Chapter 9 #2
Matt must have done his mind reading trick because he walked out the kitchen with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Planning on getting me drunk?” I teased as we fell into step together.
“Maybe,” he replied with a wicked grin.
“I’ve noticed how uninhibited you act when under the influence of alcohol. That works to my advantage.”
I noticed him sneaking peeks at my ass and I immediately went on guard.
“I said no, Matt. Not now, not ever. When I get to the pearly gates, my ass will be pure.”
He shrugged and quickened his pace towards the stairs.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, poppet.”
It was my turn to sneak glances at his butt, and oh what an impressive butt it was.
By the time we were naked in the tub I was ready to risk a water injury in return for orgasmic bliss.
Matt was having none of it.
He handed me a glass of red wine then proceeded to rub my feet under the water.
The tub was large enough that we didn’t have to sit at opposite ends for him to do so.
Heck, you could easily fit four people in the tub.
“And she said I had turned into a spiteful person who had forgotten what it was to be a normal person with problems.”
I was on my second glass of wine and Matt had finished my feet and worked his way up to my thighs.
He was taking his time while he listened patiently as I recounted my day, only offering murmurs of sympathy interspersed with soft kisses.
“Normal,” I continued to rant.
“What’s normal these days? I’m a normal person.”
“You’re not normal, poppet.” Matt finally spoke up.
His skin was a nice shade of pink from the heat swirling around us.
“You’re extraordinary and she doesn’t sound like a nice person at all. You should be thankful she’s no longer in your employment.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the rolled up towel.
“I feel bad though.”
“Don’t.” Matt replied as his fingers crept over my inner thighs.
He pushed them apart gently and moved in closer.
“Do you think I’ve changed?” My eyes stayed closed.
“People change all the time. Some for the better, others maybe not. Look at me for instance.”
I popped one eye open, taking a sip from my glass.
The heat coupled with the wine was having a nice effect on me.
Matt’s hands running over my skin was the icing on top.
“I’ve changed immensely since knowing you.” His fingers were touching me intimately now.
The surrounding water made everything more intense, any movement causing small ripples that lapped against us.
“How so?” I asked after taking another sip.
Matt reached over to take my drink and place it next to his untouched one.
Hmm, he was trying to get me drunk.
“I’m less of a judgemental arse with people,” he said thoughtfully.
“You’ve softened me.”
I closed my eye.
“Like with Raheem?” The touching stopped.
Damn.
Should’ve kept my mouth shut.
I opened both eyes now.
“We discussed this last week, Madi.”
“I know, I know,” I sat up and straddled him.
“And I wasn’t referring to it in a bad light, what I meant,” I kissed his cheek.
“Was that we both raised our points,” I took a tiny nip of his earlobe.
“And came to an understanding.” I kissed down his neck.
“You’re overly sensitive whenever this topic comes up.”
Matt placed his hands on my shoulder and gently pushed back so he could see me.
The water lapped against the edge of the tub.
“It’s a sensitive topic.” he said quietly.
“I’ve got so much to learn and I feel like an ignorant arse whenever I make a mistake. You know I feel uncomfortable discussing race with you.”
I stuck my tongue out to lighten the mood.
Matt wrinkled his face at my antics.
“There will be times when it crops up.” I warned.
“Like when we have children?” he asked with grey eyes showing a glint of future worry.
Children?
The fuck was he talking about?
I rose up in shock, so sudden was my movement that my knees weren’t stable and I ended falling back into the water.
Only Matt’s grip on my arm kept me from going under completely.
Half my head was soaked though.
“Wha- what?” I spluttered, frantically dabbing at the bubbles on one side of my face.
“Kids? But you don’t want kids.”
Matt cocked his head at me.
“Of course I want children, poppet. Don’t you?”
At my growing silence his beautiful face underwent a startling transformation.
From surprise to uncertainty, then disbelief seeped in, it finally settled on open horror.
“Madison,” He abruptly let my arm go.
