Title: Chapter 20
Rating: M to be safe.
Summary: "But better to get hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie." ― Khaled Hosseini
Wednesday, January 29th 2014.
IN THE MANNER OF AN ACTION IN THE NEVADA SUPERIOR COURT OF JUSTICE.
FILE NUMBER: 04-0929, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA.
Pretrial notice to SARA SIDLE
The honourable court of Las Vegas, Nevada, hereby informs you of your obligation to appear as a defendant to the Nevada Superior Court of Justice on February 10th, 2014 at 10.00a.m. for the hearing concerning charges against Ronald C. Basderic. You have the right to obtain a lawyer for your protection, if necessary. Please, bring a document of identification with you to be checked before the trial proceeds.
Please find the additional note with more detailed case information and study it thoroughly before arriving at court.
Regards,
Court clerk, Melissa Wilcox.
"Fuck." The harsh syllable slipped from my lips as my eyes scanned the short block of writing once more. I tilted my head towards the sky, rolling my head about my shoulders to soothe the dull tension growing between them. The sun wrapped around my skin. The paper was dropped to the grass as I began to bathe in the heat. "Ronald." I growled as I thought of my foe, the man that almost had me incarcerated, before setting up a honey-pot trap to lead to my murder. The spiteful face of the man was brought to my attention, appearing vivid as the Boxer dog rolling in the grass before me. Pure repulsion nestled in my stomach at the thought of the malicious being watching me, sneaking into my house, sabotaging my sleeping medication. The same nausea began climbing my throat as Taylor Wynard was inevitably brought into the image. The mini cake he had pleasantly presented on his arrival had been especially chosen by a man who planned to end my life. My face turned from the sun towards my dog, happily playing in the garden on the blissfully bright day. A bitter sadness replaced the repulsion as the letter came to sight once more. The pretrial notice offered an opportunity to see Basderic finally served justice, but also acted as a foul reminder of my actions, my anger and my questionable affection shared with Wynard.
My tongue darted around my lips to lap away the salty beads of sweat that had gathered from heat and anxiety. The once comforting sound of my husband watching the latest baseball game in the living area now elicited dread. Hank suddenly pushed himself onto his front and stilled himself, cocking his head in my direction as my breathing deepened. The dog stood and quickly padded over to my side, unhappy at the distress he sensed. "Good boy." I smiled at the loving action. "I'm going to have to be brave." I sighed as I placed the paper flat on my lap before quickly skimming the inventory of evidence to get to the information of key interest. "Here we go..." A sigh as I came to opening of Basderic's statement.
"Why would you do that?!" Gil's voice echoed from inside the house. The paper was crushed between my lap and stomach while I tried to envelop myself after yelping at the sudden shout. Hank bounced back at the reaction, his ears pricking up to attend to any threatening noises. Glancing at my confused pet, I cursed myself for the exaggerated reaction. Hank swivelled his head around quickly and, upon sensing no immediate danger, moved to join his other master in the house, which had quieted completely. "Honey? Are you ok?"
"Yes, I'm fine sorry. You made me jump." I laughed uneasily as I eyed the crumpled paper, Basderic's testament lay unread. "Sorry." I mumbled as I fingered the paper with an absent mind before dragging it across my lap for better inspection. The sound in the house continued, Gil apparently satisfied that I was fine, resumed the game. My hands began shivering as I came across Basderic's words, my eyes strapped to the paper while I began preparing my argument for the trial as well as the one I would inevitably have to present to Gil.
Unmercifully, the maleficence portrayed by Ronald was not contained to the being himself, but was clear in the way he spoke of me. Pathetic woman, vengeful, quick to anger, alcohol fuelled, adulterer, desperation. My husband cheered gleefully inside the house, ignorant of my extra-marital crimes and accusations. The greying body of Taylor Wynard, seven raw fleshy slits peppered across his torso in a similar manner to that of my late father, his blank shirt rusted with blood. A few isolated crumbs of the mini-cake lay dusted on his shirt as collected by Greg and processed by Hodges. The usually charming features of Taylor had become expressionless within death, the lips that had once pressed against mine crackled with dead skin as he began to rot in that hotel room.
