HIS DARK HAIR is soft. So soft. I could stare at him for hours while he sleeps. Sometimes I do. He’s beautiful and mine. Every night, when I look at him, I am reminded that I am happy. He makes me happy.
Other times, he maddens me.
I can’t pinpoint it exactly. It isn’t any one thing. Just that his presence rubs me the wrong way. Every day, it worsens. I don’t like that feeling at all.
I stroke his hair again and murmur, “I love you.”
It’s times like these I have to remind myself that I do love him. That he is mine. I have to remind myself that I am in charge of my thoughts…the darkness is not in charge of me.
I close my eyes and start to hum a song I remember Mom humming when I was a child. It would always calm me when I was in the middle of a tantrum. For as long as I can remember, my mother and I have always butted heads. It’s only recently that we’ve talked a little more. We mostly tolerate each other. You’d think Gabe would be a deal breaker for her, but she puts up with him. Despite everything that went on between them in the past, she welcomes him into her home.
It makes me wonder if she still has feelings for him.
I often wonder if Dad were to suddenly die, would she go after my husband?
Would she remember what a good lover he was and want that back?
Anger bubbles up inside my chest. Mom is beautiful and looks younger than her actual age. She runs most days and eats well. If she wanted to seduce him, she probably could.
I try to imagine her as a teen having sex with my husband. Thoughts of my mother beneath him moaning his name have me fisting my hand and gritting my teeth. I can almost hear her moans.
Gabe…
Gabe…
More…
“Sweet girl?”
I snap my eyes open and cast an irritated glare at him. That perfect mouth has been on my mother’s pussy. He’s been inside her.
“Hannah,” he utters as he strides into Land’s nursery. “Let me put him back in his crib and then we can go back to bed.”
I stop gliding in the rocker but don’t release my baby to him. His eyes narrow but he doesn’t challenge me. Instead, my sleepy husband drops to his knees and hugs us both. Some of the tension releases from my chest. While Land sleeps in one of my arms, I can’t help but reach over with my free hand and stroke Gabe’s hair.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice muffled against my breast.
“Just thinking about things.”
He tilts his head up. “What things?”
I frown and dart my eyes over to the window. “Things that make me angry.”
His fingers grip my jaw and he turns my head to look down at him. “What things, baby?”
“You and Mom,” I seethe, the accusation heavy in my voice.
“She and I were over before you were even conceived.” His brows furl together and an annoyed sigh escapes him. “We’ve been through this a thousand times.”
My tone is bitter. “I’m your second choice.”
“Hannah,” he warns. “How many times—”
“Daddy?”
He and I both jerk our heads around to see our sleepy toddler standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. My heart warms to see her in her cute pink polka-dot zip-up pajamas. Her blond curls are fuzzy from sleep. She’s been wandering a lot more in the middle of the night and early mornings since we recently switched her from her crib to a toddler bed.
“Come here, Toto,” I coo and motion for her.
Gabe twists to sit on his butt with his back against my shins. Toto walks over and climbs into his lap. He holds her against his chest and strokes her soft hair. A smile plays at my lips. She reaches a small hand up, and I grab it. Land stirs but doesn’t wake.
“We are a family, Hannah,” Gabe murmurs, but his tone is fierce. “You and I and these babies.”
My eyes sting but tears don’t form. Sometimes I hate that I’m broken. The emotions that normal people have aren’t in my hollow chest anymore. They’ve dried up and crumbled away. Anger is my most prevalent emotion. It feels like it takes over more often than not.
“I hate being sick,” I hiss as though the words themselves are tainted.
A growl rumbles from my husband. “You’re not sick…you’re just in desperate need of a vacation.”
Toto peers over her father’s shoulder at me with her big brown eyes and smiles. It reminds me of Gabe. The love in that smile nearly knocks the breath out of me.
“Are you going to take me on vacation so you can off me and dump me somewhere in the Pacific Ocean?” I question, my voice only half teasing in nature. “Then find a new wife? Someone normal?”
Toto smiles shyly at me again. Those smiles are distracting. A trick she most definitely learned from her daddy.
“I’m not even entertaining those questions with an answer. I love you more than anything in this world,” he grumbles. “You know this.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Toto agrees.
My heart expands, and I grin at her. “I love you too, baby.”
She starts whining to climb into my lap, so Gabe sets her on her feet so he can relieve me of the baby. As soon as Land is in his daddy’s arms, Toto crawls into my lap. Her small hands touch my face as she beams at me. I run my fingers through her messy hair and study her features.
Her light blonde hair is soft. So soft. I could stare at her for hours while she watches me with her cute grins and adoring eyes. Sometimes I do. She’s beautiful and mine. Every day, when I look at her, I am reminded that I am happy. She makes me happy.
Other times, she maddens me.
I can’t pinpoint it exactly. It isn’t any one thing. Just that her presence rubs me the wrong way. Every day, it worsens. I don’t like that feeling at all.
I stroke her hair again and murmur, “I love you.”
After Land is back in his crib, Gabe stares out the window for a long time with his strong arms crossed over his chest and his back to me. After some time, Toto falls asleep. I stand and carry her back to her bedroom. Once I’ve kissed her and shut the door behind me, I start down the hallway.
I sense his heat before he even touches me. A moment later, a hand covers my mouth from behind, and I’m captured in his powerful arms.
His mouth finds my ear, and I shiver when he nips at my lobe with his teeth. “You have to stay out of that head of yours and with me, sweet girl. It’s the only way for us to be happy.”
I whimper when his free hand slides to my breast through my silky gown. He trails kisses down the side of my neck before releasing me to twist me around. His dark eyes are narrowed as his palm grips my throat. My head thumps the wall when he pushes me against it. I love when he possesses me. He keeps me focused on what matters. Us.
“God, sweet girl,” he mutters as he nips at my bottom lip and chin and jaw. “You have to get your shit together. You have to.”
“I’m trying,” I promise as I grip his hair to guide him down to my aching breasts. He bites my nipple through the fabric and regards me with a wicked glare that makes my panties wet. I tug his hair to the left so he’ll bite my other nipple too.
His chocolate brown hair is soft. So soft. I could stare at him for hours while he devours me, his touches demanding and consuming. Sometimes I do. He’s beautiful and mine. Every day, when I look at him, I am reminded that I am happy. He makes me happy.
Other times, he maddens me.
I can’t pinpoint it exactly. It isn’t any one thing. Just that his presence rubs me the wrong way. Every day, it worsens. I don’t like that feeling at all.
I stroke his hair again and murmur, “I love you.”