Undefeated, page 19
I laugh. “Fair enough. Why did you join Joyful Justice?” I ask. “I don’t get the sense it was because of me.”
She smiles. “Not exactly, no. Dan is amazing. I’d work with him on any project—and this is a good one.”
“You two met online, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah.” She turns her gaze to the ocean and falls silent.
“I’m guessing you met through Anonymous…” She shrugs noncommittally. “Which you wouldn’t be able to admit due to some secretive code.” She smiles but doesn’t say anything. “Okay, fine. Well, I’m glad you’re on our team.”
“Me too, I’d hate to be using my genius for evil.”
We both laugh at that. “You really think technology can save the planet?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s our only hope.” A twinkle in the distance pulls my focus. Mulberry’s plane. “When are you due?” Rebecca asks.
I blink, turning to her. “A few months,” I answer.
“You getting a doula?”
“A what now?”
“My sister got a doula, she said it was the best decision she ever made. It’s someone who helps you through the birth—like a coach. Not a doctor or midwife, but someone who helps with the mental side.”
“Oh…”
“I can check the personnel files and see if there is anyone who’s trained as a doula.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That’s nice of you.”
“No problem. My sister has three kids. She knows about having babies.”
I almost ask if I can talk with her sister but bite my tongue. “Thanks,” I say again instead. “I should get going.”
I rise to stand and she lifts her now-empty coffee cup in a salute. “Nice talking with you.”
“Yeah, you too. And if you think of a way to burn society down in time to save the planet let me know.”
She laughs. “Will do.”
Blue, Nila, and Frank follow me back down the jungle path. We enter the building and head to the garage. When I open the van’s side door, Frank leaps in and manages to settle on the first row of seats without incident. Nila jumps in after him, and he nuzzles her. She nips him and he gets so excited that he flips off the seat. Nila growls at him and he stays on the floor, laying down, as though it was his plan all along.
I’m grinning as Blue and I get in the front seat. Nothing like some comic relief from my dog to lighten the worry of our broken society and planet. Did the first humans to tame wolves know how vital they’d become to our well-being? It seems impossible. But as I drive through the tunnels and make my way onto the dirt path, headed for the airstrip, I keep smiling, buoyed by my dogs’ presence.
As I pull up onto the tarmac, I see the Cessna touch down lightly on the landing strip, the small plane bouncing as it slows to a stop. Blue hops out of the van with me and I leave the door open as I wait for Mulberry to deplane.
Sun hits the windshield, hiding the passengers as it taxis toward the hangar. It disappears inside and I wait, my stomach churning on my coffee. Mulberry appears—the sun hitting him so strongly that he holds up a hand even though he’s wearing sunglasses.
His white T-shirt rides up his arm, exposing the hard lines of his biceps. The memory of those arms around me—of how I got pregnant in the first place—rushes through my mind in vivid, filthy detail. He turns back and says something I can’t hear from this distance. Then he starts down the tarmac.
Mulberry catches sight of me, his lips widening into a broad smile. I return it, the churning in my stomach twisting into excitement. He’s carrying a small duffel and wearing worn blue jeans. The wind plays with his hair, tousling it. His jaw is coated in a thick layer of stubble. His beard grows fast so all this growth is probably just since he left Costa Rica.
Ten feet from me, Mulberry drops the bag; it lands with a soft thwap on the pavement. He pulls off his sunglasses and slips them into his back pocket, still coming at me, no break in his stride. I push off the van, expectation making me move.
Then he’s in front of me, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps coming, right into me, and then those arms—those big, crazy strong arms of his—wrap around me. He pulls me up and into him, finding my lips with his and kissing me.
It’s not the sweet kiss of a friend, or the familiar kiss of a lover; it’s desperate, almost pained. His hands splay on my back, one rising up and cradling my head. My knees go weak with the heat pouring off of him. The pained need that he’s communicating finds an answering call inside of me and my own hands dive into his hair, holding him tight.
It wasn’t what I expected—this instant heat, connection, and just…wow. My phone rings, sounding far away in the front of the van. We both ignore it. The kiss goes on. I’m getting light-headed. Mulberry pulls back, still close, looking down into my face. His hazel eyes glitter blue, mimicking the colors of the sky behind him.
Neither of us speak. Words are often the enemy with the two of us. This…our physical connection, has never been a question. The first time we slept together, I was angry, lost in grief, itching for a fight. Mulberry met me there, big enough, and strong enough, to accept all my pain, my anger, and let me thrash at him.
When we made our son, it was his pain we shared. His grief and anger. I met him, not with comfort, but with power. With strength. As he’d always done for me. We share something that is beyond words, intangible yet invincible.
My phone rings again and again, and we ignore it. Mulberry is staring down into my eyes, his open and searching. Our son moves inside me and Mulberry’s eyes widen as he feels it against his own stomach. “Was that?” he asks, his voice awed. I nod. He steps back, his hands loosening, leaving my back and both coming to land on my belly.
Our son punches out and Mulberry’s eyes brighten, his mouth opens, and the joy radiating off the man makes my heart beat faster and my head feel even lighter. I sway slightly and his eyes jump to my face, concern etching his brow into lines.