The heat of the summer had produced a dew overnight. A single hand reached to pluck the unfamiliar fabric of Gil's jeans away from the back of my thighs, nature's adhesive slick against my skin. Ignoring the irritating moisture, I turned and quickly made way for the house, muttering words of courage to myself along the way.
The house was filled with the usual 'baseball game' smell; hot dogs or burgers, beer and chips and dip. For a moment I paused in my journey, appreciating the smell in a new way. While I had happily announced mutual interest in Gil's hobbies to Catherine, the customary meat based snacks that accompanied his games were repulsive. While trying desperately to ignore my body pleading for a break in vegetarianism, I followed the smell into the living area.
Gil was lounged happily across the sofa, bare feet crossed on the opposite pillow while a half empty beer rested on his stomach, propped up by his relaxed hand as he focussed on the television screen. Although nothing particularly exciting was happening, a shadow of his earlier grin remained in the soft laughter grooves along his jaw. The gentle look remained as he pushed himself upright before reaching towards the centre coffee table, an outstretched hand closing over the hot dog he had prepared himself. "You're missing a good game." He stated as he closed his mouth over the bread and meat snack, mustard smothering the tip of his nose.
"I could hear you in the garden." An artificial smile to suppress the tremor in my voice. The grin left his face as he slowly chewed, evidently sensing my apprehension. After choosing to ignore the stiffness of his movements, I padded around the table to sit between him and Hank. "You gave us a little shock."
"I didn't scare the baby, did I?" Now concerned, Gil almost dropped his food at the implication as he adjusted suddenly to attend to me. Only a few hours ago, he had apologised profusely for kissing me after drinking coffee, resulting in a strong protest by my gag reflex.
The court sent papers rested in my lap as I reached to console him. The bristle hairs coating his forearm slipped round my fingers. "No, of course not. There hasn't been any movement in a while actually." Gil leaned toward the table again to set his food down before returning the sentiment, the baseball game momentarily forgotten and his once relaxed features now contorted with unease. The bottle rim was raised to his lips, sealed perfectly before the amber liquid slipped from the glassed vessel. He tilted his head back until his mouth was full, holding the fluid there for a moment.
"This morning I received my pretrial notice..I've only had the courage to read it a few minutes ago." As expected, he remained soundless in return and instead dropped his eyes to my lap. The bald lids of his eyes trembled slightly as he glided over the words. "You've heard a few things about Ronald Basderic in passing, haven't you?"
My husband bounced his head a couple of times. "From Nick and Greg, yes. Generally in distaste." He smiled anxiously before deciding to drink once more. "But there's more to the story, isn't there?"
"It began with Edie Graham." Gil nodded, squinting toward the telescreen as he noted the name. My lungs were filled, emptied and refilled before I moved on. "Edie came to me in June 2012, complaining about a stalker who believed her to be his girlfriend. Edie met Ronald in April at Franks and he had become infatuated with her. He showed up everywhere; when she was shopping, at work, out with friends." My head dropped to my chest as I recalled the dead body of the unfortunate girl that I could not help, my innards becoming cold.
Coffee pancakes and syrup. After a long shift, the guys had gone home to shower and sleep, but I could do neither until I had eaten. So, on my way home I took a detour to Frank's diner. Coffee, pancakes and syrup had been the first words I had spoken to Edie all that time ago. Although slightly shaken when taking my order, Edie was vibrant. A tall woman with an oval face, speckled blue eyes and a thick banner of chestnut hair, she was also very attractive. Over the next 6 months, Edie became increasingly paranoid and timid, her eyes acquiring a dullness while her mane thinned. After the judge refused to issue a restraining order, Edie lost sense of her former self completely.
