed I was guilty.  I probably was.  I'm not making excuses.  And I'm also real enough to know I'll most likely never know the answer.  Maybe we went back to her place, got high and crashed.  I do know I'd been drunk and in a fight.  I was hardly in the condition to bang a girl with anything approaching coordination.  That wouldn't rule out a blow though, or her riding me while I was out of my head.  Either way, innocent or guilty, it wasn't worth my marriage.                       

Since then, we've had a strange couple of weeks.  I still haven't been able to bring myself to make love to her.  Not really much of a change there, however.  Doctor's orders restrict us to five days a month anyway, and those had pretty much been eaten up with our argument, the flight home and jetlag.  And in addition to that, Andy's been having nightmares.  Bad ones about that whore Isobel.  But I think like most parents, even when we're struggling with something between us, concern our child unites us somehow.  I think that's very telling about our relationship.  Sometimes we're screwed up with each other- but when it comes to him?  We're always a united front.  Always. 

It gives me hope.     

HEATHER

I'm not really sure how to describe how things had been between us since England.  Tentative, maybe.  A little awkward, too... but there was also this growing sense of hope that we hadn't had before our argument had cleared the air between us.  I think we've needed a fight like that for a long time.  Maybe since he found that journal so long ago.  Who knows?   

Still, it was... I dunno.... like we were some sort of blend of raw and fragile and scared to make any more mistakes with each other.  Careful.  That's how we were.... we were careful with each other.  Part of me knew he was as desperate as I was to make peace when he returned to the estate that afternoon before our flight.  Still, I couldn't help but feeling a bit snowed by him, though.  He turns up with 'I've been a naughty boy' written all over his face, giving me the song and dance men do..... flowers and the 'I'm sorry I was such a dick' speech.  I mean, yeah, he was sorry... but did he have to make it so obvious? 

I was still prickly enough to see and understand his overture and yet also be annoyed at it in a way.  To say nothing of my feelings of guilt for passing the night in another man's arms.  Nothing happened but two people picking each other up and brushing each other off.... but I knew he wouldn't see it like that.  And the real truth is, it had felt good.  Lachlan and I had always been more to each other than just a memory.  I knew it.  He knew it.  It wasn't love.  But it could have been.  

What more is there to say?  What more can you say?  We had both gone on to find love elsewhere.  I was glad he had... and deeply saddened that the woman he'd chosen to let into his heart had been lying to him about what was in hers for years.  How heartless.  My God, how could she do that and still stand look at herself in the mirror every day?  And how could he go on knowing his precious children bound him to a woman like that?  No wonder he wished he could turn back time.

The problems between Dino and I seemed incredibly small by comparison.  They were painful, but I had never doubted his love for me.  Nor mine for him.  I respected him.  I trusted him.  And even though some of what he'd said that afternoon seemed... a little too planned somehow, other things he said touched me deeply.  Moved me profoundly.  He'd just looked at me with this expression on his face that said so much. 

Misery.

He was miserable without me, without us.  He hated to be at odds as much as I did.  Maybe more than I did.  I think that sometimes he still felt like it was Andy and I who were the real family and that he was just sort of extra, an outsider.  I hated that he could feel that.  We were a family.  I did love him.  We talked a long time that afternoon.  Some of what he said was so very smooth... and some was so utterly humble and heartfelt.  He is a man of so many contradictions.  There are times I wonder if I will ever uncover them all. 

Still, I noticed something odd.  He didn't touch me.  Not one time.  Frankly, I was still upset enough not to want to cuddle and be close... and yet it still annoyed me that he didn't even try to touch me.  Isn't that so typical of men and women?  Women don't want what they want.  Men won't give what they need.       

Since we'd returned to DC, both of us had been trying so hard.  Being extra understanding.  Taking care to explain ourselves thoroughly about anything that might be misunderstood or misconstrued.  Taking the time to do little things for each other.  I made his favorite meals.  Left little notes for him in his briefcase.  He brought home little presents for me each night.  Sometimes grand things like beautiful flowers or tickets to a play he knew I wanted to see.  Sometimes just little things that showed he was thinking of me.  A piece of the hard candy I liked from a dish at some client's office.  A poem jotted down on a post-it note.  That sort of thing.   

