Chapter 29
When Bert undressed her, Mary wanted to be comfortable, but it was to no avail. His kisses made her almost forget everything she couldn’t do, but she couldn’t conquer the fear. Once they were on the bed and all clothes were cast aside, she craved his lips and hands on her breasts.
Her breasts were sensitive, and as the electricity zipped through her body, she rejoiced that she could feel more than she’d feared.
Her sensation wasn’t completely gone, but it was different.
She gasped while arching, holding him tighter.
Pleasure zinged through her, ending with a light flutter in her core.
“I can feel that,” Mary said, wonder in her voice. “Bert, I can actually feel… it’s faint, but… something—”
“I know, sweetheart. I can tell.” Bert kissed her deeply. “You’re perfect. This is perfect. We’re figuring it out.”
She could see his arousal, but when her fingers closed around him, she grinned as his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.
“You’ve got to stop,” he groaned, “or this will be over before it starts.”
He then shifted back to a crouch and placed his hands on her legs. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” she panted. “Please… just move my legs apart. I want to cradle you but can’t do it on my own.”
He gently assisted carefully before rolling on a condom. Then he settled his body between them. Her hands held his shoulders, her fingers digging in, holding on tightly. Their gazes met, and she knew he was waiting for her to give him the sign. She smiled and nodded. “Yes… please… I want you now.”
He slowly joined her with such tenderness, and she felt a tear slide down to the pillow. She wished she could wrap her legs around his waist, but then a delicate sense of pressure sent all other thoughts from her mind.
She wasn’t sure she could feel a release, but she no longer cared.
The fullness she experienced was something she didn’t think she could have again.
And now, she just wanted to give him all of her.
There were awkward moments and a few adjustments, but everything was theirs.
Real, raw, and honest. Full of love and trust.
And as he kept his weight off her chest with his arms pressed into the mattress, she watched in fascination as his eyes held hers. Then, slowly, they both came together.
More tears slid down her cheeks, and Bert held her through it, seeming to understand these were tears of joy and the release of years of fear. “I can do this,” she kept saying. “We can do this. It works, Bert. We work.”
“We do,” Bert agreed, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheeks, her lips. “We absolutely do. And Mary? That was incredible. You’re incredible.”
They lay tangled together afterward, Mary’s head on Bert’s chest and his arms wrapped protectively around her. The ship rocked gently beneath them, and outside the window, stars wheeled overhead in a clear sky.
“I love you.” Her voice was drowsy and content. “Thank you for being patient. For making me feel beautiful and wanted and like my body isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
“I love you too.” His hand stroked her back in soothing circles.
“And Mary? Your body is something to be celebrated. Everything you’ve survived, everything you’ve overcome, everything you’ve adapted to—that’s not something to hide or be ashamed of.
That’s strength and courage and determination. That’s beautiful.”
They fell asleep. His arms wrapped around her as she lay on her back, the fear and uncertainty that had shadowed their relationship finally released. They’d figured it out. Not perfectly and not without challenges, but they’d done it together with honesty and trust and love.
Tomorrow would be a new day with new challenges. But tonight was just for them. For discovery and connection and proving that love and trust could overcome any obstacle, adapt to any challenge, and create something beautiful, even when things weren’t quite the way they used to be.
Tonight, they were simply Mary and Bert. Two people who’d found each other against all odds and refused to let fear or complications or anything else stand in the way of building something real.
And that was worth everything.
Mary woke wrapped in Bert’s arms. Her memories of the night before made her smile even before she opened her eyes.
Last night had been... a revelation. Not just the physical intimacy they’d finally shared, but the emotional trust that had made it possible.
And it had been more than she’d dared to hope for.
“Good morning,” Bert murmured against her hair, his voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning.” Mary turned her head to look into his eyes and kissed him softly. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I have in my entire life.” Bert’s hand slid into her hair, deepening the kiss. “How are you feeling? Any soreness or discomfort I should know about?”
Mary appreciated that he asked and gave her space to voice any concerns without making it awkward. “I’m good. Really good, actually.”
