Chapter 6
651 Words
6
Peter
Sara’s office is walking distance from her apartment, so the drive is just a few short minutes. All too soon, I’m pulling up to the curb and handing Sara her lunch, all the while feeling like I’d sooner gnaw my arm off than let her out of the car.
I hate that I won’t see her all day long, that I won’t be able to touch her or talk to her until evening. It’s even harder than last week because we got to spend this Sunday together—and I now know what paradise feels like.
It’s what we had back in Japan, only without the bitter animosity—without Sara resenting me for stealing her away from her career and everyone she loves.
It takes all my strength to remain seated and calm as she kisses my cheek and whispers, “Love you. See you soon,” before jumping out of the car.
I watch her slim figure disappear into her office building, and then I message the crew to give them their Sara-watching instructions for the day.
If I can’t be with her, at least I’ll know where she is and what she’s doing.
At least I’ll be sure she’s safe.
I spend the morning transferring the funds for the closing this Thursday and organizing the upcoming move. I plan to have us in the new house by next week, which means there’s a lot of work to be done. Though the place has just been renovated and won’t require major upgrades, I have to install proper security measures.
Suburbia or not, our house will be a fortress, and no one—least of all Agent Ryson—will be able to accost Sara at home again.
It’s mid-afternoon and I’m washing vegetables for dinner when my phone vibrates on the countertop. Pressing on the screen with one semi-dry finger, I skim Sara’s text.
So sorry. Just got a call from the clinic. They’re completely overrun, and they’re begging me to come in tonight. It’ll only be until ten or so. Again, I’m so sorry.
The zucchini I was washing snaps in half, and I shove the phone away with my elbow to avoid subjecting it to the same fate.
I should’ve f*****g known. “If no emergencies come up” is code for “an emergency is bound to come up.” It was that way before Japan, and even though Sara’s current job is less focused on the obstetrics side of OB-GYN, her mindset hasn’t changed.
Work still comes first for her, even volunteer work at the clinic.
It takes me a solid twenty minutes to calm down and start thinking rationally. Sara’s career is one of the reasons I went through all that trouble with Novak and Esguerra, why I agreed to give up my revenge on Henderson. Being a doctor—helping patients—is important to her; she needs her career as much as she needs to be near her family and friends. I knew this when I stole her away, but it didn’t matter to me at the time.
All that mattered was keeping her.
Now that I have her and she’s happy, I can’t regress to that way of thinking, can’t forget what it was like when I was the source of her misery, when every time she looked at me, I saw torment in her eyes.
It’s different now. Whatever her remaining reservations, she’s finally admitted that she loves me—loves me enough to have my child.
A daughter or a son… like Pasha.
For a moment, it hurts to breathe again, but then the pain passes, leaving a bittersweet ache in its wake. I’ve been able to think of Pasha like this more and more in recent months, without the rage poisoning the memories. And I know it’s all due to her.
My little songbird whom I so badly want to cage again.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly let it out and focus on the calming task of making dinner.
If Sara can’t come home tonight, I’ll just have to come to her.
- Writer