It was working.  We still hadn't made love, but we were closer.  I think part of it had to do with Andy's nightmares.  They were hard on us both, but it just tore Dino up to hear his little boy screaming in his sleep in utter terror.  The first time it happened shook us all up.  I'd never seen that look on his face before.  Like he was going to kill whatever was making his boy scream like that.  It was the first time I'd ever seen him on the edge of real commando mode, and it frightened me.  It excited me, too.  Dino had a soft heart, a good heart... but he was also incredibly dangerous given the right motivation.   

Still, despite that, it took forever to get both my boys back to sleep after one of those night terrors.  Dino would hold Andy against his chest, curl up with him in the chair in the nursery and just rock him for hours.  Then he would come to me and I'd rock him.  Nothing disturbed him more than being unable to shield either of us from hurt.  And it bothered us both horribly that it was Isobel he kept dreaming of. 

Though Dino had shared his concerns with me, I didn't need the new details of the ongoing background check to know she was a lying, manipulative, two-faced bitch.  I saw how she looked at Jack.  And Bud.  And Cort.  I saw how she treated others.  She was the kind of woman who'd do anything to get what she wanted.  Anything.  Break a vow.  Break a law.  Break a heart.  I certainly wouldn't put it past her to threaten or harm a child to get what she wanted.  People like her only care about one thing.  Themselves.  And if I ever found out she'd harmed Andy... no amount of magic in the world would be enough to keep her safe. 

Both Dino and I were concerned about it, but not scared.  People like her always wind up cutting their own throat because they're too greedy.  Sex.  Money.  Power.  Control.  Nothing is ever enough.  They want it all- and that's what brings them down in the end.  Blind to the ultimate cost, they take and take and take until their world burns down around them.  As long as she kept away from the people I loved, I didn't care who she fucked. 

Some things you just know.... and I knew she'd get hers in the end.  Karma is a bitch that way.         

Isobel might be savvy and street smart, but she wasn't almighty.  She'd zeroed in on Max and Terry as the biggest burs under her saddle and they drew most of her ire, just as they'd intended.  It amused me.  They took the heat while the silent partner flew right under the radar.  It's actually Dino who does the most sensitive work relating to the Family's security.  They're all equally talented... but Terry and Max have faces that draw too much attention for the detail work when it comes to the Family's private business.  Dino was good at what he did and it made me proud, but it worried me too.  Our relationship was strained enough without Isobel and her bad juju making it worse.      

Tonight had been another of those nights where Andy woke us screaming.  We'd finally gotten him back to sleep and Dino had come back to bed.  His body was cold from having sat in a rocking chair for nearly two hours wearing nothing but his shorts.  He wanted to cuddle and talk, but I was distracted, unsettled over Andy's nightmare... but also scared and nervous about something else.  I was late. 

As in late, late.     

I'd never been five days late in my life.... but I was afraid to raise his hopes... and mine- only to have them dashed.  I'd told myself I wouldn't tell him until I was a week late and had done a home pregnancy test... but he knew something was weird with me.  The waiting was getting to me.  And on top of tonight's drama, it was just too much.  I would have done a test tonight but I didn't keep them in the house anymore.  After a year of disappointments, I'd gotten rid of the two I kept 'just in case'.  Just decided it was easier not to have to look at them every day in the medicine cabinet, waiting for a chance to use them that just never came.            

I felt Dino nuzzle my neck and his hand found mine.  "You gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to guess, honey?"

I huffed softly.  "Is it that obvious?"  I knew I'd been distracted.  I was terrified to even hope, but I also couldn't stop thinking about it.  This last week, I'd been lost in thoughts of round bellies and that baby smell... and of humming lullabies, like I had with Andy. 

"Well.... yeah."  He chuckled quietly.  "I found a dog biscuit in my briefcase on Tuesday and a signed permission slip to go to the zoo tucked in with my papers yesterday-"

"Crap!  Is that where that went?"  I'd looked all over for that.  I'd finally had to get another from Andy's teacher.  He laughed at me. 

