31. Saar
Chapter 31
Saar
C orm roars and collapses beside me in his bed. We enjoyed several surfaces in his house, and I’m blissed out of my mind.
If I thought multiple orgasms would trigger my memory, I was wrong. What they triggered is much more tangible, though.
Connection.
Intimacy.
Tentative trust.
We revisited most of the places in the house. Well, Corm revisited, and I experienced anew. I learned my husband is dominant in the bedroom. Not shocking, knowing him.
More interesting is that I discovered I love it.
Surrendering to him. Belonging to him. Letting him draw pleasure from me, and for me.
“I guess I’m not going to divorce you yet.” I roll on to my stomach, teasing him as I kiss his shoulder.
“As if that was an option.” He slaps my ass.
The burn is delicious. “Of course, it’s an option.”
Silence filled with anticipation wraps around us. This time, it’s not our bodies that crave release; it’s our hearts and souls. Unsaid words, the need for commitment clings between us, stifling the air.
“I married you even after you hacked my feed. Even after I learned I don’t need my trust fund?” I repeat my question from earlier.
One that got sidetracked by my need to connect with him physically. I wanted to have sex with him because I hoped my body would remember how it felt.
While the sensations were mind-blowing, I’m still unsure how I used to feel about this man.
He sighs. “You stayed because you wanted to give us a real try.”
I lift my gaze to him. The torment in his eyes sucks oxygen from my lungs. I groan and turn on to my back, creating a distance I so desperately want to bridge. I don’t want to be hurting this man.
He turns to me abruptly like he’s going to pounce, but he stops himself, plopping back onto the mattress with another heavy sigh.
I wish he’d pounce. I wish he would cover my body with his. Trap me so I can’t escape into the void my mind has been.
At the same time, I’m grateful he didn’t pounce. He’s giving me space, but with more space, more doubts spring, and the endless cycle of uncertainty consumes me.
“And I didn’t even deserve it.” His voice is gruff. “You stayed, despite me being a bully who tried to control everything in our relationship. You wanted to give us a try. Maybe all of this happened because it was the wrong choice.”
He sits up. “But at least you needed me then. And I still failed to protect you. I still failed…”
He draws his legs closer to himself and rests his arms over his knees, his head bowed.
My heart… my very confused heart squeezes, his words searing my throat like I was the one pushing them out. A tear rolls down my cheek.
“And now, you came out of that horrible night stronger than ever, and I’m fucking lost and consumed by hope and fear. I hate it. I hate it so much, and still… still, it’s the only place I want to be.”
I push to sit beside him. “You said you love me,” I croak, and he looks at me bewildered. “It’s not just hope and fear you feel then.” I give him a small smile, my heart breaking.
Breaking with my inability to give him reassurance. To console this strong man who was brought down to his knees. Who dared to bare himself, and whose confession opened wounds inside me. And in some strange way, I know that it started the healing process as well.
His arms drop to his sides.
On my next breath, I feel his pinkie touching mine.
It may just be an accidental brush, but as if it were a lifeline, I hook my finger with his.
Our heads turn in sync. Our eyes meet. Our bodies lean toward each other.
I don’t think any of those movements are premeditated, but they just happen, like some invisible force draws us together.
“Maybe tonight was me giving us a real try?” The words barely make it out, my throat hurting with emotions.
He smiles and leans in to kiss me. The kiss grows languid and lazy, both of us exhausted from the sex marathon but unwilling to interrupt the tender sensual bond.
When I almost yawn into Corm’s mouth, he chuckles and gets on his back, and pulls me to him, arranging me on top of him. “Good night, The Morrigan.”
“I can’t sleep like this.” I slide to his side but wrap my leg over his. “That’s better.”
My head fits perfectly into the crook of his arm. It makes me unreasonably giddy. I guess my hormone-induced brain is playing tricks on me.
We lie in silence, spent but unable to sleep. At least, I’m not able. As I draw lazy circles on his chest, a realization dawns on me.
I’m wasting my time trying to remember. As if the lost memories could ground me. But it’s the new ones that anchor me. In my life. In our lives.
“I lied.” Corm’s words are like a cold shower over my new discovery.
“About?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know.
“Tonight... us… it wasn’t nothing. It meant everything to me.”
Something dislodges in my chest, freeing my heart. “It meant something to me, too.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “Something is better than nothing. I’ll take that.”
“What is it, Livia?”
I’m at the kitchen island drinking my coffee while trying to jot down notes for today’s podcast. I’ve been flying solo for my first few episodes, but today I have my first guests.
