I looked at Micah, expecting him to be enjoying the view of scantily clad women, but he was looking at me.
He put his arm around me. "And I won't be going anywhere without you."
That made me smile. But I was all too aware of how unattractive I looked. My eyes drifted back to the beaches.
He took my chin in his hand. "Don’t worry, we won't be anywhere near the beaches. I have a small cabin rented in the mountains. There’s a 30 foot waterfall visible from the back deck."
"What about everyone else?"
"They are staying on the beach, but we won’t see them much until we leave again. I've had my fill of Susan and Cato."
"What about Alex?"
"What about Alex?" he asked, looking at me suspiciously.
"He’s kind of your brother, well, adopted brother – don't you want to see him?"
"No. I don't want to chance him getting in the way of my view."
I laughed, shaking my head as he continued to look at me. "Don't worry, you would be hard pressed to find someone that could block my profile." I stuck my stomach out further.
"I know. I can't believe how big she must be getting in there." He placed his hands on my belly, and was rewarded with a small kick.
"Oh my God, I felt her! That is so awesome!"
"Awesome?" I groaned. "She is sitting directly on top of my bladder, using my kidney as a punching bag and head-butting my ribs."
"That's my girl!" He rubbed my belly proudly.
"No taking sides! Not until you can see her face!"
Micah kissed me square on the lips again.
"What was that for?"
"I don't know." He looked just as confused as me. "I guess I'm just, so happy."
I punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow!” He rubbed at it. “What was
that
for?"
"Because. All it took was for us to separate for like, four months, for you to be happy."
He sighed. "Just for the record, I was miserable for those four months. And – it will not be happening again."
"You say that now – but that’s not always under your control." I leaned back in the seat, crossing my arms; that small motion was even becoming difficult to do.
The taxi turned onto an unpaved, rocky road, leading up to a row of houses. Driving through the island, there seemed to be a wide gap in income level. We had passed scores of shantytowns, full of wood shacks packed together, that would border the property of large mansions. Luckily, this row of houses was neither. They were traditional Creole houses; modest, cozy-looking, and best of all – private. A small grove of trees sat between each house, blocking one another from view. A steep, red-tiled roof sat on top of a cream-colored house. Vines grew up the stony sides. The small white porch with wicker rocking chairs leading up to the house all looked very inviting but at the same time sturdy and safe, built to withstand season after season of the relentless cyclones known to plague the area.
"It's perfect, Micah."
"Thanks. Susan didn't like it so much. Not close enough to the water for her tastes."
"I would turn down the whole damn shoreline for this. I could live here the rest of my life."
Micah laughed. "Let's say we look inside before declaring plans for the rest of our lives, huh?"
I was undeterred even after a tour of the small home. Sporting two cozy bedrooms upstairs, one much larger than the other, both with slanted ceilings from the rooftop; I couldn't help but think how perfect it was. The small room could make a great nursery.
The rest of the house sat on the main floor. A living room, a kitchen with windows on three sides – all with breath-taking views of the surrounding mountains – and a small dining area. The house was modestly furnished, but had all of the basic necessities.
"I can rearrange the furniture if you don't like it the way it is," Micah said.
"What do you mean? We shouldn't be moving around the owner's furniture."
Micah took a deep breath. "We are the owners."
It took me a moment to process it. "What?"
"I, or rather
we
, bought the place. Your name’s on the title too."
I looked around, awestruck that I actually owned something this great. Well, half of something, technically.
"I hope you're not mad," Micah continued. "I just loved it so much, and I was so excited to see you and actually start our life together. I thought we were close enough to the Chakra, but in a somewhat private place, away from— "
"Shh." I put my finger up to his lips. "Shut up and let me think."
He couldn't shut up. "If you don't like it just say so. It would sell easily enough. I was supposed to propose to you here – Susan had it all planned out."
"Micah. Shut. Up." I don't think I had ever heard him talk so much in the span of two minutes since I had known him. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The sweet and tangy scent of hibiscus drifted in through the windows, but it was the homey scent of ginger that made me smile. It smelled like home. More than home. It felt like everything I imagined heaven to be.
I felt tears gathering under my lids, and when I opened my eyes they brimmed over. "I love it, Micah. Everything’s perfect. Thank you." I hugged him. It was awkward, with the baby in-between us.
"Wait. The baby." I suddenly remembered. "What are the hospitals like here?"
"Not the best. Which is why I was expecting the doctor to stay…"
"Oh, please. That doctor would have killed one of us, if not both."
"What?"
"Don't you do background checks on the people that you hire? I mean, first Vayu – then Doctor Mengele."
