Beth Andrews - Caught Up in You

They’d gotten married the summer Beau turned thirteen, had said their vows in a small, private ceremony in Steve’s backyard with Beau giving Joan away. Steve’s son and daughter—sixteen and eighteen respectively—had stood up for him.

It had been such a beautiful beginning. Such a lovely promise to what could have been a long and joyful life together.

But now that life was empty. She was empty. And so alone.

All she could do was hold on to the shell of their marriage. Of herself.

Steve shucked his boxers, slid her underwear down, then lifted the hem of her nightgown. There were no tender words between them. No smiles or laughter like there used to be. He didn’t kiss her, had stopped trying to get her to respond—to his kisses, his touch—months ago.

But she wouldn’t deny him. Not when she knew sex was a basic human function. Not when he’d been so good to her, helping her keep up her facade in front of everyone else.

She could pretend with everyone else but not with Steve. It shamed her. Humiliated her. But he was the only one who knew the truth. She was broken. Forever shattered.

He slid inside of her and she bit her lower lip, grimaced. She wasn’t prepared for him but after a few strokes, her body responded the way nature intended. He grabbed her hips, pressed his face into the side of her neck and pumped into her. His body was warm, his scent familiar.

She could hold on to his strong shoulders. Smooth her hands down his sides, over the soft skin of his lower back. She could lift her hips, meet him thrust for thrust, give a small piece of herself to him, take some comfort for herself.

She kept her hands at her sides, palms up, fingers splayed. Her hips still. Turning her head away from him, she stared blindly into the darkness of their room. The bed squeaked. Her body moved with each of his firm thrusts, rubbed against the softness of the sheet. The numbers on the digital clock changed. Changed again. And again. Until Steve’s fingers tightened, his body growing rigid.

He emptied himself into her with a low groan, his breath hot on her neck, his skin damp with sweat. And almost immediately, he rolled off of her and padded into the adjoining bathroom.

Leaving Joan to stare, dry-eyed, at yet another sunrise her son would never see.

* * *

EDDIE MONTESANO WAS back at Shady Grove Elementary, back in Harper’s classroom.

Max, too, she noted, spying the little boy’s head behind his father’s legs. Eddie, in faded jeans, a snug T-shirt and a worn Pittsburgh Pirates ball cap, stood in the doorway, almost in the same spot he’d been yesterday when he’d told her he didn’t need her help. And he was watching her, his focus so complete, so intense, it was all she could do to take a full breath.

Harper forced her attention to the sleeping newborn in her arms. But even as she smiled at the precious baby, she felt Eddie glowering at her from across the room.

God, talk about unnerving. She was about ready to jump out of her skin. Or hold tiny Dawn Rupert up as some kind of shield against his death glare.

What on earth was he doing here?

“She’s beautiful,” Harper told Dawn’s mother, Lydia. Harper lifted the warm weight of the baby higher and inhaled that sweet, newborn scent. Seriously, they should market this stuff. “And you look great.”

Lydia’s light brown hair was shiny and in soft waves around her pretty face, no dark circles or breakouts in sight on her clear complexion. Her green top hugged her post-baby boobs, her dark skinny jeans daring anyone to guess she’d given birth just seven days ago.

Good thing she was super sweet and funny, or else Harper would have to hate her on principle alone.

“Thanks,” Lydia said with the dismissive wave of a woman well used to not having to try hard to look good. “Honestly, she’s been such an easy baby so far, I’m afraid I’m getting spoiled. Not like that one.” Smiling, she nodded toward her older daughter, Shana, who skipped happily around her mother while singing the latest Beyoncé song under her breath.

Beyoncé. At seven. Whatever happened to “Mary Had a Little Lamb”?

“If Dawn keeps sleeping so much during the night,” Lydia continued, taking the baby from Harper, “I might be able to come back in a few weeks.”

Lydia was the classroom mother and a really good one, too. Then again, the woman probably made cleaning toilets look fun and effortless.

“Take all the time you need,” Harper said, unable to stop herself from shooting a glance in Eddie’s direction, only to discover he was no longer at the door. He and his son were now in the middle of the room. And slowly, steadily getting closer.

“I hate leaving you in a lurch like this but I’ll be back before Halloween. If you need someone before then, let me know. I’m sure I can find a sitter.”

Harper laughed. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about coming back before you’re ready.”

“Come on, Shana,” Lydia called as she headed toward the door. “Let’s get your baby sister home.”

“I get to help change her,” Shana told Harper proudly. A miniature of her mother, she had long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a penchant for T-shirts featuring Hello Kitty. “But I can’t feed her ’cause I don’t have boobs yet.”

By the door, Lydia groaned and sent a furtive glance in Eddie’s direction. “Shana Marie!”

Shana’s eyes widened. “What? That’s what Daddy told me.”

Harper bit her lip to stop from smiling. “I’m sure you’re a big help to your mom and dad.”

The little girl twirled so that her skirt floated out. “I am.”

“Less spinning,” Lydia said, “more walking, please.”

Harper laid her hand on Shana’s shoulder and guided her to her mother. “See you tomorrow.”

She waited until the Ruperts were well down the hall before facing her unexpected guests. Making her way slowly to her desk, she sent Max a comforting smile.

He ducked his head and slid farther behind his father. Were those tear marks on his face?

“We need to talk,” Eddie said flatly.

She sat behind her desk and linked her hands together in her lap. “Yes, I guessed that was your reason for being here. What can I do for you? From your expression, I take it this isn’t a social call.”

Or going to be a pleasant visit.

Then again, maybe he just wasn’t a pleasant sort of person. His brother James was. He was a complete sweetheart. Friendly. Kind. The type of man a girl could reason with, have a polite conversation with. A truly nice man.

This one storming toward her, his son in his wake? Not so nice or friendly. Which was a pity. She bet he’d be a real heartbreaker if he’d only smile once in a while. Luckily, she wasn’t interested in having her heart broken.

“If you have a problem with me,” he said, laying his hands on her desk and leaning forward, “you tell me. You don’t take it out on my kid.”

Eyes narrowing, Harper slid her gaze from Eddie’s furious expression to Max’s face. Yes, the boy had definitely been crying and she could easily guess why. But she wasn’t saying anything until Eddie explained that remark.

Standing, she mimicked Eddie’s stance so that they were nose to nose, though she doubted she looked quite as menacing as he did. “Excuse me?”

“Dad,” Max whispered, tugging on Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie laid his hand on his son’s head but didn’t turn his way. “Max told me you made him miss recess.”

She sent Max a pointed look. The boy stopped tugging, his face turning beet-red as he stared at the floor.

Oh, Max.

She could, and did, forgive the boy for his part in this little drama. But Eddie? He wasn’t getting off so easily.

“I see,” she said, tapping her mouth with her finger. “So, to your way of thinking, since you didn’t...what? Agree with me? Do as I wanted? I—in a devious and clever act of vengeance—made your son sit on the bench with me while his friends ran around the playground. Wow. I’m really quite the monster. And obviously I don’t have enough to do as all that was on my mind from the time you left this classroom yesterday was how I could get my revenge. Want to hear my evil laugh? It’s the one I use whenever one of my nefarious plans comes together.”