A famous artist, Andrea Cassinetti, with his wife, Ivy, are coming to talk about their community art classes. Ivy is younger than me, and she’s achieved so much in her life already. I can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by her.
Hence, I’m trying to be as prepared as possible, but Livia is hovering around like she has nothing better to do.
“You’re not going to eat your breakfast today?” the housekeeper asks.
“I’m too stressed. I’ll eat later.”
She huffs.
Sighing, I put the pen down. “What does it matter if I eat?”
“Mr. Quinn doesn’t like it when you don’t eat properly.”
I snort. “I’m not a child.”
“Well, but when you moved here, you were half fainting all the time, and he was worried about you and made sure you ate well.” She wipes the polished counter.
I don’t know what to say to that. Because I don’t remember fainting, but also because I know my iron deficiency used to be a bigger problem when I was still working runways.
Why Livia is mad about it is beyond me, though. “Corm made sure I eat.”
“Of course he did. He cares about you, poor man.”
“Poor? What’s your problem, Livia?”
She shrugs. “It’s horrible what happened to you.”
Instinctively, my hand rises to the scar on my upper arm. And what does that have to do with me not eating?
As if she realized she’s making no sense, she continues, “Not just your injury and your memory, which is horrible. But understandably, the focus is on you. Because you could have… Better not think about it. But that man is hurting, too, and who takes care of him?”
“I do,” I say defensively, and so quickly I surprise myself. That came out of nowhere. Or out of somewhere deep and real.
I do want to take care of him. Livia is right. Everything revolved around my recovery. Who was there for Corm?
If this thing between you doesn’t feel like a new beginning to you, please release him, so he can heal.
Deep down, in the hidden dark crevices of my heart, I know I belong with my husband. But can I trust that feeling? It’s like my mind requires evidence. But aren’t the last few weeks evidence enough?
What if it’s only been weeks? Clearly it took me only weeks to fall for him the first time. Or to at least have a real relationship amidst the fake marriage. At least that’s what he says.
Why do I need more proof? What am I afraid of?
Livia smiles like a Cheshire cat. Like she tricked me into admitting something I wasn’t willing to admit to myself yet. She probably did.
“I’m going to get ready. Would you please make me a sandwich for the road?”
“It will be my pleasure.” She opens the fridge.
“Oh, Livia, I’ll text you a list of ingredients for dinner. I’m cooking tonight.” I take my notepad. In the doorway, I turn to her. “Have I ever cooked for him before?”
She beams. “Yes.”
“Saar, so good to see you. What are you going to do with your first paycheck?” Nora, my very hands-off boss, asks when I walk into the studio.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.” My interview-related anxiety spikes.
She laughs. “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe down your neck. I only stopped by to say how grateful I am you decided to join the team.”
We only spoke over the phone since the injury, and probably before, I guess.
“It’s a wonderful opportunity. I love it.”
Frankly, this was the most wonderful surprise of my memory loss. That somehow, somewhere, I found the courage to be heard. To be seen for what I have to say instead of how I look.
I’m still in awe that I took the leap, if I’m being honest.
“You took your time, but you made the best decision. Good luck today.” She waves at our producer and leaves.
Before I think better of it, I call after her, “Nora, this may be a strange question. But I’m kind of surprised I took the opportunity. I just… I don’t remember…”
Shit. I should focus on my interview, not bothering her with my insecurities and confusion.
“When we met the first time, you were lost. As was I when I quit modeling. I guess you were just trying to find yourself again. It took you several weeks, but you finally called me and told me Cormac made you realize you needed to take the leap. I don’t know what that handsome husband of yours said or did, but the world is grateful.”
I lean against the wall, trying to piece the puzzle together. Something I promised myself not to try anymore.
New memories are what matters, but fuck the darkness—when it comes to my recent life, it is so frustrating.
“Look, Saar, I can’t imagine how you feel. But I know that the only way to live is by moving forward. You more than proved yourself, so who cares how you got here?”
I nod, smiling. She is right.
“Just don’t get shot again to improve your ratings.” She winks, and I gasp soundlessly. “Shit. Too early for that joke. I’m sorry, darling. You better go; your guests are here.”
I turn to find Andrea and Ivy Cassinetti walking down the long corridor. Fuck, they are a gorgeous couple.
He whispers something, and she rolls her eyes. He growls something I can’t hear, but his gaze on her is full of adoration. She shakes her head and then notices me.
