Page 24 of Carter

But I can’t do that.

Not if she’s unwilling to make changes.

Instead, I hold her, swaying gently. Whispering words to soothe her.

“Remember when we took that picnic to Central Park? And you told me it was going to rain, but I made you go anyway? And we got so soaked. And then we went for drinks at the bar across the street and we were dripping all over the floor. And the bartender tried to yell at us, but we just laughed and ordered another shot?”

She nods, still crying.

“Remember when you told me you’d never ridden a Ferris wheel? And we drove three hours just to get to that county fair? And we ate fried candy bars and rode that damn thing seven times?”

She gulps her breath, trying to calm herself. She rubs at her eyes and nods again.

“Remember when I brought you to the Village for the first time? And you thought you were dreaming? You made me pinch you so you knew it was real? The women all wanted to meet you—they loved you as much as I did.”

She sniffles, nodding.

“Remember when we drove up to the mountains for the weekend? And you saw that woman selling quilts by the side of the road and you made me pull over so you could buy one? And you’ve slept under it every night since?”

Her body shudders. She stammers, “N-no… not—every night since.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, smoothing her hair. I rub her back, finding a less upsetting avenue. “What about the time we went to Greece to see your parents. Remember? You said it was the most romantic trip you’d ever been on. That your parents loved me. We had so much fun together.”

“You proposed the week we got back,” she says through her tears. Her shoulders are shaking.

“On the rooftop. The weather was perfect and⁠—”

“But it was all a lie!” she cries.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

She’s crying and hiccupping, and her nose is running. “You told me the truth, the night we broke up—Bronson didn’t want us to get married. He doesn’t think I’m good enough for you. He told you not to marry me and you just let him. You should have punched him right in the nose. How could you let him say that about me!”

“First of all, punching the head of the family in the nose would get me killed,” I say, trying to make a joke. It falls flat. She’s still crying. Then I tell the truth. My voice is soft as I hold her shoulders. “Second, he was right. He said he had concerns about you following through.”

“That bastard⁠—”

“There’s my little tiger. I was wondering when her fire would come back.”

I put my hand on her still bared ass, squeezing gently. It’s warm to the touch. I say, “Careful, baby.”

She winces. “Sorry. But he’s wrong! I did everything that was asked of me. I followed through with the security clearance. I signed all the documents. I’ve upheld my pledge to keep everything secret⁠—”

I press my hands into her shoulders again, this time steadying her. I search her face until I hold her gaze. Locking my eyes on her, I say, “But you didn’t follow through when it came to the lifestyle. Sure, you’ve adopted all the Bachman ways… save for one.”

She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. Her bottom lip trembles. She doesn’t want to say the word. I find her stubbornness so adorable, I almost smile. My face quickly falls as I remember her stubbornness could be what ends us.

Finally, she looks away and whispers, “Submission?”

After what we’ve been through, I’ll take what I can get for a starting point. I lower my voice, softly say, “That’s right. And to live the Bachman way, you must live it fully.”

She says, “I was so angry that night. When you told me you’d asked Bronson’s permission, and he didn’t want me. I spun out of control. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that he didn’t want you. He was just afraid of⁠—”

Before I can finish, she looks up, eyes locked on mine. They’re red from crying. There are dark circles beneath them. But within those captivating irises, I recognize a flash of that famous Sasha determination that I love so much.

She says, “I accept the ways of the Bachman women.”