"Yep.  Not that I'd mind skipping out on policy planning meetings to go make faces at the monkeys and watch the lions doing it..."  Private family joke.  Every single time we'd ever taken Andy to the zoo, the lions and been attempting to make baby lions.  Imagine the questions we got from Andy?  I giggled at him.  ".... but something has you wound pretty tightly, and I'm kinda hoping you'll tell me what is."

I took a deep breath.  "I don't want you to get your hopes up, OK?  Because I haven't done the test yet...."  He tensed a little at that and I knew he knew what I was going to say next.  "...but I'm late.  Five days."  He went utterly still.  I rushed on.  "I feel a little weird, but I don't know if it's just PMS or nerves over- over everything that's been going on with us lately...."  He was still silent.  "Say something, Dean."

He rolled me over to face him and looked into my eyes.  Tears sparkled in his lashes.  "I love you."  And then he kissed me, soft and slow and deep.  He pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine, blowing out with a soft sigh.  "Go do the test."

I smiled at his impatience.  "I can't.  I don't have one."

"No?  I thought we had a couple... in the medicine cabinet?  I'll go look."

I stopped him.  "We don't have any."  This time, the tone of my voice must have tipped him off.  He just fell back against the pillows and nodded.  He didn't say anything about me trashing them.  Just like I hadn't said anything about the bottle of scotch I knew he kept hidden in his desk drawer.

He grinned at me and threw the covers back.  "Not a problem, baby.  I'll just go buy one."  I laughed at that as the image of him, scruffy and rumpled in jeans and some junky sweatshirt, in line at the corner grocery buying a pregnancy test in the middle of the night.  Imagine what the clerk would think?  Desperation!  I laughed harder.  He gave me a look.  "What?"

I grabbed his arm and pulled him back into bed.  "You can't go now.  It's two in the morning."

"Store's open," he fired back.

"The car will wake Andy.  You just got him down."  I snuggled into him.  "In the morning will be soon enough."  I didn't say if the test came out negative that we'd at least have these few precious hours to dream before our spirits were crushed.  I didn't have to say it.  He knew it as well as I did.

He chuckled quietly and then groaned.  "Morning is hours away, baby."  He sounded like a kid waiting for Christmas.  It was adorable. 

I grinned and sat on him, straddling his hips as I peppered his chin with kisses.  "Then I guess it's lucky for you I know a good way to pass the time."  There was a moment of awkwardness.  It was the first time since our argument in England that either of us had initiated sex.  And it took every bit of my courage to be the one to do it.  He had to be tired of jerking off in the shower every morning.  I sure as hell was.  But more than that, I was just tired of being apart.  I wanted to feel his body against mine.  Inside mine. 

He hesitated and my bravado crumbled.  I tried to climb off his hips but he caught me and pulled me back on top of him.  And then he touched me.  Sexually.  One hand on my hip to keep my crotch pressed to his groin.  The other on my bare breast, cupping and caressing while he rubbed his growing erection between my legs.  He centered the wet spot on my panties over the wet spot forming in the front of his shorts and rubbed harder. 

His fingers left my breast and trailed up to caress my neck.  A tender echo of the way I'd encouraged him to touch my throat before, only this was soft and sweet where we'd been wild and out of control before.  It blew my mind.  After all those times trying, if I was pregnant, we'd have made a life with his strong hands wrapped around my throat while we fucked each other with absolute abandon. 

His blue eyes glittered as they met mine.  "You thinking of that night?" he asked softly.  We'd never spoken about it.  I nodded.  "Me too."  He kicked away his shorts and pulled down my panties but made no move to penetrate me.  He just moved me back over his hips and settled back against the pillows, looking up at me.  "I wouldn't ever hurt you.  You know that, don't you?"

I could feel his erection throbbing where it lay trapped between our bodies.  I smiled at him.  "I've always know that, Dean."  He kissed my mouth and then my fingertips- and then his own fingertips before he pressed them against my flat belly.  His one concession to the secret I'd shared with him tonight.  After failing at this so many times, neither of us wanted to believe without proof... but neither of us could keep from hoping, either.