Gil had taken his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited patiently for the tale to continue. "Ronald had been waiting outside Edie's work place on the night of her murder." At this Gil parted his lips, a small slither of chewed skin becoming apparent. The mass homicide at Frank's had been mentioned before but not in explicit detail. He remained silent, but narrowed his vision on the papers in my lap. "She was too afraid to leave work because of him and so she stayed. If she had left at 4:00 when she was supposed to, she would still be alive. I told Ronald that after we closed the case."
"You confronted him?" Gil spoke with little surprise. "He didn't take that well."
I fiercely bounced my head, the cold stare of Ronald becoming vivid once more, the hurt clear in his delusional guise. "He believed that he loved her Gil. When I told him that he didn't, that his obsession killed her, he began stalking and researching me. He pried into my past, into my relationship with you and my mother, into her health complications. He learned everything he could about me over many months." My voice wavered as I noticed Gil's grimace. Unintentionally, he had become involved in a budding serial killer's obsession and had his privacy compromised because of it.
He frowned as he tried to piece together the case. "So, he set you up for murder, because you blamed him for the death of his loved one?"
"No, he used the murder as a tool. The murder, along with breaking into our house and taunting the state of our marriage, were all tools which led to me confronting him outside of his workplace. He knew I would be there and used it to his advantage, making it look like I attacked him off-camera. He hurt himself then showed up at PD demanding a restraining order. Once that was in place, he visited my mother."
Gil's back slapped softly against the sofa, drawing cotton ridges in the fabric as it greeted him. "Wait, what? He visited Laura?" He stuttered as he processed the information quickly, his eyes widening at the implications of Ronald's ruthless abilities. The beer clapped as it landed on the table, his other hand braced against his forehead as he applied logic. "He knew that would be the last straw, he wanted to kill you in self-defence."
I nodded appreciatively at the hint of CSI coming from Gil as he rubbed his temple. "Exactly. Crawford and Nick worked with me to set him up, we caught his confession on tape. Crawford swapped his bullets for blanks when they confronted him on his way out of PD." Irritatingly uncomfortable, I adjusted my place on the loveseat, reaching for a pillow to ease the growing ache in my lower back before pushing both feet into the carpet and rotating my hips until my knees were inches from the coffee table. The plush pillow was gingerly placed against the pained area before I laid back in place. The dew captured on my clothed thighs formed a faint imprint in the material.
Gil rolled his shoulders slowly, a perplexed look on his face and a depleted bottle in his line of view. "If Basderic really wanted to get to you, if he really wanted to provoke you to make you come after him..." The curvature of his Adam's apple became increasingly apparent as his throat swelled. "Why would he kill Wynard? Why wouldn't he just kill your mother? Who was he to you?" The hurt in his voice, induced from the conclusion he had drawn, caused me to shudder with shame.
"I met him at a bar a few weeks after-" My tongue moved awkwardly in my mouth as I tried to form the words to confess my guilt. Gil forced his eyes closed and came rigid as he waited. "-after you called me. I had trouble sleeping and I couldn't talk to the guys about it. So I went drinking." A sigh from Gil. "Taylor was just...a guy. We kissed outside a bar and that's it. Ronald saw us, took photos and used him as leverage."
"He took photos?" Gil gasped at the news. He moved forward to smother his head with his hands, greying curls jumping between his fingers. Although he faced the floor, I grew uncomfortable at the look on his profile and his pressing silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was roughened. "When you kissed him...were you wearing your wedding ring?" He demanded mildly while he maintained his pose.
The memory of my fingers, my ring, in Taylor's hair as he began running his drunken hands under my shirt brought up a bubble of self-loathing. Now, I looked at my clearly confused husband with guilt for my wanton behaviour. "Gil." My voice was a soft plea.
"Were you wearing your ring?" His voice increased in magnitude. The room seemed to capsize as he jumped up from beside me. I flinched at the sudden movement then waited for books to fall from the selves, for glasses to shatter, for the TV to go haywire. He panted and paced, panted and paced.
