Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
CHLOE
Two Years Later
It starts as a regular night before going to bed. I remove my makeup, brush my teeth, and he appears behind me, wearing an expression I haven’t seen on him. Instantly I go on high alert at the smug but pleading look.
“So . . .”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I wanted to ask you,” he pouts while his fingers draw tantalizing circles on my neck.
“I can smell spoiled and entitled from across the room.”
He lifts his hands in the air, but then grabs my ass and places me on the tile.
“You might distract me with sex, but . . .”
“What if I do this?”
Oh, the prick, but his tongue, that tongue knows how to bring my brain and body to bust.
“I want a baby.” I would have killed him if he said that before I came.
“You’re still a baby yourself.”
“I beg your pardon.” Translation: fuck off!
“I am in a two year, loving, stable as fuck, and happy relationship. Not to forget the on and off. I am a hard-working guy.”
“My answer is no. You want a kid for the sake of it.” He eyes me as if I am the crazy one. I cross my hands over my chest and roll my eyes at him.
“Yes, what’s wrong with that?”
“Filip, our kid will not be your replacement for your nephews and nieces and for caressing your little ego.”
“This has nothing to do with my ego.”
“Then first you should reverse that bloody vasectomy.” He does it the next day, and I make him wear condoms. Serves him right.
***
I thought the subject would be closed for a while. It is for one month straight, and then he rents the Versailles to propose. I said yes, I was too overwhelmed.
“This is not getting you your kid. I want to be the head of the finance division first.”
I never expected my life would turn out like this. When he announced our engagement, I never itched more to elope.
“You’ll get over it.”
“These two should be illegal.” They hunt me down, just for the most minuscule details, like what pattern do I prefer on the cutlery? Who bloody cares, right?
“I need a break.”
“Stop whining, I am handling this.”
“Then stop them from harassing me, Sarah.”
Bria and Soph burst into laughter.
“Stop laughing you two, it’s like all they think of is my wedding.”
Another round, while I lift my hands in exasperation, “I believed you and Damien were their favorites, if I knew it, I would have thought more about this.”
“You fit so well in our family,” beams Bria, while Soph nods, just Sarah’s eyes have a pensive note, the girls are clueless at what this look means. She wants this too, but the one she wants is oblivious. I wish her luck because that man locked his heart for good. No way a woman can scale that fortress.
As I walk down the aisle, wearing an A-line embroidered wedding dress, my heart beating in my ears, while my family of my choice smiles brightly at me, emotions overwhelm me. They welcomed me in, loved, and supported me, not like my biological parents. I never loved him more than when he tried to reconcile us and apologized for failing. All they wanted was the fame. I don’t miss them, it’s their loss.
We say our I do’s. His lips find mine and tingles erupt while my heart whispers in awe, he’s my husband. I can’t believe this.
“Are you happy, Mrs. du Mont?”
“Never been happier.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
After the reception, I ask, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
We traveled for our honeymoon to five countries, each one starting with a letter from my name: Cambodia, Haiti, Lesotho, Oman, Egypt.
Yes, he’s obnoxious, I love him.
I lock my arms around his neck, kissing down his bronzed skin as we return from our honeymoon in the jet. “Who do you love the most?”
“My wife,” he grins, and I will never tire of hearing him either telling me he loves me or calling me his wife.
***
“Happy birthday!” He wakes me up, sliding between my legs. I am pregnant, but he has no idea. He has been ready for years, I just didn’t want to admit how ready he has been for a family.
Filip steps inside our bedroom, wearing only a towel. I was terrified that with time this would end, but to my surprise it only gets better. Love and wanting to be with someone is what counts.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I smile, he knows me too well. Marriage has never been scary, on the contrary, it has been a relief.
“Like what?” He crawls on top of me, always staring a moment longer when he passes my stomach. He will lose it when I tell him. I stopped questioning why making someone else happy, especially the love of your life brings you so much joy in return.
“Like you’re in on a secret and I am not.”
“I am.”
He jerks his chin to me, and his eyes bore into mine.
“I am pregnant.” The words burst out of me while I giggle.
He blinks, and closes his eyes, only to open them glistening.
We’re still vulnerable inside, but love is a cure, in the way you deal better with pain.
“I am. Six weeks.”
He collapses next to me, caressing my stomach. He will be an incredible daddy, and an obnoxious one as well. Good god, what have I done, our kids will be even more spoiled than he is. He smirks at me as if he knows what my brain conjured.
“Too late, now,” he says, and I slap my forehead, living with someone like him, my theatrics improved.
“Filip, you won’t spoil our baby.”
“No, just love it.”
“It’s the same for you.”
He rolls me on my back, kissing me.
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you right back, prick.”
***
It’s official, these women love to throw a party, I guess being pregnant calls for celebration. Everyone gathers at the du Mont’s. We have never been closer, but the distance still is something we can’t cross. The emphasis is mostly because we all tend to congregate. No one says to them it’s okay not to go over the top, after all these years I conclude they don’t know any other way.
To have a home, a family, people who will always be right beside you is a blessing. I have no clue what I did to deserve all this, though, because all I can remember is falling in love with a prick, my prick.