He was so very soft with me.  He is a man who feels things deeply but rarely allows emotion to consume him, probably because in his job, becoming emotionally involved is dangerous, both for himself and for the person whose release he's trying to negotiate.  Sometimes I think he gets too used to living closed off from feeling, like he's trying to protect me from what he carries around inside him.  I wish I knew how to show him those were the parts I loved the most.  That no matter how hard he tried, they always found some way of shining through.  The good and the bad.  I wish I knew how to tell him that it was the blending of the two, that rich patina that resulted from the blend of the gilt and the tarnish that had always drawn me to him.

He could kill.  He could take a life.... with a gun.  With a knife.  With his hands.  He could play both ends against the middle with devastating results.  He could charm anyone with his silver tongue.  He could lie and deceive with it too.  He could be cold and cruel... and yet he could also be warm and giving.  He could hold Andy in his arms and rock him for hours.  He could make me feel beautiful and loved and safe.  He had a temper.  And a wicked sense of humor.  He was stubborn.  And generous. 

Laughter and tears.  Heartbreak and happiness.  Lust and love.  He was everything to me.  How I desperately wished I could be everything to him too, including mother to his unborn children. 

DINO

Time seemed to slow as I just watched her sitting astride my hips.  I wanted to unburden myself so badly.  To confess.  I wanted to purge my soul before I put my body inside hers.  The thought she might be pregnant made the gulf between us seem so much wider.  She was all that was sweet and pure and good... and it just made the dark stain on my own soul seem that much blacker. 

I tried to show her how I felt.  That it was a privilege to touch her.  And that she'd granted that privilege solely to me meant more than I could ever say.  I was so sorry that I'd fucked up and so desperate for this to be a chance for us to go forward.  To close the door on the mistakes in the past and just make a fresh start with each other, right here- right now.  My hands smoothed over her and helped ready her body to accept mine, and all the while, in my head, I was thinking just one thing.

Silently begging for forgiveness.  Recommitting myself to her, body and heart and soul.  Swearing to her if I gave up the distance I'd been clinging to and put myself inside her body that I'd grab this new beginning between us and hang on like my life depended on it.  In some ways, I think it did.  What good is a man if his heart is cold and dead inside?  That's how I'd be without her and Andy.  And God, if she was pregnant.... it was like this golden dream dangled before me.  How could I keep from jumping at it?

I felt that horrible suffocating guilt begin to ease, felt my heart begin to open to her... I was so afraid of being hurt, but I was more afraid of hurting her.  Sometimes though, you just have to take a chance.  Some things are worth the risk.  For the first time in a long time, I wore my heart on my sleeve.  I touched her hips and kept rocking under her... but I also let her see how fragile I was.  How much I needed this to be something she granted, not something I took.

Even with the slippery friction of her folds against the sensitive tip of my cock making my head spin and my breath come in shallow pants, I still needed a more active sign of her acceptance.  Undeniable proof that she wanted this; that she wanted me.  My hands tightened on her hips, urging her to raise up, but I simply lay there under her gaze, humbled in contrition and desire, vulnerable and afraid to take the next step without her.  "Help me...." 

She took her time.  Hands ghosting over my face and chest, over my tattoo and into the tangle of reddish curls between my legs.  Moving up over me as she rubbed the head of my cock through her folds and used it to masturbate herself, dipping it into her wetness only to drag it up and use it to massage her clit.  It was almost too much sensation.  Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.  It was also a reflection of where we were emotionally.  Two bundles of nerves, raw and exposed, rubbing together in a way that would hurt us both if we weren't careful.

"Unnnn.... Dean..."

She gasped my name as the friction became unbearable.  I shivered.  "Help me.... please..."  Please... let me be a part of you.... a part of the life that might be growing in you even now.... please.... "I need to be inside..." my voice broke as she took me into her most intimate embrace.  As she let me in.  Let me home. 

As I let myself come home.

Wrapped up safe in the body of the woman I love.  "God-"  I choked on a sob as I pulled her closer to me and scooted back against the pillows.  I didn't want to control this but I didn't want to lay passively either.  I just wanted to be as close to her as I could. 

She touched my face.  "Dean... more..."  She didn't want me to fuck her harder.  She wanted more intimacy.  More touch.  More trust.  More vulnerability.  More of the things that were just for us and nobody else.  She wanted more intimacy.  I wanted every intimacy.  To have her in every way a man can have a woman.  It wasn't wild animalistic desire... and it wasn't sweet and romantic either.  It was tender and unbearably raw. 

