I stretch out, clasping his neck, devoting myself to this joining, swarmed with relief at how firm his mouth is, how he cannot contain his own relief, groaning my name between our brief inhales to catch breath.
“You don’t think I’ve felt that?” he whispers, tearing away from me. His features are pale and hard, almost with anger at my ignorance. I gaze at him in confusion.
“Your dress was soaking with blood. You were crying, in pain. You kept passing out. By the time I got to you, you weren’t even opening your eyes.” He cups my face. “It’s eating me alive. I can’t get past it, this anger, the regret. We had something…something so perfect, and in a second it was gone, replaced by something that could hurt you. And then the possibility was gone altogether and I just…I felt lost. I feellost.”
“Perfect?”
No doubt he can see my skepticism, and behind that, infinite hope.
“You didn’t begin to dream alone, Darcy.”
The rattle. The clothes that are still in the drawer.
By now I’d be showing. My stomach would be beginning to shape. We’d be close to knowing a gender. The baby would be formed enough to know that. Those thoughts are a dark cloud, a parasitic veil that must be released so it won’t fester.
“I want to try again, Ben,” I whisper, more nervous than I can express to actually utter those words to him. “Maybe not right now, but someday.”
His eyes revealed no resistance while also expressing how concerning those words from me are. “The risks…”
“Look at what we’ve overcome. We’ve known separation, deceit, heartbreak, grief. Most would have given up a long time ago. We’re here, trying. I want a life with you. I want a child that looks like you, acts like you, has your heart. I can do it. I know I can. We just have to try.”
Desperation is a tricky thing. Even more, being desperate and aware of said desperation. To ask for something with your whole heart and try to see the decision in their eyes. Is it a yes? A no? If it’s yes, is it pity? Is it something years later they’ll regret? If it’s no, will it ruin us? Will we be able to get past it?
I want Benjamin to want it as much as I do. I want him to accept the risks and go into this with an open mind.
The doorbell rings while I’m searching his expression.
“We don’t need to decide anything today.” I kiss him softly. “Think on it. We have to both want it.”
I scoot from his grasp, bending to retrieve the items I’ve dropped. The doorbell rings again, and Benjamin rises to get it. I’m not surprised to find Dimitri there.
“The judge wants to meet to insure we won’t press charges.”
“Where?”
“Hotel bar.”
I step into the room and retrieve a clean shirt for Benjamin that buttons down the middle, less of a hassle to put on.
“Downstairs?” he says.
“Yes. He’s bringing a lawyer.”
“Christ. Superstitious son of a bitch,” Benjamin mutters. I hand him the dress shirt. “When?”
“He’s already here.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
Dimitri exits, and I begin buttoning up Benjamin’s shirt while he straightens out the collar.
“I’m sorry I’m leaving like this.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine.”
“We’ll talk…later?”
He wants to talk more?