“I’m okay,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “Are you sure?”
“I just…” My vision spots and Mulberry steps into me, steadying my body.
“Sydney,” he says, his lips on my forehead as he speaks. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I forgot to take my medication this morning,” I say, remembering the pills Dr. Guilder gave me. I lean on Mulberry more heavily, my vision pinpointing.
“Sydney.” Mulberry’s voice sounds panicky but I can’t answer, can’t reassure him. The darkness of unconsciousness takes me, enveloping me in its nothingness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
How many times have I blacked out? Lost consciousness? Countless. I’ve been beaten, drugged, strangled, experienced all the ways that one can leave this plane of existence and slip away into that darkness where time and space do not exist. A kiss, though, that’s new. I’ve never been kissed into unconsciousness. It’s, so far, my favorite way to go; certainly beats being bludgeoned into it.
The headache when I wake isn’t nearly as severe either. Just a mild thrumming rather than the normal pounding. Dr. Guilder stands over me next to a very concerned looking Mulberry. “Sydney,” he says, relief washing over his features as I blink up at him. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.”
“You kissed me into unconsciousness,” I say with a lopsided smile.
He coughs a laugh and shakes his head. “Let’s not blame the kiss.”
Dr. Guilder gently moves Mulberry to the side and shines a pen light into my eyes. I shy away and turn right into Blue’s face. He’s lying on the bed next to me and swipes my nose with his tongue. I let out a short laugh, and turn back toward the doctor. She gently holds my chin and shines the light into my eyes. “Pupils are dilating,” she says. “I think you just fainted.”
“Yeah,” I agree, trying to sit up. But Dr. Guilder puts a strong hand on my shoulder.
“Please, just stay lying down for a moment.”
I roll my lips.
“Sydney,” Mulberry says, his tone warning. “Please, listen to the doctor.”
“Fine.” I rest back onto the pillows. We are in my room. The shades are up and light pours in. I don’t think I lost much time at all. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just forgot to take the meds you gave me this morning.”
“I’d like you to spend the rest of the day in bed,” Dr. Guilder says. “No strenuous activity,” she continues. “Or kissing.”
Mulberry’s cheeks pink and I can’t help the smile that crests my lips. “Okay,” I agree.
“I want you to take your medication now, where is it?”
“In the bathroom, I think.”
Mulberry goes to find it.
“Your blood pressure is out of control, Sydney. I need you to stay in bed, I mean it.”
“I thought bed rest was kind of bullshit,” I say.
“Did you get your medical degree on Google, or was it Yahoo?” she asks with a totally straight face.
I laugh. “Google,” I admit.
She smiles. “I will agree that bed rest has been over-prescribed, but in this case I really think it’s important for you to take it easy right now. Your body is sending pretty clear signals that you need to slow down.”
“Yeah, well, the planet is sending clear signals we need to stop polluting it and we’re not doing that.”
Dr. Guilder’s brow creases. “Did you get your degree in climate science at the same institution as your medical degree?”
I chuckle again. “You don’t need to be a scientist to believe in climate change.”
“Ah,” she says, as if I’ve proven her point. “So then you don’t need a medical degree to accept my medical advice.”
“Touché.”
Mulberry returns with the meds and a glass of water. I sit up to take them and then settle back onto the pillows. “I’ll leave you,” Dr. Guilder says. “Call me if you need me. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Mulberry says.
He walks her out and Frank quickly takes their place at my side, his tongue out and smile goofy. “I’m fine,” I tell him. Nila pushes up next to her brother and I reassure her with some pets as well.
When Mulberry comes back he cocks his head. “Any room in that king-size bed for me?” Blue settles his head on my shoulder as if to claim his spot. Mulberry laughs. “I’m thinking movies and eating all our meals in bed. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”
“Pickles and ice cream for dessert?” he teases.
“I haven’t really had any strange cravings.”
“No?” Mulberry asks. “Want anything now? Did you have breakfast?”
I shake my head. “Just coffee.”
“You have some eggs in the fridge. I’ll make them if you want.”
“Okay.”
Mulberry nods, his expression turning serious. He is now a man on a mission. Minutes later the scent of melting butter drifts in from the kitchenette. I close my eyes, listening to the sounds of Mulberry in my space. The cracking of eggs, the tinkling of a fork against the sides of a bowl as he scrambles them. “Want cheese?” he calls.
“Sure,” I yell back.
He starts to hum to himself. A tune I don’t know but recognize nonetheless. My eyes slide closed and I rest in the darkness, letting the sounds wash over me. It feels good to have him here. To have him taking care of me.
Since James, I’ve never really let anyone take care of me like this, I’ve avoided being vulnerable. Robert is constantly trying to care for me without my permission. Mulberry does it unconsciously; he doesn’t try to take care of me, doesn’t plot and plan to do it—he just does. Could I be happy with just Mulberry? The thought isn’t new. And the answer remains elusive.