The moment I was free I scooted back.
The water splashed over the tub, so agitated were my movements.
“Don’t you want to have children with me?” he asked quietly.
“I - I - we never talked about this, Matt. You never told me you wanted children.” I stammered.
Matt ran a wet hand through his hair as we stared at each other.
“When we met, children were the furthest thing from my mind,” He glanced away for a second before returning his piercing gaze to my face.
“But I love you, we’re married and I’ll be 38 this year. Of course I bloody want children. Don’t you?”
Did I?
“Poppet?” Matt moved towards me and I scooted back further, it was instinctive.
He froze in the water, noting my demeanour.
“Matt, I’m a ballerina!”
“And?” he asked in a dark voice.
His shock was being replaced by something else.
Something that made me want to get the hell out of the tub.
“It’s my career and kids don’t work with my career,” I was shrieking.
The suddenness of this conversation was freaking me out.
One minute we were talking about understanding and accepting certain things about our different races; the next minute it was kids.
What the fuck was going on in the tub?
“You don’t want to start a family with me?” Matt moved again, this time it was away from me.
Good.
I didn’t want to be close to him during this surreal moment.
“Matt,”
“Answer the bloody question.” The tone of his voice was teetering on a shout.
“My body will change,” I yelled back.
“My hips will get wide. Are you insane? It’s a small amount of dancers who become pregnant during their performing years and that’s because our career is so intense, so self-focused. Having a baby will take me offstage for more than a frigging year! I’ve heard stories of women who did it and came back with a multitude of injuries. Back problems, ligament and tendon injuries…all these things that they never experienced before giving birth. And the career of a dancer is short. Do you know the average retirement age of a dancer is 29? I’m 27 already, probably only have a few years left, if I’m lucky. Who’s going to take care of the baby? Are you going to be a stay at home dad? Or are we going to have nannies looking after these kids you want? What’s the point of having kids if you’re just going to palm them over to someone else?”
I inhaled sharply.
I wasn’t alarmed, I was terrified.
How could we not be on the same page with this?
Forget race issues.
Black, white, purple, green.
All that shit paled in comparison when it came to getting knocked up.
I couldn’t become a parent.
I didn’t have that knowledge.
What if I was a bad mom?
My own mother was long dead, and my aunt who raised me probably hated my guts now.
There was no doubt I would be a bad mom…
mess the poor kid up for life with my craziness.
“And what about my weight? You know a ballerina has to be a certain weight. It’s only by sheer luck the weight doesn’t seem to stay on me even if I sometimes eat crap. That might change if I get pregnant. You never told me you wanted kids.”
Matt’s throat bobbed up and down.
His breathing was steady, as if he was trying to calm himself down.
Well, good for him.
I wasn’t calm.
I felt as if he’d pulled a fast one on me.
Duped me.
Tricked me.
He was a trickster.
“I’ll be 38 this year,” he repeated.
“And I want to enjoy playing with my children as they grow up sans the worry of being too old to run about after them. I’ll be 38, Madison.”
“So what?” I was pressed against the opposite end of the tub now, as far away from him I could get within its confines.
“It’s not my fault you’re older than me.”
Matt stood up abruptly, the water cascaded down his naked body in a manner that would make anyone say ‘hot damn’.
Female and male alike.
Not me though.
I was too far into my freak out stage to pay attention to the way the rivulets of water accentuated the lines of his chest, the chiselled planes of his stomach, the…
I kept my eyes above neck level.
“I think it’s best for us to discontinue this conversation,” Matt advised as he got out the tub and reached for a towel.
“At least until we’ve both calmed down.”
Then he stormed out the en-suite leaving me alone.
A loud, angry sob fell from my lips as I sat in the tub.
Why were we always fighting?
This wasn’t the way marriage was supposed to be.
At least not for a few years.
And this baby crap.
He couldn’t be serious.
