A shrill sound jolted me awake: Arthur's alarm. I checked the time from the clock on his nightstand and murder urges started to manifest. It was four. In the fucking morning.

Arthur stopped the alarm, rolled on his side, and kissed me on the forehead.

"Rise and shine, darling!" He said to me in a chipper voice before turning his lamp on.

I groaned and put a pillow on my head to block the light and go back to sleep.

"Somebody's forgetting that today is my day."

I groaned some more. And probably cursed a little – a lot.

It had been over a month since I had told him about Josh, baby AJ, and everything else. It had been an insane amount of pain to take in. It didn't help that my tragic story had come shortly after he had told me his own tragic story. The barely scabbed-over wounds had been reopened, and they had needed time and care to heal. For that reason, we hadn't been able to bring ourselves to do something as silly as dedicating a day for me to do as Arthur pleased. Until now.

"Come on!" He insisted, "We're on a schedule, wake up!"

I will murder you in your sleep.

We were far from fully recovered, there were still some moments where either of us had to walk on eggshells around the other, afraid to say something that might trigger the other's trauma. But those moments were getting rarer and rarer.

I hadn't had a chance to come around to the fact that I loved him. I even less so had had the chance to tell him about it. I didn't want to anyway. We were still too fragile for such strong emotions.

The alarm went off again, nine minutes after Arthur had pressed 'snooze'.

If he kept on with his bloody alarm, I would stop loving him real quick and the matter of when to tell him about it would solve itself.

"Abril, we're going to be late, come on!"

I ignored him and held the pillow tight over my head so he couldn't take it off. Except he was cunning and went for the duvet instead, exposing me to the cold air of that very early morning. I squeaked.

"If you care about your life, Dullac, you're going to give me back that duvet right now!" I threatened from under my pillow.

"You'd be a lot scarier if you weren't half asleep and wearing Pokémon pajamas, you know?"

I sat up in a dash and lunged at him. Thanks to a mix of his surprise and my skills at one-on-one combat, I had him pinned under me in a couple seconds, my right forearm resting across his throat, one push away from crushing his windpipe, and my left hand holding both his wrists. His lower body was immobilized by the firm pressure of my thighs on him.

"I'm still not afraid," he sassed, "although now I'm weirdly aroused."

"I wouldn't mind sex," I offered, rubbing my crotch against his not subtly. He twitched.

"Aren't you too tired?" He freed a hand from my grip and placed it on my butt cheek, pushing me down on him. He was already hard from his morning glory, but the recent turn of events made him harden even more.

"Nope, I'm fine." I rocked back and forth on his groin to show him exactly how fine and eager I was.

"Good." Seemingly without effort, he rolled us over until I was under him, and he stepped off the bed. "Since you're not tired anymore, you can get up and change," he said with a gloating smile.

My jaw dropped. "Seriously?" I whined. "You're really going to leave me hanging?"

He opened his nightstand drawer and threw something at me. It was the vibrator he had bought for me, like he had promised. From the Internet, because there was no world where Arthur Dullac could simply walk into a sex shop.

"I'll leave you to it. You have five minutes. Put on some sports clothes when you're done and meet me downstairs."

And without further ado, he picked up his clothes and left me alone in his room so I could masturbate.

* * *

I joined him downstairs after twenty minutes, freshly masturbated and wearing sweatpants, a sports bra, and an unzipped hoodie.

"I said five minutes, darling," he said.

I grumbled.

"I had to do it twice," I justified, which made him choke on the Gatorade he was drinking.

I wasn't even exaggerating. Arthur's newly found confidence in bed, as well as his desire to explore more, had had dramatic effects on libido. By dramatic, I meant it was constantly through the roof. More than usual.

"You can't wear that." He pointed at my outfit.

"You said to wear sports clothes."

I looked at his outfit. He was wearing spandex shorts with a spandex T-shirt. The way his quads were showing just below the hem of his shorts got me to appreciate the early morning just a teensy bit.

"Yes, I understand I should have been more specific. Sweatpants are too bulky. You need to wear something skintight, like leggings or shorts."

"If you want to gawk at my ass clad in spandex, you can just ask, cari. No need to wake me up so early."

