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“I like your cock.”
Bear chuckles and kisses my lips. “That’ll do.”
We consummate our marriage in a subdued way. First, we make out, gently kissing and stoking until he’s hard and I’m wet. Then, Bear has me spoon with him. His hand rests against my belly before his cock slides between my folds and tenderly brings me pleasure.
After the chaotic, painful last month, I’m in desperate need of this quiet intimacy with Bear. More than attraction and sexual desire, our connection tonight feels comforting. No one fills me with hope like the man holding me. No woman offers him a safe place to keep his heart. We’ve found something special together.
That’s why we don’t need a decadent honeymoon. Instead, we find a routine in our new life. Those next few days, we do sleep more, lounge a lot, and heal up.
Every few days, various members of Bear’s family visit. Siobhan is often here. We either order in or grill outside. I try to keep up with the bikers’ inside jokes and ignore their roughhousing.
A week after the wedding, my parents visit for dinner. The mansion’s chef arrives a few hours beforehand to prepare the meal. I try to be a good host, but I mostly just cling to my mom. Maybe that’s why Katja seems so sad when they prepare to leave for the evening.
“I enjoyed having you and the children at the mansion,” she admits as I stand next to their SUV. “When you’re well, I hope you’ll visit often.”
My mother’s words are the push I need to stop hiding. The house feels safe and warm. The kids and I already have a routine. Bear has gotten the hang of Nat lurking around. The cats barely ever get spooked and hide when the kids get loud. Life at home is perfect. Why ruin things by leaving the gated property dripping with security?
Of course, the longer I’m at home, the scarier Banta City becomes. I’m afraid to see the hotel where we had the engagement party. Or drive past Jefferson River where Petra and I were nearly swallowed up. Or return to the St. Thérèse Hospital, where I was treated. I’ll need to face the trauma from that night if I ever want to be myself again.
That’s why I choose to give birth at St. Thérèse Hospital a year later. By then, I’d visited the spot where the SUV went in the water. Petra joined me as we walked along the muddy riverbank where we were found. We also sat at a memorial built nearby to remember the people lost that night.
Though Bear watched us face our fears, he didn’t participate. I suspect that night will scar him for much longer than it does me.
I’m in a happy mood on the day of my C-section. My doctor scheduled the procedure based on my daughter’s size and position.
“She won’t turn around,” I tell Bear. “I don’t know where she gets her stubborn nature from, but we’re taking her out whether she cooperates or not.”
No matter my teasing, Bear is terrified about the surgery. He hides his paranoia behind grumpiness.
Bear isn’t the only one stressing the procedure. Katja decides to stay at our house for my first week home to supervise my care. Motherhood has brought us much closer over the last year. She dotes on Petra’s kids at the mansion. However, my babies seem out of reach, leaving her clingy.
The C-section goes smoothly. Olívie is a healthy eleven pounds. Bear holds his daughter and frowns at how big she is compared to the other babies he’s seen. Each person who visits mentions her size, making him growl more.
Finally, Aunt Fred arrives to settle him down. “You were twelve pounds,” she explains and shows him a document. “Your weight is on your hospital paperwork. See?”
Bear’s frown quickly disappears. I suspect he’s mostly happy at how Aunt Fred took the time to locate those documents to help him. She knows him so well and is always two steps ahead of whatever barrier he tries to build for himself.
“What if she looks too much like me?” Bear asks Aunt Fred as he brushes Olívie’s brown hair back under her pink cap.
“Natasha thinks you’re handsome, doesn’t she?”
I smile at him from the bed and point out, “Your good looks are why we got pregnant so quickly. I would have faked a headache with a less attractive man.”
“Natasha, you should play hard to get,” Carys announces while trying to steal the baby from Bear. “That’s how I keep Pork Chop interested.”
Standing behind Carys, her husband shakes his head as if she’s spewing nonsense.
“I’ve tried to withhold sex,” I tell her. “But Bear took off his shirt, so I gave up.”
Though Bear smirks arrogantly at my praise, he can’t take his eyes off his daughter. He’s been excited since I showed him the positive pregnancy test. Right away, Bear suggested naming the baby after Ollie.
“I never want you to think you have to forget him, just because I’m the reason he’s gone.”
Bear’s words erased any residual anger I felt toward him. There’s no denying he messed up. While Bear can never fix what he did, I chose to forgive him. One day, I hope he can find a way to forgive himself.
By the time Olívie is born, Bear has grown accustomed to the staff at the house. He ignores security except to boss them around when I plan to go somewhere. My work at the homeless and women shelters makes him edgy. Sometimes, he’ll show up and keep watch. I don’t mind his paranoia since his protective nature is what drew me to him in the first place.
Hector and Jacinda are in preschool before the baby is born. I worried a more structured environment would smother their goofy natures. They do butt heads with their teachers from time to time and prefer to play together rather than with most other students.