The manner in which he spoke gave the impression of him wanting to have a child ASAP, and Matthew Bradley always got what he wanted.
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
I jumped out the tub and literally slid over to the bathroom cabinet.
With shaking hands I yanked it open and pulled out my birth control pills.
My mind was a mess and I needed visual confirmation I had taken one this morning.
I had.
Thank you, Jesus.
But that didn’t stop me from dry swallowing another one with a desperation borne of sheer fear.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Why had that saying popped into my disjointed thoughts?
Was it because it had been coined by the English writer Alexander Pope and I was living in England right now?
Ok, that was grasping at straws.
I was freaking out and seriously considering whether I had made a colossal mistake…
for the umpteenth time since we returned from our honeymoon.
The tiles were wet beneath my feet as the water dripped down my naked body.
I put the pills back then slowly made my way over to empty the bath water.
Matt had never given me any indication that he wanted kids, not once.
What did this mean for us as a married couple?
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
How much about the man I had wedded did I actually know?
I loved him, with every fibre of my being, but sometimes love wasn’t enough.
Compatibility was key, communication was key.
Did we have either?
Marry in haste, repent at leisure .
Damn it!
Another scary quote had popped up in my head.
This one also coined by another Englishman.
What was his name?
Ah yes, William Congreve.
“I’ve lost my mind.” I mumbled out loud.
On that unsettling note, I grabbed a towel and dried off before cautiously leaving the en-suite to get dressed.
Thankfully, Matt was not in our bedroom.
I stayed upstairs for an hour, only venturing downstairs when I was certain George had returned from his errands.
There was safety in numbers.
Matt, true to his word, had made dinner for me.
I could smell the delicious scent of beef within seconds of entering the hallway.
My handsome husband was walking out the kitchen as I was coming towards it.
“I was just on my way to get you,” he said.
“Dinner’s ready.”
The look we shared was an uncomfortable one.
Heavy, tense, unspoken turmoil.
“Ok.” That was all I could manage to say.
Dinner was filled with silence.
The only noise came from the clinking of our utensils as we ate.
I wished George would join us but knew he wouldn’t dare.
“We should get an early night.” Matt was staring at the half-filled decanter while I fiddled with the steak on my plate.
“Ok.” I mumbled, mentally berating myself for not using a wider range of vocabulary.
What should I say?
Sorry, I don’t want to pop your babies out?
Yeah, that would go down like a lead balloon.
Matt looked over at me and the shadows lingering in his grey eyes hurt my soul.
“I, uh,” I pushed back my chair.
“I’m going to head up now.”
“You’ve not finished your food, Madi.” Matt said.
“I’m stuffed.” I went to grab my plate and Matt reached out for my hand but stopped just shy of touching me.
“Leave it. George will clear up after.” he said.
“Ok.”
“Madi, I,” Matt paused and the air caught in my throat.
A twisted smile flickered over his face.
It carried a distinct edge of bitterness.
He regarded me for a second then said, “I’ll see you up there.”
With a quick nod I turned on my heels and tried not to run out the kitchen.
When I walked into our bedroom, the bed seemed to mock me.
It was laughing at me, evilly planning exactly where any procreation would take place.
The middle of the mattress?
Maybe the bottom?
I glared at the bed then went into the walk-in closet to change into some pyjamas.
Getting into bed while knowing Matt would soon be up caused a ball of tension the size of a boulder to settle in my gut.
Great, just great.
By the time he came to bed my nerves were shot to hell.
I squinted at him as he strode into the closet to change.
When he came back out in nothing more than silk bottoms, I pretended to be asleep.
Matt turned off all the lights and got into the bed with me.
There was space between us, no more than a couple of feet, but it felt like much more.
The stiffness of my body was uncomfortable, lying perfectly still was a chore and I cursed sleep for eluding me.
After what may have been an hour I couldn’t bear it anymore.
“Do you hate me now?” I asked softly, dreading his answer.
I twisted over to flick on the bedside lamp then turned back on my side to face him.
