Dr. Do-Right (Occupational Hazards)

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“How much of that did you hear?” I croaked, sitting up and swiping at my face. I frantically replayed the conversation with my mother in my head. I’d said a lot of things, but what, specifically, had I said about Mal?

That I’d moved in with him. That I loved him. He was my future. Ah, fuck. I wanted to tell him those things myself, at the right time. Not when there was a crazy stalker on the loose trying to ruin his career. Not because he’d overheard me talking to my mother, of all people.

“Enough to be completely awed by you,” he answered, already padding across the floor towards me. “You were so strong, Ri, standing up to her like that. I’ve never been more proud of you.”

One second I was sitting on the duvet, the next, my ass was planted in his lap while he held me in the most tender embrace I’d ever felt. My eyes prickled again, but for a different reason.

“You’re proud of me?” I squeaked. Malachi’s hand swept across my face, coming away wet with my tears. He dropped kisses across my other cheek. The way he was holding me made me want to stay here forever.

“So proud. Ridiculously proud. It’s hard to set boundaries like that with close family, but I knew you could do it, Ri. I knew it.” He nuzzled the side of my neck. My eyes closed, and I curled myself deeper into him. I hadn’t stopped crying yet, and my heart was still hammering in my ears. Run-ins with my mother always left me shaky, but this was helping. A lot.

“Apparently, I just needed the right motivation to cut her loose.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d talked about this, he and I. It was Mal’s occupational hazard: getting up close and personal with someone else’s life shit. Talking to them about it. Asking questions. Digging deeper.

Every time we talked about my parents, he always told me the same things. That I was worthy of love, especially from the people who were supposed to love me most. That I was allowed to make my own choices about my life. And that whatever I decided to do about my parents, whenever I decided to do it, he’d be with me all the way.

Looking back, this conversation, this breaking point, was inevitable. Maybe he and Dr. Peterson had always known that would be the case.

“Death threats have a way of offering some perspective, I suppose,” he murmured, rocking me slightly against him. His fingers threaded through my hair.

“That, yes,” I admitted. “And she was talking about how you and Sonnie are bad influences on me and had never been any good. I couldn’t let her talk about you like that.”

Mal stilled his stroking, craning down to look at my face. His brow furrowed softly, like he was asking a question, or he’d misheard me. “You cut your parents off because of me?”

“And Sonnie,” I qualified, not sure why I felt the need to do so. I also wasn’t sure why my eyes darted away to stare at the framed Jackson Pollock print across the room that we’d yet to hang. “Besides, she was saying stuff like maybe Christine was telling the truth, and I kind of cracked.”

“Hmm.” Mal breathed out a deep, growly sigh. “You know her whole story, the baby and everything, is a lie.”

I jerked upright. Since we’d seen the video this morning, and the subsequent social media commentary, we hadn’t discussed Christine’s story. I’d assumed we didn’t have to.

“Of course it’s a lie, Mal. You would never do that to someone. You’d stand by your child, if you had one. Even if you had one with someone who is completely disturbed.” My fingers wrapped around his chin when he continued to study the swirling pattern on my yoga pants. “I know you better than that. I know that what she’s saying…it isn’t possible. Not for you.”

He took a quiet breath, let it out slowly.

“Rija, I’ve never had sex with Christine. Not even when we first met. But even if I had, she wouldn’t be pregnant with my child. She couldn’t.” His black-brown irises bored into mine.

“You can’t have kids?” That seemed like what he was trying to tell me, but I wanted to make sure I was reading it right. He looked so serious, so concerned. I knew this was important to him. Which made it important to me.

“I can’t. She’s not the first to threaten to make such…claims about me. Years ago, after all the social media stuff started taking off, before I’d met you, I had a vasectomy.”

I could feel my brows shoot up to my hairline. It occurred to me, jarringly, that we’d never once talked about birth control. I was on the pill, and I knew I was clean, and Mal was, too. But then my brain digested what he was telling me, and my heart sank for him.

“That must have been a tough decision for you.” I cradled his jaw when he would have dipped his head.

“It, um, wasn’t really.” His gaze flickered across my forehead before finally landing on my eyes. Lines of tension stood out in his neck. “I decided a long time ago that if I were ever to be a father, my children wouldn’t biologically be mine.” He swallowed, eyes searching. “I know we’ve never talked about this before, and it’s a big discussion. It should probably wait for a time when we’re not—”

“I don’t want kids,” I blurted, unable to contain the words as they spewed out of my mouth. Mal paused, considering me. I hurried on. “My career is important to me, and my life. And I don’t have the greatest parental role models. There are just so many other people and things that need my attention and I’m worried I’d fuck a kid up so bad and…and maybe it’s selfish, too. I like my life. I’m not sure I want to share it for the next eighteen years or whatever with someone I’ve never met.”