I’m literally married to another man—and even if it is a sham marriage, I can’t commit myself fully to someone else while it’s in place. I’m too entangled with both of these men to choose just one. Easier to choose neither. To be alone.
Mulberry returns with a steaming pile of eggs and two pieces of toast slathered in butter. I shift to sit up and send Blue to the foot of the bed. Otherwise he’d be trying to rest his face close to my plate. Blue would never steal food, but if any fell…well, he’d want to be ready for immediate cleanup. He curls into a ball at my feet and rests his chin on one of my ankles, watching me eat my eggs with rapt attention. He’d hate to be remiss in his cleanup duty.
Mulberry settles on the bed next to me while I devour the eggs. “These are delicious,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Butter,” Mulberry says, nodding to himself. “Butter is always the answer.”
He turns on the TV and navigates to a streaming service. “Watching anything good these days?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t really watch TV.”
“Me either. How about a comedy?”
“Sure.”
He chooses something and hits play. I crunch on my toast, looking at him in my bed. He’s wide and solid—looks like a man made of boulders. My gaze tracks down his body, over his worn jeans that fit him very well, to his bare feet—one real, one not. Mulberry lost the lower part of his left leg. He was searching for me when it happened. He lost his memories along with the limb. Forgot about me and what we had.
I didn’t remind him. The betrayal felt right, like I was saving him from me. But when he remembered…well, that’s how I got pregnant. “I…” My voice trails off.
Mulberry glances at me, his eyes a flash of green gold. “What?”
“I’m afraid that…” My voice trails away again, the sound of the movie starting filling the silence.
Mulberry turns to me more fully, his attention falling on my face. “What are you afraid of?” he asks quietly.
I don’t know how to articulate what’s been running through my mind. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He grins. “You never know what you’re doing, Sydney. You run on instinct, on intuition. It works for you.”
“Can I keep doing that, with the…”
“With motherhood.” Mulberry laughs gently, his eyes shining. “I think so, yeah. I mean, I’ve been reading some books on parenting. But—”
“You have?”
“Sure.” He shifts, rolling onto his side, to more fully face me. “I’m going to be a father.” His eyes are shining again, like he’s happy. Really happy. “No matter what happens between us. I’m going to be a dad. And I’m…really happy about that.”
“You are?” Why the fuck are there tears welling in my gaze again! Fucking pregnancy hormones.
“Of course I am. I always wanted to be a dad. But I didn’t think I ever would, with…” He lifts a hand, gesturing to the world at large, and our lifestyle in particular. “I’m so happy this happened. I know it’s a lot more on you than me. But I really want our son.”
“Even though I’m married.”
His face darkens. “I won’t ever accept that, Sydney. He tricked you, stole you. I know you didn’t choose him.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my gaze falling to my empty plate. I put it on the side table, and turn back to Mulberry. “But there is something between us. Me and Robert. A connection.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” Mulberry says, shifting again, this time toward the TV.
“Fair enough. But I was going to tell everyone at the council meeting that his son is trying to kill him.”
“Sounds about right,” Mulberry says.
“And Blue and I were almost caught in the crossfire.”
Mulberry’s gaze falls on me hard and fast. “What?” The question is a low, simmering threat.
“I met with him in Bora Bora to discuss why he was buying up cryptocurrency.”
“You had to have that conversation in Bora Bora?” Mulberry asks, his voice monotone, as if he’s removed all emotion in order to not scream at me.
“It wasn’t my idea—it was the deal he made.”
“He does strike some pretty impressive fucking deals.”
“Well, he sent me away before anything could happen.”
Mulberry’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, anything could happen?”
Before I can answer, my phone rings. The sound is muffled and Mulberry doesn’t acknowledge it. “Where is my phone?” I ask.
He sighs and heaves himself off the bed as though the interruption is killing him. But let’s not forget about my blood pressure; fighting shouldn’t be on the menu for today. And talking with Mulberry about Robert never leads to anything but fighting. Why did I even start down this road?
He comes back moments later with my phone and hands it to me. “I missed a call from my mother.” I swipe the phone open. “Make that three calls.”
“I’ll clean up,” Mulberry offers, taking my plate from the side table. “We should table this conversation anyway. I don’t want to fight with you.” Mulberry leans down and kisses my forehead.
“Watch out,” I joke. “You don’t want to make me pass out again.”
He groans and shakes his head at me. I flutter my eyelashes and he laughs. “You’re killing me,” he says as he turns to leave the room.
I take in a slow deep breath. Maybe. Everyone I love does die…and I do love the fuck out of you.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
My mom picks up on the first ring. “Hi honey, how are you? I’ve been thinking so much about you? How are you feeling?”
“Good, I’m good,” I say. Blue stretches out so that his head can reach my lap. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well. We are in Charleston tonight. We have a lot of people attending—one of our biggest shows ever.” Her voice is high, could be nerves or excitement, or a combo of both. Once my mother used to barnstorm the country with her holy-rolling minister husband, preaching the Christian faith and bilking people of their hard-earned dollars. Now she’s using those same skills, without the mercenary motive, to spread the prophet’s message of female empowerment.
_preview.jpg)
