46. Anderson
46
ANDERSON
I t makes no sense, but as we leave Dad’s office, somehow, my bones feel lighter. In fact, it’s easier to stand straight, even though I’ve always had good posture. Miraculously, the world looks … different. Brighter. Better.
Is this what relief feels like?
“Why are you smiling like that?” June asks as we get into my car.
Didn’t know I was, but when I look in the mirror, she’s right. I’m practically grinning. “I think … I think I feel good.”
She chuckles. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“No, I mean … ” It takes me a moment to put together the words. In some ways, it makes no sense for me to care this much, but I do. Perhaps we all have that inner child, always seeking their parents’ approval of their partner. “Having cleared your name and the air with Dad, I feel good. Like, really, inexplicably good. Like I’m not weighed down anymore.”
“Was I really such a burden?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t mean it like that, baby. He knows everything now. Whatever he decides to do with that knowledge, it’s on him. If he writes me out of the will, if he opens his arms to you, it’s his choice. He has all the facts, and if he uses them to be cruel, there’s nothing I can say or do to change that, but also, if he does, then Mom and Cole will judge him harshly for it. I think that’s what’s always been missing from my family.”
“Their judgment?”
“Consequences for his actions.” I start the car and pull out of the space to get us on the road, taking my time with everything. Now that I’m unburdened, the tension is gone from my neck and shoulders, and I have to adjust my seat and mirror positioning to make up for the change.
I had no idea how much this stress had affected me until it was gone.
I explain, “Dad has always been able to do whatever he wanted and expected us to fall in line. The times we didn’t, we were the ones in trouble. Now that he has no excuses to be such an asshat to you and me, if he doesn’t straighten up, I feel confident they will tell him all about it.”
“If—"
“More importantly,” I interrupt to save her from saying something wrong, “he likes you.”
She laughs bitterly. “What?”
“He does. He won’t say it now, and he may never say the words out loud, but he does. Otherwise, he would have had security escort us out. Don’t expect an apology … ever. But he would have made his feelings known if he still held that grudge against you.”
She licks her lips, deep in thought. “So, you’re practically giddy because your father did not have us taken away by security?”
“Yes.”
“You have a shockingly low bar for what makes a positive interaction with your father.”
I snort a laugh. “Are you kidding? That was the best meeting I’ve ever had with the man.”
“Then let me reiterate what I just said.”
“This is good news, June. Be positive. We should celebrate. Stop trying to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.”
“You cannot think that was a positive meeting?—"
“It was!”
She face palms. “Okay, then tell me you’re not planning to parent our own children that way.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Thank god!” she says, laughing.
I smirk and drive us toward a nice pub I like on this side of town. “There will be no passive-aggressive shit, no jumping through hoops for our approval, no arbitrary punishments, none of that. The bar is in hell for my father, but I plan to hold myself to a far higher standard. And you.”
She gives my thigh a squeeze. “Same.”
“We won’t be perfect. I’m not na?ve enough to think so. No parents are perfect. But my folks have given me a pretty good road map of how not to be.”
“Your dad, sure, but I love your mom.”
It warms me to hear that. “So do I, but she’s not perfect, either.”
“How so?”
“She enables Dad’s bullshit. Always has. Sometimes, she tries to rein him in, but it never amounts to much. He’s too dominant for her to manage. I wish she had more influence over him, but she doesn’t.”
June counters, “On the other hand, imagine how bad he’d be without her around to rein him in. I have a feeling Kitty polishes his sharper edges.”
The thought of Dad without Mom around is a bleak one. “For the love of Boston, I hope he dies before she does. The world does not need him in it without her around.”
“Hard agree,” she says, nodding.
I park just outside of Clair’s. “Thought we could get a drink to celebrate if you’re up for it.”
“Sounds good.”
Clair’s is a black fa?ade-fronted hole-in-the-wall of a pub, complete with hardwood floors, green interior walls, and a copper tile ceiling. It smells like old beer and spilled whiskey, and the fireplace in the back corner is always burning in winter. The furniture is worn from too many butts and elbows. The server catches our order as we take off our scarves.
In short, it’s lovely.
I ask June, “So, how many?”