"I don't need to resort to stratagems to see your beautiful backside, darling. Now quit stalling and go get changed, we're really going to be late."

I went to dig into the drawer of spare clothes he kept for me. I kept almost no belongings at his place, he had everything there, and a lot of it was better quality than my own stuff. I put on a gray pair of leggings that matched the sports bra I had on, and I put on a lightweight sports jacket that hopefully wouldn't be too bulky for what he had in mind. From downstairs, he told me to pack the sweatpants and the hoodie and bring them as well.

He threw me a bottle of Gatorade that he instructed me to drink up as I followed him to his car.

"If you're making me go on a morning run, it's really counterproductive to take the car."

He had a vicious smile. "We're not going on a run."

And God knew we were not going on a run. Far from it. I realized the extent of the torture Arthur was about to inflict on me when he pulled over in the parking lot near the Marina del Rey. I briefly hoped he was about to take me on a yacht tour – he and his dad worked for a luxury boat company after all – but that little spark of hope got nipped in the bud when I saw the façade of the boathouse which read 'Los Angeles Rowing Club'.

"Cari, I can't row."

"Sure you can. I'll teach you."

"If I don't drown, I'll kill you," I threatened, although it was not so much a threat than a serious statement. "I hope you know that."

He smirked. "I told you you wouldn't like my day."

When we reached the boathouse, an athletic man in his forties warmly hugged Arthur as if they were long-lost friends. He was wearing one of those funny rowing unitards and a visor with sports sunglasses perched on it, even though the sun had yet to rise.

"Abril, this is Mark, the president of LARC and my coach when I was rowing for the city. Mark, this is Abril, my girlfriend."

We shook each other's hand.

"Is that you I have to thank for bringing my boy here back on the water?" He asked.

Right. Arthur loved rowing but had been forced to quit when his wife started to believe it made him too tired to conceive a baby.

"Absolutely not," I replied. "I'm here against my will."

Mark laughed. "He was my best rower, I never managed to find a stroke as steady and regular as him. I couldn't believe it when he told us he had to quit. He wouldn't tell me why."

What a stroke was, I had no idea.

"Mark," Arthur said, exasperated. "I already told you, this is private business."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just glad you're back. When you guys are done, stop by my office and I'll give you a membership form for next season."

"I'm not signing up again."

"Why not? Get your lovely girlfriend a form too and join together! We have a boat for beginners, or she could cox your boat. Wouldn't be the first time a cox and a stroke got together, if you know what I mean . . ."

Again, I had no idea what a cox was. I did know, however, that I wouldn't want to be one.

"He can do whatever he wants," I stepped in, "but rest assured that I will not enroll."

"Wait until you've been on the water before you make a decision. It only takes one time to get infected by the rowing virus."

"Don't hold your breath, I love my sleep too much. You can't imagine what Arthur had to do to drag me out of bed."

The image of a vibrator snuck its way into my mind. Judging by the color of Arthur's face, it snuck its way into his mind too. Thankfully, Mark was oblivious of our private joke.

"I'll wait for your return here so I can be the first one to witness your change of mind," he said with finality, as if there was no way I would not fall in love with rowing.

Arthur led the way towards the changing rooms. He typed in the code to the men's room and he let me in before coming after me.

"You're sneaking me in the men's changing room, cari? How wild of you."

"We're only here for one minute, we'll be fine."

"What's a stroke?"

"A stroke is the rower at the front of the boat that sets the pace for everybody else to follow. Although he's technically at the back of the boat, since you row facing the opposite direction you're moving."

"I see. I'm not surprised you were good at it."

"Thanks? Was that a compliment?"

"Yes. And what's a cox?"

"It's the person at the front – back – of the boat, facing the rowers. They don't row, they steer the boat and give directions to the crew. And it's not uncommon for a men's boat to have a female cox, and vice versa. If you ever considered signing up, I'm sure you'd love to have an entire crew of men to boss around."

"As enticing as it sounds, no amount of bossing men around could be worth the early morning trainings."

He chuckled.

"Why don't you want to sign up again? You like early mornings."

"I'm too old, too busy, and out of shape. It's been so long since I've stopped, I must have become very bad at it. No team would want me."