"Yes, yes I was." I admited as I watched him move. "I saw my ring and...I stopped. I stopped it before it went any further. I thought we were over, I didn't know what you wanted and I was struggling." Gil stopped midway through my admission and focused on my face, frowning as he listened. A few seconds after sound had left the room, he squeezed between the coffee table and my knees before dropping to his own. A pained expression played out on his face.
"I don't like it, but I can understand. I wasn't around then." He sighed, dropping his head to my lap. He moved his hands along my thighs, twisted around my disappearing hips and rested my lower back. Hank erected his ears in the space next to me as he watched his masters odd behaviour. Gil ignored him and instead found my eyes, ensuring my attention before he spoke. "I'm sorry that you felt you had to turn to drinking, that you were alone on your birthday with only a text from me. And I'm devastated that you had to face this psychopath alone...the things he put you through."
I smiled down at my husband, the man I had often claimed to be aloof, as he embraced our mistakes. A hand moved from my back and came to sit on my thigh, a couple of fingers caressing the skin there. "We fucked up, didn't we?" My voice had lost poise. Gil smiled sadly and nodded.
"No swearing in front of the baby." We shared an easy laugh at the reminder, his hand moving from my thigh to my neck, his fingers pressed into my hair. "But yes, we did." His voice had become soft, although a trace of hurt remained in his smile. Whether it stemmed from guilt or anger, I did not know. He leaned forward and rest his head beside mine, placing a loving kiss on my shoulder before pressing one against my lips. I smiled into the kiss, my hands becoming buried in his hair as the kiss deepened - he groaned happily into my mouth. One of his hands moved from my throat to find its way beneath my blouse, clawing at my bra and massaging the freed breast. "Jesus." Gil exclaimed appreciatively as he noticed the increased size, a hint of boyish mischief carried in his grin.
"Like 'em?" I bounced a single brow, a sultry look that I knew he loved playing out on my face. The hand moved around gently, my hardened nipple pressing into his soft palm. Instead of answering, he curled his hand around my wrist. A befitting smirk crossed his face as he pulled my hands down between us.
In seconds my hand was held against his solid heat. The sensation, combined with the feel of his stubble an inch beneath my ear, reduced my world to just me and him. "Bedroom." I grunted with need. He smiled against my skin, holding out an open palm which I grasped without hesitation.
My stomach knotted as we hurried to the bedroom, Gil grinning as he pulled me along then quickly shut the door behind us, locking Hank as well as the outside world out. This would be the first time since the night in San Francisco, the first time he had fully seen my body in its adapted state. I exhaled slowly as those burgundy sheets came into view. Gil stopped just before the foot of the bed, turning to embrace with his hands finding my face once more. "We'll take it slow." I gave him the look again before hooking my fingers beneath his belt and pulling him against me, my open mouth crashing into his. "Maybe not." Gil muttered between kisses as his hands circled my waist, my own hands more concerned with the removal of his shirt. He groaned as my fingers found his bare stomach, the kiss broken as the garment was pulled over his head.
After discarding the item to the floor, I stepped towards him and encircled his throat with an open palm. "Sara." He groaned after my tongue pressed against his ear. Finally, his hands moved to unbutton my blouse and it soon met the same fate as his shirt. He stepped back to admire my changing form, a bemused look on his face as he lingered on my chest. My skin began to burn with pride. Watching him carefully, I reached back to unclasp my bra, my back arching to emphasise my increased bust. Gil groaned as the cups fell from my chest to leave my body exposed to him almost completely.