She gives me a confused brow. “Well, I thought I’d start with one single-malt?—"
“No, sorry.” I’m in too good of a mood to stay on track, apparently. “How many kids do you want?”
June’s surprised laugh makes me smile. “I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant before, and I don’t know how my body will handle it. If it goes badly … I don’t want to say a number.”
“But if it goes well?”
A shy smile creeps over her lips. “I’m not sure. I kind of love the idea of having four or five of our own. Maybe more.”
The hesitation in her tone reminds me of when we talk about sex. She’s too worried about my opinion to say what she really wants. So, I call her on it. “Did you say four or five because you thought a higher number would freak me out?”
Her smirk sends me. What did I ever do to deserve seeing that expression on her perfect face? She admits, “Maybe.”
“How many do you actually want?”
“I don’t?—"
“June!”
She huffs. “At least six. I think.”
Wow, holy shit. But I keep my expression placid?—
“See?” she asks, pointing at me. That’s why I didn’t want to say it! You look horrified!”
I laugh, too excited to do much else. “I’m not, actually. The thought of … ” I take a breath to keep my erection from tearing through my trousers. “The thought of seeing you, swollen with my child inside of you … ” My mouth is dry. Is it hot in here?
The server delivers our drinks, and I slug mine back in one go, ordering another. When she leaves, I lean in and quietly tell June, “If we weren’t in a place I love, I’d take you to that bathroom and get you pregnant right here, right now.”
June’s cheeks flush pink. “I thought it was too soon for that kind of thing.”
“It is. It really is. And I have to keep reminding myself of that, or I will do something inadvisable. I have to think about this strategically, or I’ll lose my mind trying to knock you up. I’ll never let you out of the bed. So, it’s a good thing my second drink is almost here.” The server delivers the next one, and I take my time with it. Her cheeks have darkened by the time I’m sipping. “What is it?”
Her words are almost a whisper. “The thought of being tied to the bed for you to use whenever you feel like, it … ”
A growl escapes me before I can catch it. My throat is completely dry, but now I’m worried about making a wet spot on my trousers. “Saying things like that when we are too far from home to do anything about them is cruel, young lady.”
She nibbles her bottom lip as she half-smirks, and I’m going to have to punish her for that later. But I’m certain she’ll enjoy it. “Guess we’ll have to negotiate all of that when we get home.”
If she keeps this up, I will drag her to the bathroom, regardless of wanting to come back to Clair’s. I have to switch gears. “Erm, so our wedding?—
She laughs. “That was one hell of a non sequitur.”
“Entirely your own fault. I have to change topics, or we will jump to the baby-making right now.” I rake my fingers through my hair, desperate for any change in stimulus. My cock is still aching for her attention. “Are you still up for eloping?”
Her head bobs enthusiastically. “I want our wedding day to be about us. Given your father’s side work, I don’t want it to become a day of business deals between him and our guests, and I suspect that’s how it would be. I have no desire to have my father walk me down the aisle—we’re only barely back on speaking terms, and I never dreamed of that in the first place. My mom will probably be bummed, but it’s not like she’s a big part of my life, so really, the only person I’m worried about disappointing is your mom, but you don’t seem too worried about that.”
I shake my head, grateful for talking about our parents. Thinking of them kills my boner. “She won’t like it, but given our situation, I think she’ll understand. Besides, I’m not getting married to make them happy. I’m doing it because I want to marry you. The truth is, I wasn’t sure I’d ever marry?—"
“Why?”
Time for a little truth, I guess. “June, I have been in love with you since we met. I know I didn’t show it, but I was. Before we started seeing each other, I figured I’d never get married because no one else could live up to the fantasy of you in my head. The thought of marrying someone else didn’t feel fair—like I’d be setting them up for failure. I certainly didn’t want to have kids with someone else.” Tears glisten in her eyes, and it sends a rush of panic through me, so I take her hand in mine. “Did I say something wrong?”
But she smiles and wipes a tear away. “No. You said a lot of things right.”
That must have been relief I felt earlier, because I feel it again now. I give her hand a gentle squeeze before sitting properly. “You’re it for me. Now and always.”
“You are, too, you know.”
“Good to know.”
“Courthouse good for you?”
I nod. “Just need to make it official, right?”
“Yeah.” She pauses nervously. “Soon?”
“Yes.”