I put my hands on his biceps to feel what I very well knew was under that spandex: lean, powerful muscles. "Mark seemed to be willing to take you back. I'm sure you'd be fine, you erg almost every day."

"It's not a small decision, you know. It's a massive commitment, at least three outings per week, plus the erg sessions, plus the gym sessions. It takes up so much time. We're together now, I want to spend my free time with you, not with a rowing crew."

Aw!

"It's up to you, cari, but I think you'd love being back in the team. I'd be asleep most of the times you'd be rowing so it's not like you'd miss quality time with me. As for the gym and the erg, you can do that at your place."

"I like your enthusiasm, Abril. I might think about it, but I'll think about it later. Stop stalling, we need to go." He handed me a visor and an ugly pair of orange sunglasses. "Here, those are for you," he said while putting similar items up on his own head.

"Honey, it's still dark outside." My tone was slightly condescending, I must admit.

"Honey, the sun will rise soon and you will be thankful for those. Trust me. We're going to miss the sunrise if we don't hurry, stop fighting me and let's go."

I caved and accepted the visor and awful sunglasses. I took my water bottle and got out of the room first.

"Darling?" He called after me once he'd closed the door. I turned around and urged him to go on. "Your rear does look great in those pants."

I did a little wiggle for his eyes only. "Just call it an ass, babe."

"Never. I thought we were not allowed to call each other 'babe'?"

"You're about to make me row before the sun has even risen. I'll call you whatever I want."

"So 'babe' is what you call me when you're angry. Noted."

We laughed and went downstairs to meet Mark where all the boats were stored. He and Arthur took out a two-seater while I grabbed the oars. We set everything on the river, put our water bottles in the compartments below the seats and then it was time to get on the damn boat.

Arthur climbed in first, steadying the thing for me, and Mark held my hand while I struggled to take my seat in front of Arthur.

"All right, you guys are all set. Do you need me to follow you?" The coach asked.

"No, we'll be fine. We're just going to go up and down the creek," Arthur replied.

And on that note, he pushed us off the bank and started rowing. He instructed me to keep my blades flat on the water and to engage my core while he maneuvered us out of the marina into a long straight arm of water going inland: the Ballona Creek.

He stopped once we reached the start of the creek.

"Okay, remember what I taught you on the erg? That's exactly the same thing, except you're holding two oars instead of one handle. We won't bother with feathering today."

"Arthur, this is another language to me. What's feathering?"

He explained that feathering meant rotating the oar so the blade was parallel to the water, as opposed to squaring, which meant having the blade perpendicular to the water. He explained, then showed, the right positioning of arms and hands, and we started rowing, me setting the rhythm and him patiently matching me.

It was an utter disaster. The boat was wobbly, my blades kept getting caught in the water, almost ejecting me off the boat on several occasions, and Arthur was laughing his ass off behind me.

"Engage your core and sit up, that'll steady the boat," he would say, or "if your blades keep getting stuck in the water, it's because you're putting them in too early, take your time on the recovery."

We almost capsized five times, but somehow we always managed to save it. When the sun started to peek through in the horizon, he parked the boat along the bank, told me to wear my sunglasses, and we took in the view in front us. Even I had to admit that this part was enjoyable. It was too early for the LA traffic noise to ruin the tranquility of the scene. A few boats eight-seating boats rowed past us, sounding like battleships going to war. I let myself enjoy just sitting there, rocking slightly in the wobbly boat and appreciating the rare sight of a sunrise. I wouldn't say it was worth getting up so early, but almost.

When the sun had completely risen, Arthur turned us around and we rowed back. It was a disaster again, and all the wholesome feelings I'd just felt while watching the sunrise vanished immediately. Rowing was hell.

After a long, laborious journey back, we finally made it to the marina. Arthur parked the boat against the bay and jumped out first before holding out his hand for me. I leaned over to detach the oar that was on the water side so I didn't have to struggle with it once on the bank.

"No, no, no, leave the oar—"

Too late. As soon as I picked up the oar, the boat, now deprived of its stabilizer, tilted towards the water and dunked me into it. I had time to let out a strident scream before I went down.

When I emerged, I was cold, wet, and humiliated. Meanwhile, Arthur was laughing, and so was Mark who had just joined us on the bank.

