Across the Pond Ch. 07

"Well excuse the fuck out of me for not being upset you didn't get your dick wet by some tweaked-out Grindr asshole." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I leaned into his side. "I'm sorry, I know it sucks -- but I need to know you're getting better. I can't leave if you're not."

"Don't pin that shit on me, Darcy probably hates me enough as it is." I locked my arms around my friend and squeezed hard enough for a hard breath to come whooshing out of him. "Look girlie, I'm okay. Getting better every day, it'd just be easier if I could get some ass. I need a distraction."

"Ooh! I may have just the distraction for you. How do you feel about a quiet brunette with glasses who just made junior partner and drives a very sensible Audi?"

He crinkled his whole face in distaste. "Nothing. I feel nothing for any of that."

I took my phone back out and started texting Brian, one of the disastrous blind dates my mother set me up on at the beginning of the summer. Lucky for me - and hopefully Colin - he turned out to be gay as the day is long. "He's perfect for you, he'll totally mellow you out.

"You're turning into Charlotte, you know."

My head shot up from the screen and I opened my mouth to protest the comparison to my mom, then shook my head and went back to texting. "Yeah I don't care, this is happening," I teased, waving my phone in his face. Colin threw his hands up and retreated to the kitchen, my meddling ass skipping behind him.

The rest of the shift was slow but steady, mostly regulars now that Yale co-eds were starting to gear up for the next school year. It was nearing our midnight closing time and there was only one guy left sitting at one of the back tables. He'd been coming in every night since I'd been back, and even a few nights before I left for London the last time. His Hulk-like stature was always cloaked in the shadows while nursing bottles of water. I tried to talk to him once but he'd only given quiet one-word answers, so I gave up trying to figure out his deal and left him alone. He didn't bother anyone and always left a good tip so if he wanted to be weird, good for him.

The main door opened and shut and I inwardly cussed out Tony for not locking the damn thing yet. "We're closing so whatever you want make it quick," I called out over my shoulder. I wanted to go home and go to bed, after a little phone sex with the husband if I could catch him before he left for the office.

"Hey, Syd."

I froze, the blood in my veins turning to ice at the overly-familiar gruff greeting. Adrenaline started to kick in and I had to force myself to breathe normally. I turned around and looked into the baby blue eyes of my ex-boyfriend.

Jeremy.

I hadn't seen him since his sentencing day in court. His head was shaved, just black whispers of stubble covering his scalp and face. His hands were shoved in his pockets, on the offensive, standing mere feet in front of me on the other side of the bar. "It's...been a long time. You look good."

"What are you doing here?" It came out barely above a whisper. I tried to appear composed but my pulse was beating so loud in my ears I couldn't hear the music coming from the speakers anymore.

He took a step closer, his eyes lazily taken me in like he'd done a hundred times before. "I just got out and I wanted to talk. Apologize."

I swallowed and tried to discreetly take in my surroundings. There was a knife still sitting on the cutting board on the bar but he could reach it just as easily as I could. I re-ran all the disarming maneuvers from my self-defense class before I worked up the nerve to speak again. "You can't be here, you need to leave."

"I know, I just...you gotta let me explain, okay?"

"There's nothing to explain," I spat out, anger bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over. Fear forgotten, I was three seconds away from stabbing his pathetic body until he bled out all over the concrete floor. "Get out. Now."

Jeremy moved to say something else when the startlingly large stranger suddenly appeared behind him. "I believe the lady asked you to leave," he commanded in a cold accent. How many British guys are migrating to Connecticut?

My ex shot the man a nasty look over his shoulder. "Look dude, we're talking here -- "

"Not anymore. Now you can either leave or I can toss you out of here myself." A frightening smile spread across his face and I stepped back from them both. "Please mate, give me an excuse to toss you out."

Jeremy was stupid but not that stupid. He coughed and turned back to me. "I'll see you later, Syd," he promised before leaving and walking out the front door. When it shut behind him I finally let out the breath I'd been holding in. "Thanks, uh...?"

"Allen,'' the beast in all black before me introduced himself. "Are you alright, Mrs. James-Holland?"

My entire body started shaking with nervous laughter, I was teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown. "Okay, who the hell are you and how do you know my name?"