My lover of nearly 9 years, Gil had seen my naked form countless times, but in this moment my stomach seemed to contract as I watched his eyes slither down my figure. My toes curled into the carpet in a bashful move but the urge to bend and retrieve my shirt was resisted. Gil pressed his own bare feet into the carpet - one foot before the other. I smiled with a blush as he reached for my hand to bring our bodies together, our toes and torsos perfectly in line. "Hey there." My weight shifted to the balls of my feet as I pushed myself against him, enjoying the feel of my bare nipples grazing against his chest. I mimicked his earlier actions and moved his hand to rest on my lower stomach, my thighs having been pressed together with lust for moments beforehand. Ignoring my obvious desire, his hand gently caressed the skin. Only a single finger edged toward the area I wanted, bypassing my jeans to trace the border of my panties. I growled at his tease, allowing his hair to coil around my fingers. He shifted unexpectedly, dipping to level with my chest. Our eyes were locked together as he closed his mouth over a bare breast, his tongue swirling over my nipple. I groaned, shamelessly arching my back to encourage the hand on my abdomen to move. Still closed on my breast, his lips contorted into a grin at my frustrated actions. The smile only widened when began panting his name. I forced his away from my chest. "Give me what I want." I demanded, the wetted skin becoming taunt as it attracted cold air.
A corner of his mouth lifted as he listened to the need in my voice, as he watched the pink flush cross my chest. No words came from him as his full hand joined that single tip of finger, the lace edge of my underwear being pushed away as he slipped his hand between my thighs. A gave a cry of delight as he began to move slowly, my hips following his actions.
Gil began to rise from the position, his hand remaining in place. "Oh!". His fingers delved deeper. He smiled in satisfaction and moved closer, trapping his arousal at my hip between us. He flicked his tongue against my ear, mumbling my name mixed with words of lust and need. In a clumsy manner we found our way to the bed, our mouths now connected as hands began working on the remaining clothes. My palm smoothed over the front of his jeans in a tender caress. A fresh hunger seemed to coarse through him and within moments my clothes were torn from my body, my panties unceremoniously cuffed around my ankles. Gil paused as he held the fabric. The angle of his face away from mine obscured the view; only minor twitches could be observed.
"Gil?" He showed me his face in response to his name, his thoughts clearly conflicted.
"I'm not going too fast am I?"
At the sound of his meek tone, I had to swallow a scoff. Gil had always been very wary in the bedroom, and even when he had reduced me to a shuddering mess, he never once forgot to ask if I was ready before he moved to touch me again. A smile creased my face. My arms extended to pull him up towards me. "God no." I held his gaze for slightly longer than necessary while I moved my hands south again. "Not fast enough as far as I'm concerned." I smirked as he leaned his hips towards my slow moving hands. I took my time unbuttoning his jeans, enjoying the impatience building in him. "In fact, I think we should save the foreplay for later-" I whispered, pushing the jeans down his legs. He quickly kicked them away, sighing when my hands came across the boxers covering his hips. "-and go straight to the main event." I finished by tucking my fingers beneath the waistband and releasing him.
"Sara..." He muttered as he received the attention he craved. I began stroking him gently, my other hand dropping to encase his velvet sack. "Sara."
"Yes?" I grinned at his pleasure. The pillows beneath me were budged by his incoming hand as he braced himself, his body falling slightly to the right. "I want you to...oh..oh-" I lost my words as blissful pressure found the little nub between my thighs. A small band of pleasure began to tighten.
"You want me to what, sweetheart?" Gil gave a closed mouth smile before adding more pressure and dropping his mouth to my breast again, grazing his teeth against my sensitive flesh. My back arched into him and I struggled to complete my sentence.
"Now." All I could say as I spread my legs further and guided him. "Now." I repeated to his face after his left my chest. He altered himself slightly before lowering his pelvis.
"Are you-"
"-I'm ready." I raised my hips towards him eagerly. Our moans were soft as we finally joined. Gil exhaled into the crook of my neck as he buried himself within me, gradually bringing our hips closer. "Ah" I hissed, willing my body to adapt to him. The fit between us had always been quite snug, but this was different. Above me, Gil straightened his arms to look at me, a frown on his face as he too apparently noticed the difference.
"Sara...without meaning to sound crude..you're much tighter than I remember." He looked down at our joining as he spoke. A small bubble of anxiety began to tick beneath one eye.