I kissed and touched every inch of her I could reach.  Held her against me just to feel her heart beat against mine.  To hear her breath in my ear.  To mingle the scent of our sweaty bodies.  We moved differently, slower but with no less passion.  Perhaps it was instinctive, this drive not to endanger the life she might be carrying.  It governed the force of our ardor, but not the depth of our intimacy. 

God, how I'd missed kissing her this way.  Like she was the very air I breathed.  I touched her breasts and hips but couldn't keep my hands off that gorgeous backside of hers.... caressed the soft curve of her cheeks and the valley between them.  Wet a finger in the proof of her desire and held her eyes as I slowly pushed it inside her. 

She moaned softly but didn't close her eyes.  "Yes, Dean.... more....."  Her fingers clutched hard at my shoulders and I drew her mouth down to mine and kissed her deeply.  I wanted to share her orgasm as much as I could.  Taste.  Scent.  Touch.  Feel.... She whimpered into my mouth and came so hard.  I felt it, hard rhythmic contractions around my cock and around my finger, too.  Felt her heart slamming against mine.  Felt her thighs tremble where they were cradling my hips. 

It was like drowning in feeling.  My every sense was full of her.  She collapsed against me but I made sure she didn't take me too deep.  I was still so hard.  I couldn't stand it.  "I need to be on top.... I need to fuck..." A ragged whisper in her ear.  I would have appreciated her blush more if I wasn't dying to feel her under me.  Her movements were languid, boneless like a little rag doll.  She moved and I held myself above her.  I leaned in to kiss her and pulled away to whisper against the shell of her ear.  "Turn over for me, baby..."

She did and I couldn't resist nipping the sweet curve of her ass and pressing little kisses up her spine before I covered her body with mine.  I was so careful with her, but I needed to feel her under me.  Needed to cover my woman's body and just feel her take me in.  Needed to feel the soft flesh of her rump against my groin as I thrust.  Mostly, I think I just needed to feel accepted... and I needed to be able to ghost my fingers across her stomach as I came.  It wasn't pretty or smooth or scripted... but it was real.  Dean O'Leary stripped down to his naked self. 

I let her feel every shudder and hitch, hear every grunt as I lost myself in her.... shared every trembling gasp as the pleasure spiked between my legs and every throb as my body shed starlight into hers.  The intensity of my orgasm left me weak and trembling.  As shaky as she'd been for me. 

She whimpered as I slipped out and turned over to reach for me.  I couldn't help but smile.  That is my absolute favorite thing about making love to her.  That little noise she makes when it's over that says she misses my body already.  And she always reaches for me after.  Always.  Even at rock bottom when sex was just this mechanical thing we did to try to get pregnant, she'd still reach for me after. 

It's one of those small-big things.  Seems like such a little thing... and yet, it was so very huge.  Symbolic.  She would always open her embrace to me.  And I would always go to her.  I've never asked her why she does it or what it means to her.  But to me?  It's safety.  Acceptance.  Home.  Sanctuary.  Security.  All the things I've longed for my entire adult life. 

I spooned up behind her, smiling at how she sighed in utter contentment as I entwined our fingers.  I couldn't resist pressing a tender kiss to her nape and whispering a soft 'I love you' against her skin.  She relaxed into me but didn't say it back.  She said something even better.

I've missed you.          

And for the first time in a long time, when sleep took us, we were at peace.  

I can't say for sure what woke me.  The empty spot in the bed next to me?  The soft light coming from the bathroom?  That instinctive feeling that something is wrong?  The clock by the bed said 4:19.  I sat up, instantly awake and alert.  Crying.  That's what woke me.  The soft sound of my wife crying.  I threw back the covers and got up.  Pulled on some sweats.

I saw her before she saw me.  She was in the bathroom.  There was an open box of tampons on the back of the toilet and she was brushing away her tears as she angrily tossed all the fertility stuff that had lived in our medicine cabinet for the last year into the trash.  Hurling them one after another, each one more violently than the last.  Thermometer, ovulation kit, vitamins...  Crying harder every time she reached for something else to throw.  I wanted to cry too.      

