‘You’re not staying?’ he blurts, his green eyes bulging in panic.
‘No. I don’t need to. You’ll be fine.’ It takes every effort not to sit and hold his hand through this, but he needs to do this for himself. I might have played the babies card, but my reasons are far deeper than the need to have more family around us. Jesse needs to heal physically and mentally. Forgiving his parents will play a massive role in that.
I open the door and smile at Beatrice and Amalie, who have since been joined by Henry. I say nothing. I leave the door open for them and lose myself for a time while I let a lost family find themselves again.
Chapter 35
I’m in Paradise.
After Jesse got the all clear from the doctors a full week after he woke, we left the hospital, me leading him. He refused the wheelchair that was delivered to his room, which I wasn’t surprised about at all. My big, strapping man had been laid up for three weeks, dependant on others to care for him, so I couldn’t deny him the dignity of walking out of the hospital, even if it took us an hour. We returned to Lusso, where Cathy fussed and flapped around like a mother hen, ensuring cupboards were full, washing was done and the whole place looked like it did on the launch night before it had been lived in. Then I gave her a few weeks off. We needed privacy in our home. I needed to look after Jesse. I needed to nurse him back to the man who I know and love.
The first week was a washout. Streams of constant visitors plagued the penthouse, including Jesse’s parents. It’s still odd and a little strained, but I can see a light in my husband’s eyes that I never have before. It’s different to the sparkle of lust or the deepening in anger. This is peace.
The police paid numerous visits during that first week. It was probably too soon, but Jesse insisted on getting the chore out of the way so we could resume our normal. Patrick stopped by with my work colleagues, expressing his sincere apologies for putting me in such an awful situation, but he wasn’t to know, and neither was poor Sal. She’s well and truly back to dreary, plaid skirt wearing Sal, but she seemed happy enough. Mikael withdrew from the deal to buy Rococo Union and Patrick offered me my job back, but I politely declined and Jesse didn’t try to convince me otherwise. I can’t return to work, and I really don’t want to.
For the following three weeks after that first hectic one, there was constant contact, just how he likes it. We bathed every morning and indulged in hours of tub-talk. I re-dressed his wound, he rubbed Bio Oil into my tummy. I cooked breakfast, he fed it to us, both naked. He read his pregnancy manual out loud, I listened intently. He chose to skim past the parts that would put his ridiculous worries to rest, and I chose to snatch the book from his hand and read those parts aloud to him. He would scowl, I would grin. He wanted lots of sex, but I didn’t want to hurt him, which is ironic after the constant battle we’ve had in this aspect of our relationship since I’ve been pregnant. It’s been hard. My raging hormones are not improving.
Now, four weeks later, I’m spread eagled on the bed in the main bedroom of Paradise, I’m naked and I’m basking at the highest level of Central Jesse Cloud Nine.
‘Comfy?’
My head lifts so my eyes can locate the whereabouts of my Lord, finding him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, naked, just how I like him. ‘No, because you are not in here with me.’ I pat the mattress, and he blasts me with his smile—my smile. He doesn’t lie next to me, though. He spreads my legs and crawls up between my thighs, resting his freshly shaved chin on my growing tummy and looking up at me with those glorious greens.
‘Good morning, my beautiful girl.’
‘Good morning.’ My fingers seek out his wet hair, and I sink further into the bed on a contented sigh. ‘What are we doing today?’
‘I have it all planned out.’ he declares, nibbling on my midriff. ‘You will do what you’re told.’
‘Does it involve cards?’ I enquire casually, but far too hopefully. I’ll ensure that I lose this time, so there will be no need for the transfer of power.
‘No,’
I’m disappointed. ‘Does it involve twilight sleepy sex?’
I feel him grin around the flesh that he’s nibbling on. ‘Maybe later.’
‘Then I’ll do whatever you want.’ I advise him, my thighs clenching at the thought of another dreamy session in the sand, and my mind wishing the day away so later gets here faster.
‘Your day starts right now, Mrs Ward.’ He plants a set a loud kisses around my bellybutton before sitting up and straddling me. He reaches over to the bedside cabinet and retrieves an envelope. ‘Here.’
‘What’s this?’ I ask on a frown, gingerly taking it from him. I don’t like surprises from this man.