The motherfucker that I wouldn't call a boyfriend for long eventually gave me his hand and helped me out of the cold water, not without laughing harder. I glared at him. It had no consequence. Arthur picked up our bottles from the compartments and removed the oars from their fixtures while he stayed safely on the hard ground.

"You," I pointed at Mark. "You lied to me, rowing is appalling."

"Hey now," Arthur chimed in, "you had one bad experience, no need to insult the whole sport."

"You just had a poor instructor. I would never let you fall into the water, darling." Mark winked at me, flirting with me with no subtlety. "Don't let this hopeless boy," he pointed his chin at Arthur, "discourage you from ever rowing again."

"Aw, and to think that, a little while ago, I was your prodigal star rower. You changed your mind already?"

"I would sell you to the devil myself if that could get me your lady. Surely you know that."

"If I don't get her into dry clothes soon, she won't be my lady for long," he said while wrapping his arms around my shoulders to transfer some of his warmth to me. "Come on, babe. Let's get you changed. Mark, you're okay to take the boat in?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll get one of the boys to help me."

"What boys?" I asked as Arthur led us upstairs towards the changing rooms.

Just as I was saying that, what looked like a team of eighteen-year-old rowers emerged out of the changing room where we had left our belongings. We waited for them to be all out before entering. The room, which was empty when we'd first got in, was now scattered with a mess that only teenage boys could make.

Arthur took a towel out of his bag and draped it on my shoulders. It looked like he had expected me to take a dip.

"So, this first outing wasn't too bad, was it?" He said tentatively.

My eyes snapped up at him. "I fell in the water. Of course it was bad!"

"Up until that point, it was okay, though."

I couldn't determine if he was serious, annoyingly positive, or outright sarcastic. "No, it was not. The boat was unstable all along, I kept getting almost ejected by my own oars, and you were making fun of me. It was awful."

"For a first time, in a two-seater, I can guarantee you it really wasn't that bad. Most people fall several times when they first row in doubles. Those boats are extremely hard to steady."

"Then why did you make me row in that one?"

"Would you have preferred if we had been in a boat with eight rowers?"

I groaned. No, I wouldn't have. Being ridiculous in front of him and Mark was humiliating enough. But still, I was drenched, and my ego bruised.

"Let's get you out of those clothes," he decided. "Arms up."

I lifted my arms so he could peel off my sports bra. He took one end of the towel and he patted it on my skin to make sure I was fully dry, before slipping a spare T-shirt of his on me.

"If one of those teenage boys comes back, he's going to have the show of his life."

"I'll shield you."

"How romantic."

He smirked and helped me get rid of the leggings which were so wet they stuck to my legs like a second skin. My underwear came next. Then Arthur dug into my bag and took out the sweatpants I'd brought and helped me into them.

"When I go commando, it's usually after something much more fun," I commented.

"I don't know, your falling in the water was quite funny to me." I slapped his shoulder. "Come on, let's go get you some food."

We said goodbye to Mark who, as promised, slipped us some sign-up sheets for the next rowing season. As soon as I entered Arthur's car, I balled up mine and tossed it into the door pocket. That made Arthur grin.

"It's no mystery that I will never take up rowing, but you should definitely sign up."

"Why does it matter to you so much?"

"You are happy when you row, and I want you to be happy. And I think it'd be good for you to resume something that you enjoyed before Eleanor. It might be healing."

"You heal me."

"Please. I've probably broken you more than I've healed you."

"I wouldn't be so sure . . ."

"Anyway," I didn't give him a chance to develop, "you should sign up. At least think about it."

"I'll think about it," he said. That felt like a promise.

After a short drive, we arrived at his favorite post-rowing breakfast place. I ordered pancakes, orange juice, and hot chocolate, he ordered eggs benedict and coffee. We ate and drank, and I was amazed at how famished I was. I had to get a serving of chocolate waffles as well. That made him laugh.

"Rowing does build you an appetite, doesn't it?"

"It's like my stomach has just grown double its size," I agreed.

When the bill came, I dug into my bag for my card.

"Don't even think about it," he commanded while he slipped his own card in the leather binder.