“Oh my God, Saar, I’m so happy to meet you. And so freaking nervous about this.”
And just like that, I know this interview will go well.
And it does. We talk about their community art program, but also about Andrea’s addiction and recovery, and Ivy’s body image issues. They are both relatable and honest. And I fall in love with my new job a bit more.
“Thank you for being so authentic, and not shying away from issues.”
“My antics were well documented in the media, so at least now I own the narrative and hopefully will inspire someone,” Andrea says. His phone rings. “Excuse me, ladies.”
“Thank you, Ivy. You’re such an inspiration.” I shake her hand.
Her gaze, filled with adoration, follows her husband. “They say there is a woman behind every man’s success, but I think it works the other way. We’re often so insecure that it takes a domineering asshole to force us out of our safe cocoon.”
And suddenly, I know how to spend my first paycheck. Or some of it, anyway.
“Is everything okay?” Corm rounds his desk to meet me as I enter his office, rushing to me. He stops abruptly.
We’re now sleeping together, but he’s been very respectful to me outside the house. Like he’s waiting for me to truly commit before he hugs or kisses me out in the open. Perhaps he’s trying to protect himself. Or just being as confused as me.
I don’t think I’m confused anymore.
I snake my arms around his waist. “Nothing is wrong.”
He startles, but immediately responds to my touch and wraps me in a hug, kissing me. Just a peck on the mouth, but I dart my tongue out.
He doesn’t need more of an invitation. A guttural sound rumbles through his chest before he dives into the kiss.
It’s a perfect kiss. Full of need and relief. Filled with urgency, and an equal amount of peace. It’s a kiss to remember.
To never forget.
It’s like we came together after a long dance of hesitancy and darkness, and suddenly, the kiss brings the light. To our hearts and our souls.
“What a pleasant surprise.” He cups my face and stares at me.
His gaze, as always, starts small explosions all over my body. I almost forget why I came here.
“I got my first paycheck, and I’m treating you to lunch. Larissa says you’re available.”
“You’re taking me for lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Is it my magical cock?”
“Definitely.” I turn to leave, before we end up testing the magic of his cock.
“I should have fucked you the minute you woke up.”
I snort, but my retort dies on my lips. “What is this?”
I’m not sure why I’m asking since it’s obvious. A large black-and-white candid photograph by one of the most sought-after photographers hangs on the wall above the sofa. It fits the space perfectly.
I remember when it was taken. I remember why I was laughing. I remember signing the release form for it.
“It’s a photograph I got at a charity auction.” He turns to get his jacket, avoiding my eyes.
I bite my lips, a grin forming. “But that was like two or three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Did you get any other pieces at that auction?”
The photographer donated a collection for that event and called me afterward to tell me that mine went for double the amount of any of the other pieces. I didn’t think much of it. I was overbooked at that time, so I was happy my face got more money for a good cause.
“No.”
I don’t hide my grin anymore. “And you had it here for years?”
He groans. “It was in storage, but I like it here.” He sighs, rolling his eyes. “I had it at home, but I took it down before you moved in.”
“Why?” My lips tremble with a chuckle I try to stifle.
He looks at me, deadpan. “Like I needed you to think I stalked you.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Are we going or what?” he snaps, and I giggle.
“Well, I stalked you way before that.” I point at the photograph. “I wanted you to take me to a high school dance.” For the first time, I don’t feel stupid mentioning my teenage crush.
He smiles—and fuck, he should do that more often—and pulls me in for a hug. “Sorry it took me so long to catch up.” His lips graze my forehead.
“Did we have this conversation before?”
He lowers his forehead to mine. “Some of it.”
“It’s a bit unfair; you get to live this twice.” I kiss him.
“It’s better this time around.”
“If I knew you were taking me for burritos…” Corm complains in the car.
“You’re so spoiled. You had two of them. You loved them.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m not spoiled. I like to enjoy life in style and luxury. To the fullest.”
“Sometimes you find the best things at the market, not in a Michelin-starred restaurant. But living to the fullest is something I’m learning.”
He smiles at me, with something in his eyes I can’t discern. Pride?
“What’s with the face?”
“I love seeing you reaching for the stars.”
Oh, my poor heart. Having his support means more than I thought I needed.
The car comes to a stop while I still deal with an onslaught of emotions.
“Where are we?” I frown.
“Picking up something.” He helps me out of the car and leads me to an animal shelter.
“So nice to see you, Saar. Rolfie missed you, and so did Coco. She grew so much.” A woman greets us.