It was a shockingly private moment to witness.  She hadn't ever even let me see her cry when she came on, although I knew she did.  But this was something worse.  I can't explain how I knew, but I did.  Call it a husband's intuition.  I wasn't sure whether to intrude or to step away into the shadows until I heard something that made my blood run cold. 

She swept the box off the back of toilet in a fit of anger and whispered, "I hate you!"  For half a second I thought she might have meant me.... but I'd have taken that over what I heard next.  "Stupid body.  I hate you.  I hate you!"  I'd never heard such venom.  And that it was directed inward just killed me.  I'd never imagined she felt that way.  In my mind, it had always been my fault.  My failing. 

And then it got worse.  So much worse.  She balled her hand into a fist and hit herself as hard as she could in the stomach, in that space between her navel and her panties.  I don't think I've ever moved as fast in my life as I did then.  I caught her wrist before she could do it again.... and it was like touching a match to a powder keg.  She fought me like a wild thing in a trap.  It was bad.  Really fucking bad.  Rage made her strong and I was afraid of hurting her, but I was more afraid she'd hurt herself.  I just restrained her as best I could and let the blows come, waiting for her to spend herself.  I knew it wouldn't take long.  Nothing that intense could be sustained for any length of time. 

In minutes it had subsided into these hitching sobs that just tore my guts out.  I ached all over, my heart worst of all.  She'd hit me in several places and knocked me into things.  I'd tried to keep her from getting hurt by twisting to take the worse of it myself.  My arm ached where it had connected with the towel bar and my side was scraped raw where I hit the edge of the counter on the way down as I wrestled her to the floor.  I think I spared her the worst of it though, thank Christ. 

She just lay there crying on the floor.  Didn't even respond when I checked her limbs.  Nothing broken, but her wrists were red where I'd held them.  Fuck.  I felt bile rise in my throat.  I swallowed it down and gathered her into my arms.  By the time I'd carried her back to bed, she'd withdrawn into herself.  Not even crying now.  It was like all the light had gone out of her.  I tried to smooth back her hair and cover her but she just turned away and curled into a ball. 

She'd come crashing down from our earlier high.... and I did too.  Satisfied she was safe, I returned to the bathroom, closed the door and hurled my guts up.  Jesus, God!  I never, ever wanted to see anything like that again.  I can take just about anything, but not that.  I rinsed my mouth out and took a minute to calm the fuck down.  My hands were shaking and I felt like my insides had turned to jelly.  I took a couple of deep breaths and got a hold of myself.

The bathroom was trashed.  I straightened it up as best I could, I think mostly because I didn't know what else to do.  The towel bar was going to need new screws and the soap dish was broken.  We'd cracked the glass in a couple of the frames on the wall, but the rest seemed OK.  I straightened the rug and threw our towels over the shower door before I sat down and spent a good five minutes putting the tampons she'd knocked across the bathroom back in their box.  Spent even longer just sitting there, crying.  I felt so helpless.  And I felt the loss of our intimacy like a blow to the chest.   

The last thing I did was take out the trash.  I watched it all tumble into the garbage out back and wondered if it was possible for a man to smother under the weight of his own aching heart.  You know what it feels like to throw away hope? 

I do.

HEATHER

Dino hated having to leave me that morning, but he had a meeting he couldn't miss.  He doesn't have the kind of job where you can call in sick.  When he does that, it endangers people's lives.  He didn't even try to talk with me.... he just talked to me, soft and low with more tenderness than I deserved.  He told me he'd be home as soon as he could and that he loved me.  It sounded like he'd been crying. 

I just lay there with my back to him and nodded.  I couldn't face him yet, not after what he'd seen.  I felt so ashamed.  A failure.  Couldn't give him a baby.  Couldn't even keep my shit together.  I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at me.  How could he look at me and not see that?  He was such a good man.  He deserved someone so much better than me.              

I got up because I had to.  Because life goes on, like it or not.  I waited until I heard the sound of the car's engine pull out of our driveway and disappear down the street... and then I did the one thing I'd promised myself I'd never do.  I picked up our phone and dialed the number to Lach's cell.