Page 71 of Love At First Fright
A relieved part of her brain cheered:Finally.Rosemary had always wanted to experience the subspace, the euphoric dream state that subs could fall into during sex, but she’d never quite got there. Not with Noah, the man she’d first experienced soft domination with, even though she’d trusted him. There was something different about being with Ellis; it wasn’t just that her guard was down, but that she felt so safe handing him control when they were having sex. He knew what to do to get her there, as he’d proven time and again. It helped that he was the singularly hottest man she’d ever seen and touched in her entire life.
“I can die happy now,” Rosemary replied, her limbs all wobbly and soft against Ellis.
Ellis smoothed a hand over her head, brushing strands of her hair from her eyes. “In a bit, when we’re out of the bath, we’ll get some food for you, too.” He was still taking care of her.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked, tentatively.
“That was the best sex of my life, Rosemary. Like I said, you were made for me.”
They relaxed in silence for a minute or two, the water soothing any aches in Rosemary’s muscles. Outside, the rain seemed to have stopped, and the sunlight coming through the window had that bright post-rainstorm quality to it.
“This reminds me of that time in the swimming pool,” Ellis said.
“You mean the time you ruined my book and pushed me off my floatie?” Rosemary raised an eyebrow.
“Got you a new book, though. I wanted you, from then onreally, you know. Even if I was lying to myself.” She could feel him growing hard again underneath her, his hands sliding up and down the curve of her hips and thighs.
“You’ve made up for lost time now,” she said. Ellis kissed her cheek but this time left his face leaning against hers.
Rosemary thought about it for a moment then said: “You know, when we’re back in London after Hallowvale, would you want to come to one of my signings? It’s not premiere-level fancy, but I would like it if you came.”
“I’ll be there, I can’t wait to see you in your element.”
After that, they dozed in the bath, Ellis’s finger tracing a meandering line around her tattoos. She knew she’d never felt this comfortable around anyone else so fast. If it didn’t feel like the most natural thing in the world, she would have thought it strange. Ellis felt like home to her.
“Do you think there will be strawberries in the garden? I wouldn’t mind making some jam to go with breakfast tomorrow,” Rosemary said.
“At this time of year, probably not, but we could wander down to the village and pick some up? Maybe a nice bottle of wine for dinner?”
“Sounds perfect.”
26
That afternoon, Rosemary discovered shehad a new kink: watching Ellis harvest potatoes and parsnips in the garden. Alright, maybe it was seeing him play-fighting with Fig over a carrot, wiping his muddy hands on his thighs that was doing it. Either way, Rosemary was a happy lady.
Mr. Tokes had been right; there was an abundance of root vegetables in the garden that were ready to be plucked from the ground. There was a row of long, thick leeks, the rounded leaves of potatoes, another row of green-tufted parsnips, and a feathery row of carrot tops. Fig was having the time of her life gnawing on a carrot.
It had been ages since Rosemary had harvested from a vegetable patch. Her parents had one where they grew seasonal fruit and vegetables, and when her mom had been at her sickest, Dad would blend all the harvest into soups for her to sip. The memories of that time rose to the surface, and Rosemary sat with them softly.
The late afternoon brought with it more rain, and they hurried indoors. Setting themselves up in the kitchen,Rosemary and Ellis stood side by side as Ellis washed and sliced the veg, Rosemary chopping up the strawberries to make jam. They’d had to pop to the local grocer for them, but it would be worth it.
“Is this your jam recipe?” Ellis asked.
“It was my nana’s. We’re lucky Mr. Tokes keeps a well-stocked pantry; the secret ingredient is a splash of rosewater. I don’t make it as much as I used to.”
Rosemary remembered the last time she’d made it for her mama. The paranoia had set in by then, a side effect of the morphine and the tumour, and she had refused to eat anything, convinced it was poison. The memory ached and scraped at her. She knew that wasn’t her, it was the terror and pain speaking. She inhaled deeply, realising that she wanted to tell Ellis, to share it all with him.
“I think it’s because I made it so often for my mom in the end, that I kind of associate it with her. And pavlovas, too, topped with jam. She used to love those, and she needed the calories.”
Ellis leant over and kissed Rosemary’s head. “Can I ask what happened?”
“Cancer. She was actually sick for a really long time, on and off. People always imagine cancer is this disease that you get diagnosed with and then three months later you’re gone. And I know that happens a lot when they don’t catch it early. But with her, they caught it early, it was just stage two at the start. She had chemo and a mastectomy, and then it went away.”
Rosemary felt her voice turning thick, but she pushed through it.
“Then we had a few good years. The flower farm was doing well, Mama and Dad were happy. Though, they always were. It came back the summer right before I started senioryear, but this time in her brain. Stage four. There wasn’t much they could do at that point. The doctors were amazing, they put her forward for all kinds of new treatments, and some of them worked for a little while. But it was all just buying time. Every month she seemed weaker and weaker, unable to help on the farm anymore. All she could do was sit on the porch and boss my dad about, though I don’t think he minded. One day, we were eating a picnic dinner out by the cherry tree in our yard, and she told us—me and my dad—that she was done. She was tired. That’s the only time I really remember the two of them fighting.”
Rosemary recalled the argument; their muffled voices, her dad pleading. She wanted her mom to stay, she would have given anything for it, but her mom had been so adamant, so sure. Behind it all, Rosemary remembered the relief that she wouldn’t need to see her mom remain in pain for much longer. There was no greater pain than watching your parent suffer and being helpless to fix it.
