Page 76 of Longing for Liberty
I walked through the penthouse door and set down my purse and the basket, finding him watching me with his usual hunger.
“Congratulations, Amos. I heard about the pregnancy.”
He prowled forward and said in a low voice, “I wish it were you.” I plastered on a small smile, even as a voice deep inside of me said,ew.And then he was on me, hands everywhere, his face buried in my neck, making me thank God for the millionth time that I couldn’t conceive. He nipped the shell of my ear. “I hated not having you in my arms last night.”
To avoid responding, I moved his face to mine and kissed him. It wasn’t like before. In a matter of days, my body and its reactions to Amos Fitzhugh had become icy, making this whole thing so much more difficult. Dread filled me as I realized this was going to be the hardest ongoing chore of my life.
Jeremy always knew when I wasn’t in the mood, even when I tried to fake it so that I could make him feel good. He wouldn’t have it. If I appeared not to be feeling it in any way, he’d simply hold me instead, saying, “Let’s wait,” and all pressure disappeared. But Amos didn’t seem to notice when I didn’t moan as loudly as before, or didn’t press into him with as much enthusiasm. Maybe he took it that I was getting more comfortable. Whatever the reason, I was thankful that he wasn’t in tune with me.
My palms and cheek were pressed against the door as he finished, and I remained still as he breathed hard behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist.
“Stay with me, Liberty. Don’t go back.”
My heart shivered and sank into the acid bath of my belly. I swallowed back my emotion and nodded. “Whatever you want from me, Amos.”
He pulled out and turned me, grabbing my ass and looking down into my eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“Of course,” I lied. And I hoped he thought the shimmer of tears in my eyes was from happiness. “But what about your wife?”
“She won’t be coming here anymore,” he assured me. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I was glad we weren’t doing the first and second wife thing.
I tried not to think about Jeremy throughout the day. I tried not to think about the possibility of him being issued a brand new eighteen-year-old wife with her fallopian tubes fully intact. About the potential future half-siblings of Summer, Rainey, and Asher. I tried to focus on my role in the resistance and the broader context. In this way, I could help bring them down. Maybe not in my lifetime, but eventually. Hopefully.
I tried to quell the panic about not seeing Jeremy anytime soon. Or the fact that I had nobody to pass along information to.
I tried to keep the reactive depression from setting in.
Don’t think.
Don’t feel.
That afternoon, a new wardrobe was delivered for me. No more maid uniforms, although I’d still be wearing the wifey apron. No more cotton shift-dresses. I was going to look like a second Mrs. Fitzhugh now in professional skirt suits and a variety of dresses, from flowy to sexy. The bright colors and bejeweled adornments looked gaudy to me after six years of plain clothes. And don’t get me started on the vanity in the second bedroom that Amos had filled with brand-new face creams, makeup, hair styling tools, and a vase of roses.
Red fucking roses.
This…wasn’t me. Even before the fall of America, I wasn’t big on getting dolled up except for special occasions and book conventions.
“I know you women like these sorts of things,” Amos said from behind me, his hands in his trousers pockets. He rocked back on his heels, looking almost sheepish. I turned and smiled up at him.
“Thank you,” I told him. “This is going to take some getting used to. Would you like me to wear more makeup?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I know it’s expected though. I suppose there’s something flattering about your woman wanting to look her best for you.”
I nodded, continuing to smile as everything inside of me sank like I was made of quicksand.
“You don’t have to go down to the maid’s office in the mornings anymore. I’ll have everything delivered up here for our meals.”
My brain raced. Did that mean I’d never leave the penthouse? A bout of rising panic made my arms feel itchy and heavy. I forced myself not to rub them.
“Do you mind if I still go?” I asked, tilting my head up at him. “I’m used to taking daily walks for exercise and sunshine. I want to stay healthy…for you.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said.
I went up on my toes and kissed him. “Thank you.”
When it was time to make dinner, I saw with some surprise that there was double of everything, which gave me pause. Amos had made his decision before I arrived this morning and had notified Kathy in the maid’s office. I recalled the heavy look she’d given me when I picked up the basket, like she’d wanted to say something or was waiting for me to say something. I’d been confused at the time, but now I understood. She was wondering if I was okay. And I wasn’t.
But I was getting really good at faking it.