Whoever the fuck he was, his phone rang in his hand and he answered. "Yes Sir...yes, Sir." He pushed the Blackberry smartphone toward me. "Your husband Ma'am."

I snatched the shit out of his hand and pressed it to my ear. "Maxwell, what the hell? Who the fuck is this guy?"

"Are you alright, Sydney?" he asked, completely ignoring my question. When I said I was he asked me to give the phone back. I handed it over to Allen, who calmly listened to my husband yelling on the other end of the line. "Yes Sir, I understand. I will keep you abreast of the situation." He hung up and stuck the phone in his front pocket. "Mr. Holland has requested I return you to your flat where you are to ring him upon your arrival."

I crossed my arms over my chest and planted my feet. Fuck. That. "Look man, I don't know -- or care -- what my husband said, but I'm not going anywhere with you until you explain who the fuck you are."

"I am your private bodyguard, Mrs. James-Holland," he stated matter-of-factly.

I gawked at him, fully not knowing how I was supposed to react to that. I went with anger. Anger I could deal with. I started to take off my apron. "Yeah, okay. Let's go." I couldn't wait to go home and tear my husband a new one."

***

V. Save Me.

Except I didn't go home right away.

I was so disturbed, and pissed, and honestly a little scared shitless from my run-in with Jeremy. So I went to the gym and pummeled all my frustration into the punching bag until my arms and legs felt like jelly. Then I went to the 24-hour market and did my grocery shopping, all while Allen trailed behind me like a shadow. By the time I did get home it was almost 3 a.m.: I went into my house and Allen went into Holland's, with explicit instructions for me to let him know if I wanted to leave. It's imperative, he explained. Fuckface.

I slammed my door shut and dropped all the grocery bags on the floor before punching Holland's number into my phone so hard I wanted to crack the screen. "I believe I told you to go straight home after your shift," he answered immediately.

"Technically you told Allen," I mocked angrily. "I mean, seriously? A bodyguard? What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"If you'll kindly stop yelling at me for a moment I will explain," I tapped my foot impatiently, silently urging him to get on with it so I could resume my shitfit. "I spoke with your father a few days ago. We discussed Mr. Rosenthal's release from prison and he shares my concern. Allen and his partner Rhodes have already been watching over you for weeks and are instructed to do so until my return."

"Okay, and when was anyone going to tell me?"

"There was no need to tell you anything as long as he kept his distance. Thankfully Allen was there when he dared to come into the pub last evening."

I saw red. Literal, fire-in-the-hole red. "Oh, because I'm so goddamn weak I can't look after myself? Now I have to have a babysitter? Nah, this isn't happening. This is my life -- "

"And you're my wife," Max cut me off. "I made a solemn oath to keep you safe. You need to see this is all for your protection and your father agrees with this course of action. Allen will stay in my flat and you are to inform him of your comings and goings. You'll go to the pub, the gym and home. If you desire to travel anywhere else, you will inform me first and arrangements will be made. When you come to London we'll revisit alleviating your restrictions." I heard the clicking and unclicking of a pen on his end of the line. "I understand you'd upset but this is for the best. My mind is put at ease knowing you're looked after."

"Well, as long are you're happy, Holland." I hung up and threw the phone at the coffee table, wrapping my arms around my body. I fucking hated feeling like a prisoner. I swore I wasn't going to allow myself to be one after Jeremy or anyone else, and that's when I realized I wasn't done bitching about it. I snatched the phone off the ground and dialed my dad's cell. "James," his groggy voice barked out.

God, his stupid voice just fed into my rage. "So you won't return any of my fucking phone calls, but you have no fucking problem plotting with my husband behind my back?"

I was responded to with a defiant yawn. "Sydney, if you have an issue, work it out with your husband. Otherwise, blow it out your ass until normal daytime hours." The line went dead and I screamed into the empty room, flopping over onto the couch and shoving a pillow over my face. My fairytale was quickly spinning into a nightmare.

***

VI: High Highs to Low Lows.

I complied with my husband's insane orders for the next few days. I went to work and back home all with Allen following, even though I couldn't see him half the time. For someone so damn muscular he was surprisingly stealthy.

There were no more Jeremy sightings so I guess had that going for me.