"It's been a while, that's all." I held him, urging him to continue. My hands gripped his back and hips as he picked up pace, the snug feeling had turned to discomfort. I forced a shaky moan as he continued, hoping the knot inside would dissipate. Gil began to grunt as he worked, sliding from me then filling me again and again. The sheets gathered around our joined form, twisting against skin while we began moving together. My fingertips burrowed into his shoulders at the feel of him continuously stretching the walls within, stretching further until my body began to object.
Electric bolted up my spine as he slapped his hips against mine and embedded himself deeper inside me. The smacking sound came again seconds later when my legs jerked beneath his weight as they tried to close, the joining prevented by his presence between them, trapping my form in a ballerina-esqe pose. "No!" I cried out with my tightened fists landed swiftly against his chest, pushing him away instinctively as the pain struck again. "Get away. Stop!"
Gil had jumped at the noise as he quickly withdrew and began moving away as soon as he could. He stumbled down the bed, almost falling from the foot as my hands shot between my legs to cradle the internal pain. The sheets fell from the bed into a crumpled pile on the floor, Gil was coming back towards the headboard. "Sara?" He scrambled against the sheets with a pained expressed as he rushed to tend to me. "God, what happened? I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean to...I don't know what happened." He tried to close his arms over me, but I pushed them away, forcing myself to note the lack of colour in his face and the guilt he carried.
"Please, please just stay back." I whimpered, my hands maintaining their position as the pain began to subside. Gil sniffed and swallowed, he breathed deeply as he knelt on the bed, his hands twitching on his thighs. Scratching noises could be heard from the bottom of the bedroom door. "It's ok, Hank." I croaked, my throat feeling stuffed with cotton wool. The pillow had acquired a few droplets of salty moisture in a few moments I had laid there. Hank whimpered as he scratched more desperately.
Gil turned his head back towards the door with clear irritation. "Hank!" He spoke in a velocity that evoked almost pure silence on the other side of the door. The thinly veiled chagrin in his voice caught my attention. I slowly began to rise into a sitting position.
"Leave him alone, it's not his fault." I defended my companion. The sheets were pulled from the floor and wrapped around my body as I stood to approach the bedroom door. Gil also moved from the bed.
"Who's fault is it?" He came to stand between myself and the door, his palms held vertically. "Did I hurt you?" The thought troubled the man as evident in his hushed tones, as though even speaking the words is a sin.
"Yes...but I don't know why it hurt. I guess I wasn't ready for you."
"You seemed ready. I mean, you felt." Gil awkwardly gestured towards my crotch with his hands. "When I used my hands before..."
The recent memory was a fond one. "I know, that's why I don't understand why it hurt just then. I just couldn't do it." I whined while trying to move past him. Gil became rigid in his demeanour as I passed him. My hand was on the doorknob as he spoke solemnly.
"You couldn't have sex, or you couldn't have sex with me?" I almost choked at the question, Hank was quickly forgotten and as I quickly turned back to him, my eyes almost closed as they narrowed on his subdued person. Gil stepped forward so we were toe to toe before he spoke again. "Your body seized up, you didn't want me." He stated in an almost casual manner, speaking of us as though he were speaking of others.
"I did want you! I still want you." I gaped at my husband, my thumb crossing my palm to fondle my wedding ring. In the time since he had spoken I had already began working to decrypt his words, his mannerisms. After 3 years of marriage to Gil, he had displayed a tendency to talk around a subject but not tackle it directly, not if it was personal or had anything to do with upsetting our relationship.
He focussed intently on my face for a second then pursed his lips. As he continued to think, he padded around to his side of the bed to retrieve some clothes. "A part of you doesn't. A part of you that is dominating your decisions right now." Gil sighed as he tugged a pair of pyjama bottoms on while heading towards the door. Hank cautiously moved around his master to gain access to the bedroom, creeping low to the ground then picking up speed once Gil had left before jumping gleefully onto the messy bed, his head topped with pricked ears. I moved to pursue my confused bedmate into the kitchen, were he was crouched over an open drawer. Various magazines were passed around the small space by his large hands as he dug for some unknown object.
