It'll Be An Adventure (Masters of the Shadowlands #15)(77)
Author: Cherise Sinclair
“No. It’s that I don’t want to; I don’t want kids.” Gabi’s voice turned tense. “I love children—I do—I just don’t want to bear and raise them. And dammit, everyone simply assumes we’ll be popping them out. Even romance novels act like popping out babies is the be all and end all of life. And I feel like people view me as ‘less than’ when I say I don’t want any. You should hear all the reasons. Like ‘you’re gonna be lonely in your old age,’ or ‘you’re gonna regret not having any.’ The coup de grace has to be ‘how can you be so selfish?’ ”
“Oh, ow. Talk about making you feel bad.” Murphy stopped and dug her toes into the sand for an anchor. “Does Marcus want children?”
“His family does. During visits, they’re always asking when we’re going to start.”
“Gabi, you didn’t marry his family.” Murphy put her hands on Gabi’s slumping shoulders. “I asked what Marcus wants.”
“I don’t know.” The sound of the waves almost drowned out Gabi’s whisper.
“I see.” Murphy turned Gabi around so they could return to the house. “I guess you need to ask him, huh?”
“What if it breaks his heart? If he’s disappointed in me? I…” Gabi’s long breath was audible. “I can’t.”
Oh god, Murphy knew all too well the horrible fear that she might disappoint someone she loved by what she did or didn’t do. But she’d been trying to work past that kind of…of programming.
“Gabi,” she said firmly and waited until the redhead looked at her. “Saxon told me Dominants get frustrated when their submissives don’t share and won’t let them help. That they’re all about fixing things.”
Gabi let out a shaky laugh. “So true.”
“So give your Dom a chance to fix things.” Raising her brothers had taught Murphy a lot about how to deal with constant procrastination. “I’m going to call you in two days and ask you what happened. You’d better have an answer. Don’t make me sic Saxon on you for a big, ol’ spanking.”
Gabi gave her an appalled stare. “You seem all quiet and sweet and come out with a threat like that?”
“Seemed like you needed some incentive.”
They’d reached the bottom of the steps before Gabi spoke again. “You’re right. I do.”
Hours later, Gabi leaned against the headboard of their bed. Obediently, she swallowed the aspirin Marcus had brought her and washed it down with Gatorade.
“That’s a good girl.” Marcus settled next to her. “Drink more, darlin’.”
Dominants. Total fix-the-subbie sorts. Her Dom insisted that electrolytes and aspirin and fluids were the ways to prevent hangovers.
As was exercise. Which was why her body was still quivering from coming…and coming…and coming.
She obediently drank most of the bottle, set it on the bedstand, and curled up against his side. There was nowhere else she’d rather be. He was warm and hard and comforting. He felt like home. Something she’d never had from her cold, perfectionist parents.
“I haven’t seen you quite so inebriated in a while.” He stroked her hair and left the unspoken why hanging in the air.
Everything inside her wanted to avoid this conversation. When her black cats, Hamlet and Horatio, jumped on the bed and curled up at the foot, she almost moved to pet them.
To stall and avoid talking.
But she’d be getting a call from Murphy in two days. Who would’ve thought her newest friend would prove to be so ruthless? Or so caring.
“I needed the extra drinks.” She flattened her palm on his bare chest, always mesmerized by the feel of smooth skin pulled taut over chiseled muscles. She loved touching him. “For courage.”
Would she lose him now?
“Is there a way I can make this easier for you?” he murmured, pulling her closer. He waited, then rubbed her shoulder. “I got the feeling something happened when we visited the family. Might they have said something to hurt you?”
“No. Maybe.” When he tensed, she felt dismay. Because his family had welcomed her and loved her. Made her part of them. “They’re wonderful. It’s just”—the words stuck like shards of glass in her throat—“they keep hinting about children.”
“They’ll give us time.”
His words should have been soothing. Not. “I don’t want time.” She pulled in a breath and forced out the damning sentence. “I don’t want kids.”
“Ah.”
The silence grew so heavy it was crushing her chest. The backs of her eyes burned, and she drew each breath through her nose, trying to force the tears to recede.
Twisting, he lifted her up and on top of him, so she straddled his stomach. Forcing her to face him.
And then he leaned back against the headboard as if nothing awful had just happened. As if she hadn’t just derailed—destroyed—their marriage.
“Seems like there are a plentiful number of reasons for not wanting children.” His rich voice was slow and measured, his Southern drawl and phrasing much like his grandfather’s. “Perhaps you might could explain your thoughts?”
She didn’t want to. She wanted to escape the entire discussion like the coward she was. “I think I’m broken.” At his sound of disbelief, she hurried on. “I’ve never wanted to be pregnant, to have babies. None of that.”
His brows drew together. “Darlin’, you love children. Prefer to work with the underage victims. I’ve seen you with Z’s children. Dan’s. Nolan’s.”
She huffed a laugh. Such a guy. She thought of those children as Jessica’s, Kari’s, and Beth’s. “I adore kids. But I…”
How could she find the right words? “I love my job, but it takes all my energy to be there for the victims.” She worked with mostly traumatized teenagers and a lot of even younger children.
They were hers to help as Abe had saved her so many years ago.
She was cowering in a corner, unable to run, blood pouring down her cheek, more between her legs.
A man entered the tiny apartment. Silver-haired, deep lines beside his mouth, his face open and honest. “My name is Abe, and I’m with the FBI, sweetie.” He waited a moment for her to understand, then said, “I’m here just for you. To help you. Let me take you someplace safe.”