“That’s what I was going for.” Bert grinned, boyish and pleased.
They lingered in bed longer than they should have, exchanging lazy kisses and quiet conversation, neither wanting to leave the cocoon they’d created.
But eventually reality intruded in the form of Mary’s stomach growling and the knowledge that they needed to maintain their surveillance of Colin and Diane.
The dining room was moderately busy when they arrived, passengers lingering over coffee and discussing the day’s planned excursions. But as Mary scanned the space, she noticed an absence that immediately set off alarm bells.
Diane wasn’t at her usual table. Colin came in later, working his way through the buffet breakfast. “Good morning,” Colin said as he passed by.
“Please, join us,” Mary encouraged with a smile.
He slid into an empty seat at their table, his smile pleasant but somehow not reaching his eyes.
“Where’s Diane?” Mary asked, settling her wheelchair at the table while Bert took the seat beside her. “Is she feeling alright?”
“Aunt Diane had a restless night, I’m afraid. She’s resting in her cabin.” Colin took a sip of his coffee. “I checked on her before coming down. She’s fine, just tired. I’ll take breakfast to her.”
“I’d like to visit her,” Mary said, making the offer sound casual rather than investigative. “I’m finished with my breakfast.” She turned to Bert and placed her hand on his arm. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart?”
“Of course not,” Bert said easily, also smiling.
Colin’s expression tightened before settling back into pleasant agreeability. “I’m sure she’d enjoy that. Aunt Diane has been quite fond of you, Mary.”
“Perfect.” Mary leaned over and accepted a light kiss from Bert before rolling back from the table.
Once she made it to Diane’s door, she knocked as she called out her identity.
“Oh, Mary. Come on in,” came the reply.
Rolling in, she found Diane propped up in bed, pillows arranged behind her, wearing an elegant dressing gown. She looked pale but alert, her silver hair perfectly styled despite the claim that she’d just woken. Her phone was in her hand.
“Mary, how lovely!” Diane’s smile was warm and genuine. “Colin texted to say you were coming to visit. I’m sorry I missed breakfast.”
“Don’t apologize. We all need extra rest sometimes.” Mary rolled closer to the bed, positioning herself where she could see Diane clearly. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better now that I’ve had some sleep. I was restless last night—couldn’t settle, my mind just wouldn’t stop racing.” Diane gestured to the table beside the bed. “Colin said he would bring breakfast, and we can share some tea when he comes.”
Mary nodded, wheeling closer.
“I’m glad you came,” Diane said quietly. “I love my nephew, but sometimes he… hovers.” She laughed, seeming to force gaiety into her tone, waving her ring-clad fingers around. “Sometimes…”
“Sometimes what?” Mary prompted gently.
“Sometimes us women just need a little time alone, don’t we?
” Diane’s hands twisted in the blanket. “That sounds ungrateful, doesn’t it?
After everything he’s done, taking time away from his life to travel with me, handling all the complicated financial matters I can’t seem to keep straight anymore. ”
“It doesn’t sound ungrateful,” Mary said carefully. “It sounds like you still want as much independence as possible.”
“Yes. The lack of full mobility is challenging. Both to manage and then to maintain some control.” Diane was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant as she nodded.
Then she seemed to shake herself, her social mask sliding back into place.
“Goodness, I’m maudlin this morning. Tell me about you and Bert.
You two are so lovely together. It reminds me of Robert and myself. ”
Mary recognized the deflection for what it was. Diane was pulling back from too many emotions rising all at once. So Mary played along, sharing how she and Bert had met in Montana, and how their friendship had gradually become something more.
“He learned to dance with you,” Diane said, her eyes warm. “That’s not something just anyone would do, Mary. That’s love.”
“It is,” Mary agreed. “He sees past my wheelchair to me. Makes adaptations feel natural rather than accommodations I should be grateful for.”
“That’s rare.” Diane’s expression turned wistful. “My late husband was like that. Robert never made my arthritis feel like a burden, even when it progressed to the point where I needed a wheelchair. He just adapted, made things work, loved me exactly as I was.”
“You miss him.”