"Gil?"
"The crossword book that I bought the other day, have you seen it? I'm sure I put it in here." He grunted as he pulled the drawer from it's place and tipped the contents onto the floor. Shortly after he dropped to his knees and began spreading the booklets across the space. The sun was beginning to disappear from the sky with only last traces of it peaking through the windows. A sash of light hit Gil's features, only highlighting the misplaced determination in his actions.
"You've been buying a lot of those recently."
"I've had a lot of time on my hands." He mumbled as he skimmed the cover of a baby book. He grimaced upon noting it's battered appearance. "I've read this one a few times." He lightly tossed the book to join others he had also read a number of times since coming back to Vegas. My left hand found the kitchen counter as I lowered myself to the floor, my other hand clasping edges of the sheet together to maintain a little modesty. The distance to the ground was short although testing on my lower back.
"The baby must be laying quite low today." I groaned as I set myself cross-legged on the floor. Gil stopped his search to aid my descent, his hands finding my elbows as he lowered us down. "I'm barely 18 weeks and I'm struggling to reach the ground already." Gil laughed softly.
"Well, genetics rule that the baby should be quite tall in this case." Gil resumed looking through the magazines. I frowned as I watched him sort them into piles, quickly figuring that he was arranging them by topic. "They could be all wrapped up in a snug ball in there." He popped a shoulder as he tossed an amused look in my direction. I laughed easily, almost forgetting our carnal complication.
"Or lounging out across my bladder." I raised a hand to the mentioned area and puffed my cheeks for dramatic effect, enjoying the hearty laugh Gil gave. It was a laugh he seemed to reserve only for our time together, a full bodied laugh in which his cheeks filled and the corners of his eyes converged into small wrinkles. "I missed those wrinkles."
"I missed your sass." He grinned happily, shifting across the kitchen floor to sit with his thighs against mine then leaning across the space to press his lips against my cheek. Hank's nails clipped against the floor around us. The sun was beginning to disappear from our kitchen, no longer shining against Gil's face but instead favouring the wall behind us. Gil was focussed on the organised piles of books a foot away from our impromptu seats; baby books, entomology, vegetarian cookery books, miscellaneous. The tips of his toes were met by his fingers as he stretched himself out. "Do you think that it hurt because the baby is laying low?"
"No. Dr Williams said it would be fine for us to have sex, regardless of how the baby is positioned." I shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of the conversation. There was a conflict between my need to know whether I could be intimate with my husband and my fear of looking like a pregnant fiend. "She also said that we should stop if it feels uncomfortable or painful in any way."
Beside me, his head dropped towards his lap while his knees raised towards the ceiling. "I hated the way you pushed me away, the way you flinched when I entered you." I turned to watch his silhouette swallow hard. He was ashamed and, even more surprising, he was admitting it. My hands roamed his face as I struggled to find words to respond; an apology would be ill-suited.
"I think I just wasn't ready for it. My body has changed a lot in the past few months, Gil." I pushed my legs out, grounded my feet on the floor before quickly carrying my weight over Gil's leg and seating myself in the 'V' gap between them. He welcomed the change in position with his arms locked over my torso, causing the sheet to become tight but I abstained from complaining. "We can try again." A small yawn clung to my statement. The dim room was gladly received.
Although the sun was absent from our space on the floor, I felt his face swell against my scalp as he smiled. Hank was already resting in his bed, sparks of light from the bedroom behind us reflected in the name tag of his collar. "We can try again, when you are ready." The sight of Hank was lost when I closed my eyes. A hand rubbed against my back in the darkness as I slumped against Gil's chest and felt my breathing slow, my hands clumsily gathered atop my chest as I embraced a temporary break from this world.
TBC.