I wasn't hungry, so I didn't eat. I was too wired to sleep so when I was home I dazed out on the couch, trying to figure out how everything went to shit so quickly. For two days Holland and I did nothing but argue over the phone so I gave up and stopped talking to him. I was worn out and stir crazy and couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Sunday afternoon and I was lying on my couch where I'd been since coming home from work 12 hours before. I was staring at the Golden Girls on the TV without really watching it, my eyes so badly wanting to close but my body refusing to allow me to shut down. The front door unlocked and opened behind my head but I didn't bother turning to see who it was. Only when I felt a chilled hand on my forehead did my eyes finally look up. "Daddy?"

"Jesus Syd, you're burning up," he came around and sat next to my feet. Pale eyes were colored with concern as he took a digital thermometer out of his jacket pocket and leaned forward to stick it in my ear. "What are you doing here?" I croaked out, my throat raw like I hadn't used it in days.

Three beeps alerted my temperature was recorded, he took it out and read the results before turning it off, then pulled a flimsy stethoscope from underneath the collar of his shirt. Sticking the buds in his ear he undid the top buttons of my shirt to listen to my heart and lungs. Dad had double majored in college - pre-med with pre-law - and even though he decided to go the lawyer route you'd swear he thought he was House, M.D. "Well kiddo, you never called me back to finish yelling at me and your husband wanted to see if you were okay because you hadn't called to yell at him either. Take a deep breath?" He pressed the diaphragm against my chest and I inhaled then exhaled slowly. "And as your mom always says: if you're not bitching at someone you're probably sick. Can you sit up?"

I groaned and I grabbed onto the back of the couch, him gently pulling me up by the elbows and listening to my back while I breathed. He smelled like he always did: grapefruit and cigars. I had to fight back the urge to start bawling like a baby. "You been sleeping?" I shook my head and he helped me lie down, covering me back up from foot to neck. "Eating?" Another shake followed and he sighed. "I get it Flower, you're pissed. Okay? Your point has been made. You get like this every time you feel out of control."

I sniffled and bright the blanket up to my nose, glaring at him from behind the safety of Nana's quilt. "I thought controlling me was everyone else's job judging by all the secret phone calls going on behind my back."

Dad rubbed his growing facial hair in his hand. "You make it sound like we're plotting some elaborate death scheme. It's for your safety, Syd."

"You should have told me. You know how much I hate being in the dark about Jeremy shit. I mean, hell Dad, we've been through this before!"

Between the time of the incident and the trial him and my mom hired a bodyguard for me and didn't say anything. We had an explosive fight when I discovered I was being trailed and he swore he'd never do anything like it again without my consent. Men and promises, all for shit. "Hey, I explained that to him but he seemed to think he knew what was best for you. Better for him to find out the hard way. He told me how much shit you've been giving him -- I was filled with self-righteous glee."

I twisted my lips to the side and tried not to smile. "You're an asshole."

"That's the main perk of being the father-in-law." He sat back and rubbed my ankles. "You need to eat and get some goddamn sleep. And call your husband, okay? I may not like him but he's worried sick about you. You want me to stay for a little while?"

I told him I did and he started shrugging off his jacket. I yawned heavily, poking at him with my toes. "Are you still mad at me?"

Tossing his coat onto the coffee table he pulled my legs on top of his but stared at the TV instead of me. "I should be grateful I didn't have to shell out the money for another wedding, but...I kind of always looked forward to walking you down the aisle, Flower."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Yeah, me too." He patted my leg and I snuggled down, finally succumbing to some much-needed rest.

***

VII. Prisma.

"You stupid BITCH!"

His heavy hand connected with my face so hard it sent me crashing into the coffee table, my ribs and lower back catching the brunt of it before I fell to the floor. The slap delivered was just the precursor, the appetizer of abuse, followed by swift kicks to the stomach while I screeched for him to stop. "Stop? You want me to stop?! You don't get to ask me for anything, you fucking whore!"

"I di-didn't..." I tried to form words but they refused to come. I wanted to scream but my voice was being replaced by the blood and bile rising in my throat. Grabbing me by the hair he dragged me across the floor while I clawed at his exposed arm, throwing me against the bookshelf so Sam's journals fell on me like heavy rain. "Say something else, Syd, I swear to God..."

