Page 165 of Possessive Sinner
I should probably be outraged. He's basically telling me I'm going to be his prisoner. But are you still a prisoner if you have no desire to leave the man who holds the keys?
His hand cups my face a little closer. "I've missed you, Audra. Like hell. I'm not going to spend another night without you. Ever."
"Okay," I nod.
I know that he's not going to force me to do anything I don't want. He's not going to lie to me, and he's not going to plan my life without my input. Most of all, he'll accept me the way I am. Do I see the red flags? Hell, there's plenty of them. Do I care? Not in the least. This is my life, and if this is a mistake, I'm doing it with my eyes and heart wide open.
"Okay?" He makes sure.
I nod into his hand. "Yeah."
He guides me to the car. Louie, his driver, comes around to take the luggage from him. "Mrs. Hale." He greets me.
And for a split second, I allow myself to imagine him calling me Mrs. D'Amato. Mentally try the name on for… practice? Or just to hear even in my own head what it would sound like? Already feeling like, inevitably, we're headed that way.
"Louie," I reply with a smile.
Then we're driving, leaving the neighborhood I've lived in for the last four years, and I don't feel an ounce of regret.
"I need to confess something," Gabe says after Louie pulls the car into the main road.
My stomach knots, and I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. "You didn't get a vasectomy, did you?"
"What?" He stares at me, flabbergasted. I think this is the first time in his life he's experienced speechlessness.
If I weren't so embarrassed, I'd relish the moment.
"Never mind, what is it?" I try to deflect.
"Ah, no. No, no. I think whatever brought this on is a lot more interesting than I was going to say."
Way to go, Audra. I haven't told Gabe about Maggie's revelation yet. But now seems as good a time as any.
"Pete got a vasectomy six years ago. I didn't know about it. I…" I drift off for a moment. "He knew how important kids are to me… Do you want kids?"
"A dozen," he nods. "And no, I did not go get a vasectomy."
"Oh, thank God."
He looks amused. "So, Saint Pete wasn't so saintly after all?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Good."
I try to gauge what he's thinking, but he says nothing else. It's probably for the best.
"So," I prod, "what's the confession?"
His expression turns more serious. "The doctor called me."
My stomach tightens. "Which doctor?"
"The one from the hospital we took your mom to."
"Oh." My fingers curl in my lap. "What did they find this time?"
He turns his head slightly, looking at me now. "It's called a pheochromocytoma."
