Chapter 22

Author's note – listening to Little Big Town's Girl Crush.

Sansa took one look at the note scrawled on her pillow, let out a moan and sank to the floor. The air felt heavy. She gasped for breath. She knew he was gone. She knew he wouldn't be coming back. She didn't know what she did. She didn't know what to do, her world just spiraled out of control and she was the last to know. She closed her eyes and began to sob.

Petyr and Fr. Sam heard the thunk of Sansa hitting the floor and then they heard the sobbing. Petyr rushed up the stairs. He saw the note, crumpled on the bed. He smiled to himself, very satisfied. He put on his best "concerned" face and cradled Sansa who was inconsolable.

Sansa spent nearly the entirety of the next few days in bed, crying, sleeping or crying in her sleep. Petyr made a show for Gilly and Fr. Sam to fawn over Sansa.

Petyr used this opportunity to manipulate the situation to his benefit. Petyr doted and distracted Sansa. He suggested they take a holiday, to which Sansa reluctantly agreed.

The island sun was warm, the drinks fruity. Who can be miserable in Paradise? Slowly, a new Sansa emerged. She tried scuba diving, paddle boarding, lying under a canopy while Petyr treated his prize like a queen.

Petyr played his cards right, he had arranged a 2 room suite. The first 2 weeks Sansa kept her own company between the sheets. Then one night, rum drunk and foolish, Sansa was mesmerized by a surprisingly violent storm. They had been caught in a down pour hurrying back to their room. Sansa's teeth were chattering while Petyr removed her wet clothes. He helped her into her bed and she invited him to join her. He was more than happy to oblige.

Sansa felt the smooth hand on her arms, running long, delicate fingers over her collar bone, caressing. She closed her eyes and lay on the luxurious pillows feeling Petyr's fingers on her breasts. She opened her eyes wide, when she felt the nip of teeth on her sensitive nipple. Petyr maneuvered himself between her legs; she felt his cool fingers between her thighs, parting them.

She sat bolt upright, "Petyr, no, we can't" she said, pushing him away.

It dawned on Petyr, Sansa was a virgin!

"Darling, are you sure you don't want to?" Petyr simpered, rubbing her shoulders, reassuringly.

"Petyr, I have waited all this time." Sansa whined into his ear

Petyr seized the opportunity "Why don't we just try it a little. If you don't like it we can stop." Petyr helpfully suggested.

Sansa agreed, rolling to her back, parting her thighs. "Do you think you could kiss me down there?" She asked, hopefully.

Petyr ignored her request, spitting into his hand and rubbing it between her legs.

He resumed his position between her supple thighs, he eased himself into her.

Sansa remembered thinking how much different Petyr was than Sandor. Sandor was rough but tender, Petyr was gentle but forceful. While Sandor was hairy, thick and huge, Petyr was smooth, long and strong. As Petyr entered her, it was more an uncomfortable pressure than painful. As Petyr started to move inside her, she found her rhythm and began to move with him. As she was getting into it, she felt Petyr quicken and deepen his pace and then he groaned and rolled off of her and that was it.

And that was that. They continued to share a bed for the rest of their vacation.

They returned to the little village and Sansa realized, with slight horror, that she was late.

Petyr was more than happy to legitimize their union. Then 7 and a half months later their 8lb preemie was born. His brother joined him less than a year later.

Sansa was thrown into wife and motherhood; she was too sleep deprived to look back with regret. She loved her boys and Petyr didn't ask too much.

Petyr may not love her, but he did dote on her and give her space when she needed it. Her children, on the other hand, were the loves of her life. They were sweet and loving and adored their mother.