I spat out a mouthful of blood, using up what little fight I had left in my body. "Just...kill...me you...bastard..."

"Kill you? Nah." The clink of a belt buckle sent my eyes wide with an entire new level of fear forming. His mouth curled up in an evil smirk and I attempted to crawl to my bedroom before freezing hands grabbed my ankle and snatched me back into place. "I won't kill you, baby, I love you. Let me show you just how fucking much."

"Sydney!"

I woke up with a gasp, like I had been drowning and it was the saving grace of air to my lungs. I thrashed about in the lingering frames of the dream but I was being restrained, my wrists secured between strong hands while I was being pulled up and shaken out of my sleep. My eyes were open and unfocused, but I'd recognize the scent of his cologne anywhere. "M...M-Max?"

Tears streamed down my face faster than his speedy fingers could clear them away. He gave up and pulled me into his chest, sweet affection filling the space while I crawled out of the stink of fear and shame. He rubbed my back and asked me about my dream, listening quietly until I had stuttered the whole thing out. He told me how everything was alright, how everything would be alright, how I'd never be in harm's way again. He promised over and over and over again. I wanted to believe him. Maybe I would, one day. Right then all I needed was to be held by the person I loved.

We sat in the streaming sunlight for a while, eventually moving onto the floor for more room. Max laid on his back and I settled my body on top, sinking my weight into him. His phone would occasionally ding or vibrate but the only movement his hands made was stroking up and down my spine. I may have fallen asleep again, I didn't remember. Everything was warm and bright for a little while and he let me rest into it. At least until I realized something. "Ohhh my God, I'm so funky. I need a shower."

"I wasn't going to say anything, but I really need to use the toilet," he groaned back and that I actually had to laugh, my poor blond boy's bladder. I rolled over and off him right before he sprang up and made his way to the bathroom. I raised my arms over my head and let the heat of the sun's rays wash over me while the toilet flushed and running water started. I almost slipped back under until I felt my body being lifted off the ground and into the air, a little ahh escaping my lips as my husband carried me into the bathroom.

He stripped and headed in first while I brushed about two days of funk out of my mouth. A final spit in the sink and I got naked, opening the glass door and stepping inside, the audible click of the door behind me bringing the nerves back.

Fucking Holland looked so damn good dripping wet.

The muscles of his chest flexed and pulled with every movement, water droplets illuminating the bright ink on his arm like a blacklight. He was letting the hot water rain down his head like a waterfall before wiping his face, and that's when I noticed four deep, angry looking lines across his left cheek. I gently grabbed his chin and twisted his head so I could get a better look. "Shit. I scratched you."

"It's alright, I'm no worse for wear." He shifted us so that I was underneath the spray while his back faced the wall, stupid tears welling up in my eyes again. "It was only an accident little one, don't cry. It's perfectly fine."

"No, it's not. I hurt you. I'm so, so sorry. It's, I..." I dropped my head to look at my feet right when the first tear dropped off the end of my nose. "I'm already fucking this up and I am so sick of crying."

"Sydney, you aren't..." he nudged my face with his nose and I still refused to look at him. "What is happening with my wife? And don't tell me you don't know. There is nothing you can say that would drive me away."

I took in a good lungful of air and released the news. "I can't have kids."

"I...I'm sorry?"

"I can't have kids. I told you when...y'know, that night, the doctors said there was too much trauma. So when you and I started getting serious I went to get an exam and they took ultrasounds. I got a bad infection the assault and now there's too much scarring, I won't be able to get pregnant. So then I keep thinking, well, his stupid ex-wife got pregnant, and he hated her but wanted a baby, and I can't give that to you. The one thing in the world I should be able to do for you and I can't."

"And you've been keeping this to yourself the entire time?" I nodded and he sighed in frustration. "Asydneya Rose, why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't kn...I mean, I thought I could handle it myself."

"But you don't have to, don't you realize that by now?" Wet hands pulled me to him by my arms and I rested my cheek on his damp chest hair, water from the shower head getting into my eyes but I didn't care. "We could adopt. Or have a surrogate, or simply be a fabulous aunt and uncle."