"Ok, ok – ease up. Vayu was well established within the organization; been with us almost as long as I have. No one saw him coming—"
"Not even with all that glitter?" I raised an eyebrow.
Micah ignored my interruption. "And the doctor was Cato's doing. It was my impression he was well ensconced within our community and at the very least maintains our secrets."
My lower back was starting to ache. I rubbed it. "What you guys need is an HR department."
"Want the job?" Micah moved behind me, pushed away my hands, and did a much better job of alleviating the pain.
I hummed in pleasure, and let my head fall back on his chest. "No way. I'd spend all my time dealing with sexual harassment claims against you."
"What?"
"The ones I'd be filing. You know, because of inappropriate touching..." His hands were kneading lower and lower, working out the non-existent kinks in my buttocks. "Lewd comments..." He leaned forward, licking my ear and commented on how big my breasts were getting. "And sexual advances." His hands snaked around to grab hold of my hips, pulling me back into him. I rubbed up against him, then angled my head back, mouth open, hungrier for him than I ever had been.
We kissed again. His lips were so soft, and his tongue so insistent. For the first time in months, I felt the urgent tingling inside and yearned for him to push me back on the couch, spread my legs and...
Knock, knock
.
"Damn it! Someone's here." He reluctantly let go of me, and I had to work to steady myself. He looked back at me as he went to answer the door. "There are drinks and snacks in the kitchen. See if there is anything you like."
As I scoured the refrigerator and came out with orange juice and yogurt, giggling floated in from the living room. I straightened, back and shoulders going stiff with anger. Female giggling, the fake, flirty kind that was too high pitched and forced. The kind that told the receiving end,
I am totally into you and would suck your
... Jesus, what was wrong with me?
I closed my eyes and summoned Arianna.
Is someone interfering?
I asked.
Someone who can't keep their hormones in check?
No, Kaitlyn.
She answered almost immediately.
That is all you.
More giggling, but this time inside my head.
Great, no one to blame but myself. Much harder to deal with your faults when you couldn't pin it on anyone else.
"Kaitlyn – are you ok?" Micah was in the doorway to the kitchen, his brows furrowed. "Your face is going red."
"
Qu'avez-vous dit?
" The culprit moved next to Micah, placing one hand on the bulge of his bicep. Her eyes went slightly wider with pleasure as she pawed his arm. She held a feather duster in her other hand.
I squeezed the yogurt cup so hard, the lid popped off, hitting me in the face and squirting yogurt down the front of my shirt. The heat in my face increased, embarrassment heaping on top of anger.
She turned at the noise and gasped seeing me, removing her hand so quickly from Micah’s arm you'd have thought he was on fire. Which he would be, if he didn't choose his next words carefully.
"Kaitlyn, this is Marie, the maid. I forgot she was coming today." He kept his voice soothing, like he was trying to talk down a stomping rhino.
"I see. And just how often does she...come?" I breathed through gritted teeth.
"Once a week."
"
Qui est-elle
, Micah?" The way she said his name,
Mee-ka
, the last syllable stressed with an extra high pitch, caused me to bring back my yogurt-wielding arm, taking aim for her face.
"Kaitlyn!"
I looked at him, confused. "What?"
"What’s the matter with you?"
"What is the matter with me? With me?? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm upset because while I was stuck at the Chakra, pregnant, under constant attack, trying to figure out whatever is going on inside me with these Shades -
you
are gallivanting around, getting 'dusted off' by French maids."
"You’re being ridiculous."
"No." I looked down at myself. "I am being a pregnant, stressed out woman, covered in vomit and yogurt, and now I have to compete with the likes of her?"
The air around us crackled with electricity. I felt my hair rising up and out in reaction to the static. I straightened, arms puffing out with invisible lat syndrome. The entire effect gave to the appearance of me growing, and the little French puff, still standing next to Micah, now shrank back in fear.
Micah stepped toward me, holding out his arms as if to intercept me should I go for her. "There is no competition, Kaitlyn. Look at your left hand. Who’s wearing the ring?"
I looked down, and smiled. "You are right, dear. All the better to hit her with." I curled my hand into a fist, intending to use the ring like a set of brass knuckles.
The tart let out a scream, turned tail, and ran for the front door. I whirled my right hand in a circle, lassoing what air would come to me in that quick few seconds, and hurled it her way, effectively pushing her the last few steps out of the house. The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut behind her was the tiny, pink thong that disappeared between her butt cheeks under her too short skirt, as she went sprawling face first down the porch steps.
Suddenly quiet after the maelstrom of yelling and wind, I looked at Micah, smoothed out my hair, and said, "I need a shower."