“You did not,” she gasped.
I smirked with pride. “Can’t make that shit up. I got paid to sit around and be flashed all day. Best job a man could have.” I took another bite of pizza, talking around it as I said, “But that was before I found out I could get paid for sitting around, bullshitting with you.”
Her eyes lit at the compliment. “Well, in the nightie Elisabeth bought, it’s practically the same thing.”
I pointed at her with my crust and winked. “This is not a bad thing.”
Aaaaaaannnnd…now, I’m flirting.
Fuck. Me.
But, as she started picking sausage off another piece of pizza for me, I realized I was already fucked when it came to Clare.
And, Christ, it felt good.
“Mr. and Mrs. Noir. It’s so nice to see you again,” Doctor Fulmer said as he entered the room. His balding, gray head was down as he flipped through the pages of a medical chart.
I had an overwhelming urge to light it on fire and pray that the flames would engulf me too.
I was flat on my back, an IV in my hand, a paper blanket covering my lap, and tears rolling from my eyes.
“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart,” Walter purred before placing a chilling kiss to my forehead.
I wasn’t nervous.
I was devastated.
It was the day of my egg retrieval. The day my eggs would be paired with Walt’s sperm and innocent children would be created. When I’d been a little girl, I’d had dreams of having sweet, little babies with my eyes. But not like this.
During the IVF process, I’d prayed every night as Walt gave me my shots that my ovaries wouldn’t stimulate. However, the monitoring ultrasounds revealed three “beautiful” follicles steadily maturing.
I hadn’t given up all hope. From what I’d read on the Internet, not all follicles contained eggs and three was an extremely small number for the amount of medication they’d given me. But Doctor Fulmer had assured us that he’d been successful with less.
Just that morning, I’d dropped to my knees in our bathroom and begged whatever God was out there that he’d fail.
The doctor reassuringly squeezed my foot and glanced up to Walt. “We’re all set.”
“Perfect,” he replied sinisterly.
“All right, Mrs. Noir. The anesthesiologist is going to get you sedated and then we’ll wheel you to the back, retrieve those beauties, and you’ll be right back at your husband’s side before you know it.”
That only made the tears fall harder, and a loud sob tore from my throat.
“Clare,” Walt scolded, sliding his hand under my neck and squeezing painfully hard. “Get it together,” he seethed.
“Sorry,” I said to him before looking to the doctor and lying. “I’m just nervous. That’s all.”
His eyebrows regretfully pinched together, but his gaze darted back to Walt. “Okay, then. I’ll just give you a moment to collect yourself, and then we’ll get things started.”
“Just send them in now. She’s fine,” Walt replied, his hidden fingers biting into the back of my neck.
More tears spilled from my eyes, but I managed to squeak out, “Yes. Send them in.”
Doctor Fulmer shook his head but didn’t say anything else before exiting the room.
No sooner had the door clicked than Walt was in my face. One of his hands slapped over my mouth. The other twisted in the back of my hair, forcing my head to the side.
“I swear to God I will fucking kill you if you pull that shit again.” The veins on his forehead bulged from the exertion.
Panic thundered in my chest. I had no doubt he was telling the truth. Just a week earlier, I’d heard him say those exact words to a man he’d considered his best friend since childhood as he’d sat on our couch as a welcomed guest. An hour later, I’d been on my knees, cleaning his skull fragments off my living room wall.
I nodded vigorously.
He studied my frightened eyes for a few beats longer before finally releasing me. “I’d appreciate it if you tried to be a little more grateful here.” He sauntered over to the door and peeked outside. “It’s not my fucking fault we’re in this situation. It’d do you well to remember that. My shit tested just fine. It’s your white-trash, inbred ovaries that’s costing us thirty fucking thousand dollars.” He raked a frustrated hand through his dark-brown hair before smoothing it back into place. “A ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ would go a long fucking way right now, Clare.”
“Thank you and I love you,” I repeated immediately, vomit creeping up the back of my throat.
He glared at me and cracked his neck. “You’re fucking lucky I love you. If I was a different kind of man, I would drop you and move the fuck on. Your kind’s a dime a dozen, and most of them aren’t broken like you. Don’t fucking forget that.”
Oh, how I’d wished he were a different kind of man. I wouldn’t wish a life with Walter Noir on my worst enemy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy walking away if he found someone new to torment.