I gulped, steeling myself for the look of judgement or disbelief I’d received any other time I divulged this to other people, which was rare. He gave me nothing other than that quiet examination, like he was trying to see underneath my skin.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I nodded. The few people I’d discussed this with assured me I was just young and I’d change my mind when my “biological clock” started ticking. Well, time was still ticking and I still had zero desire to raise a child. “Trust me, I’ve thought about this a lot and, it might sound terrible, but it just doesn’t sound like something I want.”

“It doesn’t sound terrible.” Finally, his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. His jaw softened underneath my fingertips. “I don’t want kids, either.”

“You don’t? Are you sure?” I gasped. This was the first time anyone had ever believed me when I told them I didn’t want kids. Better, this was the first time anyone had ever agreed with me.

But it was Mal. He oozed stability and structure. He’d make a top-tier father—strong and supportive, fun and flexible. He seemed like the type of guy who would want kids. “Didn’t you just say if you were ever a dad, you’d adopt?”

“If. And that’s a big if. It would depend entirely on what my partner wanted and what we decided we wanted together.” He smiled down at me, like I was that partner. I wanted to be. Very badly. “If it were a deal breaker for the woman of my dreams, I could make it work. I just feel like my whole life is focused on serving other people. You know I love my job and helping where I can. I feel like I can do so much for this world, but I couldn’t imagine coming home at the end of a long day and having to take care of other people in my free time, too.”

“Yes,” I whispered. I’d never been able to articulate my feelings on it so clearly. His words rang around in my chest, so right it was almost painful. Mal had always made me feel seen, special. Now, I felt understood, too. He wasn’t telling me I should wait or reconsider. He got it.

Because he was right. I held people’s lives in my hands every day. I held their loved ones as they cried, and had already dealt enough with other people’s bowel movements to last a lifetime, without bringing an infant into the picture. I’d always known my calling was to take care of people. As long as I could remember, that hadn’t included a baby. My energy, my passion, my joy…it found me elsewhere.

“Yes,” he repeated, forehead pressing against mine. “And I have to say it’s a relief that the woman of my dreams feels the same.” Chocolate eyes gazed into mine. My heart skipped a beat.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” He grinned, pressing the softest kiss to my lips. “I love you. You are my future, too, Rija.”

My eyes screwed shut, despite never wanting to look away from the adoration shining down at me from his beautiful face. “You heard that?”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“I didn’t want to tell you like that,” I huffed, blinking my eyes open to frown at him. As he looked at my pout, his expression softened even more, if that was possible.

“So, tell me now, Kitten.”

“I love you, Mal. I love you so much sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. You’re the only person I want to share my life with. And my bed, and my dog and my sex toy collection.”

He was laughing now, a big wide grin spreading across his face while he showered me with kisses. I laughed, too, kissing him back whenever he got in range of my mouth.

“I was going to tell you after this all blew over,” I said, grabbing his hair and weaving my fingers through the short strands to hold him still. He kissed me again, his tongue darting between my teeth playfully.

“I’ve been waiting for years to tell you I loved you. I’m so glad I don’t have to wait any longer.”

“Years?” I’d loved Malachi for a long, long time. Maybe since the first night we’d met. I knew he liked me, sure. Was attracted to me. But love?

His smile grew. “Since the night we met, and you treated me like I’d run over your cat. You glared at me every time I tried to talk to you and I thought to myself, ‘That woman who hates me, I want to spend the rest of my life with her.’”

I sputtered with laughter, trying to cover my face. I could still remember that night two years ago, when it had seemed like only righteous indignation could protect my virtue from Malachi Dobrev. I was so glad he hadn’t let me hold him at arm’s length for too long.

He palmed my wrists to pull them off my cheeks, kissing me again, long and hard, like he wanted to seal this moment into his memory. “You’re the only one for me, Rija. You and me and Siggy. That’s the family I want.”

“That sounds perfect,” I whispered, pressing my face into his neck. He held me like that for several minutes, rocking back and forth some more. His hand swept up and down my spine again and again. “But you know Sonnie’s going to pitch a fit if she’s not included in there, too.”

His laugh rumbled under my shoulder. “That does sound perfect.”