“This is Ethel, the manager here,” Corm says.
Ethel startles, but then I guess she fills in the blanks. She then explains how we know each other.
She tells me about our photo op and my volunteering here. I wish I remember that.
But then, I’m here now. He brought me here, and that’s what matters.
“Wow, she really grew up.” Corm looks at the little ginger cat with caution like she’s going to bite him.
I giggle and take her from Ethel. Coco settles against me, purring immediately. “Oh my God, she is adorable.”
“Are you ready to take her home?” Ethel asks.
My eyes widen, and I look at Corm, who looks like he’s regretting this visit already. “I guess so,” he grumbles.
I squeal, and Coco bares her claws in protest. “Hey, little one, you’re coming home with us.” I rub her head and she settles again. “We don’t have anything at home. What do we even need?”
“I have some supplies you can take, and I’ll email you some links to give you the list of essentials,” Ethel says. “Or you can study up a bit, get things for her, and come back in a few days.”
I bite my lip, the sense of responsibility fighting with the affection I already have for this kitten.
“We’ll take her now.” Corm sighs, not even trying to hide his annoyance.
“He’ll fall in love in no time,” Ethel whispers to me.
“And you mentioned Rolfie?”
“We’re not getting a dog,” Corm says, in that tone of his that doesn’t leave room for negotiation.
I roll my eyes. “Yet,” I murmur.
“Saar,” he warns. I guess he heard me.
Ethel takes me to Rolfie’s kennel. The small, white mutt is curled in the farthest corner, but when we approach, his tail wags and he lifts his ears.
“Wow, there is something between the two of you. He’s been so apathetic, and now look at him.”
Coco fidgets in my hands. “I’ll come back tomorrow to spend time with him if that’s okay, Ethel.”
“That would be wonderful. Before your injury, it looked like he might allow you to take him for a walk.”
“Let’s try to build his trust again.”
We join Corm, who is on his phone in the front office.
Ethel puts Coco in a carrier. “Let me prepare some food and litter for you.”
“No need. I got everything organized while I was waiting. Everything should arrive in two hours.” Corm puts his phone into his pocket.
“Oh my.” Ethel gasps, probably shocked at what money can do.
We get into Corm’s car, and I snuggle against him. “Thank you.”
It was quite obvious he didn’t care much about the visit or Coco, but he did this for me.
“You can thank me on your knees later.”
I lick my lips, desire immediately swarming inside me. “I was planning to cook for you, and the cat will need supervision to adapt to new surroundings, so I’m not sure if—”
He grips the back of my neck and turns me to face him. “It’s my cock that you will have down your throat tonight, even if I have to hire a fucking cat sitter.”
It’s the most delicious threat I’ve ever heard. “I don’t know,” I tease.
“Are you telling me your pussy isn’t weeping right now, begging to be mine?” he whispers into my ear, and said pussy clenches. Drenched, no less.
Based on the tent in Corm’s pants, we’re both affected, and I hope Livia is still home to take care of Coco.
The car stops in front of the house. Corm helps me out, and I lean in to pull out the carrier with sleeping Coco.
He moves to cover me like a bodyguard. He’s been doing that every time we get out of the car together.
With the reinforced security, there is no chance someone would sneak in and shoot at us again, but I guess we both have post-traumatic responses that help us cope.
I practically feel the anxious energy radiating from him each time we stand here. It’s kind of ironic how, among all the memories I don’t have, this one is the most prevalent. I don’t recall the events, but I have a memory of it. In my scar. In the black space in my mind.
A sense of resolution grips me as I realize I need to rewrite this particular memory. Otherwise, I would remain the victim. I’m not giving that to Vito. I deserve better.
“Corm.” I put the carrier on the ground.
He puts his hand on the small of my back, trying to usher me in as quickly as possible, as he’s been doing whenever we are here.
I stop. “No, wait. I need to tell you something.”
He opens his mouth, but then closes it. Like he wants to order me to go inside, but feels my urgency to stay here.
“I think I’m falling,” I say.
He blinks a few times. Then looks down and scans my body, before he understands what I’m trying to say.
He steps closer and cups my face, his own lit up. “I’ll catch you, The Morrigan. I’m right here. I’ll always be here.”
“Even if I don’t remember us?”
“Always. I’ll love you even if I have to introduce myself to you every single day. You don’t need to remember the past, Saar, I’m only asking you to embrace the future. You’re my future. I love you, baby.”