Page 78 of Pretend for Me

“Did I tell you Henry kissed me?” Audrey squealed like a little girl.

“What? Already? You guys aren’t even a thing yet, are you?” I inquired, laughing a little at how fast Audrey and Henry were moving.

“Maybe we are.” Audrey blushed ten shades of red.

At that very moment, there was a knock at the door. “Knock knock,” Dr. Torres announced, entering the room. “I’m here to spring you, man.” He beamed at Matthew.

“Finally.” I breathed out a sigh of relief, caressing Matthew’s cheek.

“Now, Matthew, we talked about the protocol. I’m not going to nag you twice, but don’t pull your stitches. Don’t overdo it. Go to physical therapy. And meet Dr. Mack a week from today to check on your wound. Otherwise, I think you’re good to go,” Henry instructed, giving a wink to Audrey. He turned back to Matthew and me, and he remarked, “I would lay off the sexual activity until your appointment too.” He laughed and Audrey joined in.

The doctor started for the door and then as if he remembered something, turned around to speak. “Oh and Audrey, we are definitely a thing.” He winked once more and left the room.

Audrey and I burst out into hysterics, and Audrey started doing some sort of happy dance to which Matthew started laughing so hard it hurt.

“Oh no,mister. You heard Dr. Torres—no physical exertion.” I straightened the white towel around my form.

I had just exited the en suite bathroom, and Matthew was on me like glue.

Truth of the matter was we both missed connecting in a physical way. We had just gotten each other back from a long time apart before Matthew’s shooting, and we were still ravenous for one another.

“Baby, I’mfine,” Matthew stressed, wrapping his arms around my torso. “Dr. Mack even said I was fine last appointment. I think his words were, ‘healthy as a horse’ in fact.” His eyes narrowed, trying to break my resolve.

Matthew knew how traumatized I was over the shooting, and so was Matthew, which was why there was no denying we both needed therapy. Not to mention, before we had sex again, I wanted to pick up some more condoms because we’d run out. Since Matthew’s near-death experience, my fear of having children had heightened ten-fold. When I had mentioned it, Matthew was puzzled. I knew I needed to finally come clean.

“I thought you were on the pill. Why do we need both? We should be covered, baby,” he reasoned, sitting up in bed.

I handed him a tray of food that housed a turkey sandwich on rye. I patted Rocky’s fur, ensuring that he didn’t get too close to Matthew and accidentally hurt him further.

“I just want to make sure there are no babies in our future,” I mumbled, my eyes cast to the floor.

This wasn’t a great time to be having this conversation, but I knew if we had any chance at a future, we needed to have these hard discussions.

Ever since hearing about Lana dying during childbirth all those years ago, I couldn’t shake the paralyzing fear of getting pregnant and dying and subsequently leaving my child with the possibility of foster care. Matthew being shot only strengthened my resolve. The traumatic event only proved to me how delicate life was and how Matthew could also die. I explained all this to Matthew, unable to look at him, knowing this might be the end of us.

Matthew would be a wonderful father, I knew this. And I couldn’t—wouldn’t—rip the opportunity from him because of my damage.

I was damaged, I argued and was ready to leave him once and for all.

Matthew nearly ripped his stitches, pulling me to him in the bed. I scolded him as he gently held me.

“You are not damaged. You have fears. We all do. It's perfectly normal after what we both went through as children,” he resounded, cradling my face in his hands.

“I wouldn’t say any of this is normal. I wouldn’t even use that word in the same sentence as myself.” I snorted a laugh and then bit my lip.

Matthew grinned because at least I could joke about it. “Who wants to be normal anyways? If you didn’t have fears, then I’d be worried,” Matthew assured me, shooing Rocky away from his sandwich.

I picked at my fingers nervously. Matthew gathered my hands in his in an effort to get me to stop.

“Cassie.” He urged me to look at him. “I don’t care if you don’t want to get pregnant one day. Fine. We’ll get more dogs or even a cat. Or if you want kids but don’t want to get pregnant, there’s always adoption. Who the hell knows what the future holds. But what I do know is that we don’t have to decide that now.” He grabbed my chin so I would look him in the eye. “All I want is you. I love you.” He peppered my face with kisses until I pushed him away gingerly, insisting on making something for Rocky to eat.

The conversationonly further proved how desperately we both needed therapy. I agreed and we were making an appointment for next month once Matthew was more mobile and steadily on his way to recovery.

“Maybe we can do other things that don’t require thrusting,” he joked, shaking his hips slightly. “No condoms required either.” Matthew waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

My resolve was faltering, as Matthew rubbed up and down my arms. When he kissed my neck, sucking on the spot that made my toes curl, I was a goner.

“Fine, but you are just going to lie there. I’ll do all the work,” I deadpanned, as I dropped my towel.