Matt was lying on his back.
At first glance you would think he was asleep but I knew he wasn’t.
A few minutes passed before he turned his head in my direction and opened his eyes.
“Don’t be silly.” he murmured then he turned the rest of his body in my direction.
There was still space between us, space and the duvet, at least we were maintaining eye contact.
That in itself was upsetting.
The sadness pouring out from the depths of his eyes felt akin to a blade through my heart.
I had caused that look, that pain.
A selfish witch.
Yes, it seemed those traits dwelled within me, but I couldn’t agree to something I didn’t want, probably would never want.
“I didn’t know, Matt,” My voice was thick with unshed tears.
He was hurting and it was my fault.
“You didn’t tell me you wanted kids.”
That bitter smile of his made an appearance, causing the blade in my heart to twist painfully.
“No, I didn’t,” he confirmed.
“Things progressed so quickly between us and I assumed you would also want these things. A mistake on my part.”
Damn.
He really had a knack for instilling guilt in me.
I blinked slowly, longing to touch him but holding back.
“Maybe we should have talked about these things before getting married. I mean…this is a big problem, isn’t it?”
Matt rubbed the back of his neck, he lowered his lashes for a second and shielded the emotions in his eyes.
When he returned his stare to me it was unreadable, as was his reply.
“Maybe we should have.”
“Did we make a mistake?” I asked in a shaky voice.
He didn’t answer immediately and his gaze slipped away from mine once more.
As the seconds dragged by I almost choked on a sharp intake of breath.
Matt’s eyes snapped up, searching my features.
Whatever he saw had him reaching out to cup my cheek with one hand.
“Poppet,” He rubbed his thumb across my skin.
“Don’t ever think that.”
A relieved sigh left my lips as I tilted my head into his hand.
I was his ‘poppet’ again.
“But what are we going to do about it?” I asked, unable to leave it alone.
How were we going to address this problem?
I didn’t want our contrasting desires to breed resentment.
Someone should have warned me marriage was such hard work.
He managed a fleeting smile.
“We’ll figure something out.” Matt’s hand left my cheek and he fixed the duvet around his waist.
The restless way he kept smoothing it over let me know he was quite upset.
Matt didn’t fidget, he was always so sure of himself.
He let out a frustrated grunt and shoved the duvet off before turning on his side and giving me his back.
I shuffled over until I was able to press my body against his.
My lips found the curve of his broad shoulder and I trailed soft kisses across his flesh.
Matt stiffened, it was so unexpected that I stopped immediately.
“I’m tired. Let’s just go to sleep.” He twisted sideways to smile briefly at me.
“Ok, goodnight.” I murmured while trying to keep the disappointment off my face.
I only wanted to physically express my love for him, to show how much I needed him.
He turned away and I returned to my side of the bed to turn off the bedside lamp.
The space between us felt even wider now.
The darkness a necessary cover to hide my confusion.
What just happened?
There had been a pause…
when I asked Matt if we’d made a mistake, there had been a pause before he spoke.
I drew my knees up, it wasn’t a complete foetal position; close though, very close.
Was Matt asleep already?
We still hadn’t resolved the problem.
I turned onto my back, then twisted over to my side, then laid on my back again; freezing into stillness only when I felt Matt shuffling around.
The bedside light came on, this time it was his side.
Matt sat up and I turned towards him.
“On second thought, I’m not that tired after all.” He crooked a finger at me.
“Come here.”
I didn’t need telling twice and moments later we were shedding our respective sleepwear in-between fervent kisses.
Quick.
Explosive.
Almost frantic.
“I love you.” I kept muttering over and over as we tried to sex our problems away.
We dozed off, sated and wrapped around each other.
The last thing on my mind before sleep claimed me completely was the fact Matt didn’t climax deep inside me.
Instead he had pulled out and made the sheets very messy.
That wasn’t common for us.
Had he done it deliberately?
I would ask him about it tomorrow…