Foreign Tenderness

Chapter 28

Over two months.

It's been over two months since the horrifying incident, and I still haven't completely recovered from it. Though, I want to be done with it. I just want to forget about it and move on.

But I can't.

Every day the memory renews in my mind and tortures me, remembering the dirty ways Reggie touched and handled my body.

Some days are worse than others. Some days, all I need is for Archie to hold me, but then other days, like today, I jump in fear even by the slightest touch. And I feel bad about it because I recognize Archie's touch and know it's tender, but I still flinch. However, he understands, giving me space whenever I need it while still making sure that I feel loved.

I also feel bad for Archie because we haven't had any form of sex since before the- Since then. And judging by the sounds he makes in his longer shower sessions, he wants to. And maybe even needs to?

I want to too, I miss the way his body feels. But I'm afraid and abashed. I know he would never purposely hurt me, but I'm worried that he may not like how my body looks anymore, and that might trigger him into acting out.

Since the last time, I've grown even more pregnant. My belly has developed quite round. It's already the size of a watermelon, and I'm only 20 weeks, at the halfway mark.

How much bigger can this thing get?

Due to the size of my bump, it's been harder to work while hiding the pregnancy from everyone. But I think I've been doing a decent job, alone.

Speaking of work, I'm currently dusting the library's curtain drapes on a fairly tall ladder.

As I bend on my toes to reach for the top rod, a small foot kicks the inside surface of my stomach, causing my forehead to scrape the wall and my foot to nearly slip off.

"Hey. Hey. Hey." I hear Archie's voice screech as his heavy feet speed towards me. I grab onto the metal top, and he uses his palms to hold my back up, "Baby, what are you doing on that? You almost fell."

My eyes flutter in dizzyness. "It's okay. I'm fine. Now you should go before someone comes in." I request, but he doesn't move.

"I don't care. You clearly aren't feeling well, so come down and take a minute to breathe." He directs, acting all mighty and concerned, making me scoff in irritation.

He always thinks he's a hero, although I was doing perfectly fine without him. Alone.

"No, go away. I was doing fine before you got here." I annoyedly exhale, and he just keeps supporting my spine with his flat hand.

Taking a deep breath, he calmly articulates, "Veronica, you either get off now, or I'm carrying you off." He dictates, and I scowl as I glance back at him. But he doesn't care that I'm exasperated; his eyebrows stay strictly arched.

I groan and climb down, turning around to frown at him, "Why do you always have to show up and act like a hero? I don't need your help." I huff and look at the high ceiling, trying to express that I'm furious.

"I don't need anyone's help. Are you the one walking around, all the time, with two goddamn babies stuck inside you?!" I scream as I finally stare at him. His face looks confused. "Of course not because guys get the easy way out of everythi-"

He interrupts me with a soft voice and compassionate eyes, "Veronica, you're um- You're-"

I roar, "I'm what?!"

His eyes trek down my face to my chest, "Your shirt is-"

I conclusively look down and notice two dark marks covering my nipple area.

Milk? Am I leaking? Oh my god.

I cover them with my hands and loosen my mouth as an appalling sob hurries out, feeling my eyes merging in bitter tears.

"Ronnie, don't cry. You can change your sweater. You can wear my jacket. It's okay." He kindly steps closer to me, but I abruptly push his cotton-covered chest away from me.

"No! I hate this! I hate you! I hate everyone! I'm in over my head. I think I can do everything when I can't do shit." I weep louder, feeling all kinds of terrible emotions. "I'm just fat and round and ugly and stupid and clumsy and fucking leaking." I swing my hands to my eyelids and scrub them till they burn. "I'm just-"

He clamps onto my fingers and pulls them down from my eyes, desperately gazing at me, "Veronica, stop saying that. Stop being so hard on yourself."

I sniffle as salty tears laze on the corner of my lips.

"You're none of those other things. It's all in your head, Ronnie. If you see yourself from my eyes or anyone else's, you would see that you're nothing but beautiful." He mercifully states, but I shake my head, not believing him.

"No, I'm not. I'm fat, Archie." I press my sweater in so it outlines my bump. "Do you see this? It's huge. I'm huge." I say gloomily, and his mouth quivers almost like he's scared to speak.

He agrees with me too, doesn't he? That's why he's nervous about speaking. He knows it's true.

I wipe my tears with my sleeve, bracing myself to avow, "It's okay, Archie. I know I'm big, and I know that I've been scared to do anything after what Reggie did, so I give you permission."

He puzzles his eyebrows at me, and I further explain, "You can go have sex with someone else. I know you need to, so I permit you. Do it with someone else. Do it with one of Mr. Mantle's prostitutes. I won't get mad." I calmly look to the floor then back at him. However, his face grimaces as soon as I finish talking.

He amusingly chuckles, "Have you lost your mind? What are you talking about? What makes you think I need or want some else?" He asks while still laughing.

How is this funny? I'm dead serious.

"Stop lying! I heard you in the shower." His mouth parts. "I hear you constantly groaning, and I'm not that stupid anymore. I know what you're doing in there. So go on, have sex with someone. You're desperate. You need it," I cough a loud sigh, and he snickers more.

"Okay, slow down. Firstly, I'm not that desperate. Secondly, what makes you think I want to have sex with anyone else?" He challenges in genuine question.

I bite my lower lip in discomfort, "I don't know, but you sure as hell wouldn't want to have it with me. Who would want to have sex with someone whose belly is repulsively big and who's dripping milk from their tits? I'm basically a cow, Archie."

He bites his bottom lip to hold back a laugh as he politely groups his hands on my hips, verging me a bit closer. "You're not a cow, baby. And your belly is not repulsively big. You're just pregnant. You're growing two babies; you understand that, right? Do you get how fucking amazing that is? How fucking amazing you're body is." He praises, but I don't look at him.

Softly, his palms rise and set on my temples, lifting my head so that I stare into his hazel charisma. "And if you heard me accurately in the shower, then you would know that I was groaning your name. All I was doing was thinking about you, thinking about your current body, not your pre-pregnancy body." He leans closer, and I feel a tiny smile slithering up my cheeks.

"Do you want to know why?" He urges, and I nod, drooping my forehead against his even though anyone could walk in at any given moment.

"Because I love you. Because I love your face and your body and everything about you." He whispers over my nose, and it scarcely tickles the top. "And I only do that privately because I don't want you to get sad or feel pressured into having sex again. We'll start whenever you want to, whether that be now or la-"

I silence him with a chaste kiss, "No, Archie. I think I'm ready to try, at least. No promises that I won't stop midway through, though."

He lightly laughs as he moves his lips away from mine. "Whatever your limit is, we'll do. Now here, wear this, " he pulls his jacket off and hands it to me. "I'm gonna go get you a glass of water, but I'll be right back, okay?"

I peck his cheek once before allowing him to leave, shyly grinning as I slide the coat into my arms and rest my bum on the bottom of the latter.

He still wants me.