I looked at him with a puzzled face. I knew he was ridiculously old-fashioned for those kinds of things, but he had gotten better at letting me pay half the time, and it was my turn.

"It's my day," he explained. "Don't expect to pay for anything on my day."

I shut up and let him pay without kicking up a fuss.

Once back at his place, he took my hand and led me to his bedroom. Just when I thought we'd have sex, he entered his bathroom and started to run a bath.

"Get undressed," he said. "This bath is for you."

The idea of dunking my stiffening body into a tub full of hot water was nothing short of a dream come true. I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the bathtub as the water was still running. Arthur removed his clothes too and stepped towards his walk-in shower.

"You're not taking a bath with me?" I inquired, disappointed.

"Oh no, I hate baths."

"Then let me shower with you." I sat up and made to stand up but one look from him told me to lie back down.

"Running you a bath is something I wanted to do. I like to take care of you, you don't let me do that often."

"So, on the day we can do anything you want, you choose to . . . pamper me?"

"Among other things," he said with a cryptic smile. "I told you you were going to hate that day, and not just because of the rowing. This hot bath is a small offering that you won't hate me by tonight."

"You really think a bath is enough to counterbalance your evil plans?"

He held up one finger to tell me to wait one second. He stopped the water, poured a clear liquid all over the surface, and then turned a knob. That's when the jets started, hitting me right on my sore back muscles, and the ripples of the water made the soap he had just poured bubble up. I was floating on a cloud.

"Point taken," I conceded.

"Told ya." He winked at me, bent over to kiss my lips, and went to take a shower while I just enjoyed my luxury bath.

When he stepped out, my eyes automatically zeroed on his penis. He caught me and blushed.

"Are you enjoying the view, darling?" He asked.

"Very much so. In fact, if you just stand there and look at me, I can touch myself and come just from this sight."

He laughed and wrapped a towel around his hips, dismissing my comment. Except my comment was not meant to be dismissed. I was serious.

"Cari, have you left a slot open for sex in that crazy schedule of yours?"

I knew the answer before he said it. "I'm afraid I haven't," he replied sheepishly. "I didn't think of it."

Right. Sex was not as big a part of his life is it was of mine.

"In that case, would you mind if I . . . touched myself again? Right now? That naked body of yours is doing all kinds of things to me."

He walked towards the tub and crouched right behind me, his head bending forwards over mine so we were face to face.

"I don't mind." A pause. "In fact, would it be okay if I watched?"

It took all the self-control in me not to snap my head upright and check whether he was on some sort of mind-altering substance. I grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled his face to me for an awkward, yet heated, kiss.

"Watch as much as you want, cari."

I slid one hand down right between my legs while I palmed my tit and tweaked my nipple with the other. I imagined Arthur would be a passive spectator, but he was nothing but. He started with a scalp massage, then he rubbed my shoulders, at the same time his lips and teeth were doing wonders on my neck and ears. As I got closer to orgasm, he grabbed both my boobs and pulled on my piercings. I came to him saying "I love you" repeatedly in my ear.

My chest heaving up and down, I tilted my head back and looked at him. He had the most satisfied grin on his face.

"Happy?" He asked.

"Very."

"Good." He kissed the tip of my nose. "Now sit up so I can wash you, the water is turning cold."

"Wait, don't you—I don't know, don't you want to have sex, or something? What just happened can't possibly have left you indifferent."

"I'm far from indifferent. In fact, I'm painfully not indifferent. But I don't want to have sex right now."

"Why would you watch me masturbate, then? That must have been torture."

"Abril, it's no secret that my sexuality is not as rich as yours. I'm content with very little, but I would hate myself if I were to stand in the way of your sexual fulfillment. You are welcome to touch yourself whenever you want when I'm around, and I won't expect anything in return. I'd much rather you do that and enjoy yourself than become sexually frustrated and resent me for it."

I had stopped doubting it a while ago. But in case there was any doubt left, this was the kind of statement that solidified my love for this man.

I sat up and let him lather soap all over me and rinse it off. He helped me out of the tub and I got dressed with a pair of black shorts, a yellow blouse, and trainers.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yes. Where are we going?"

"We're going for lunch."

"Lunch? It's not even ten a.m."

"We have to drive for a while."

He drove us to Rodeo Drive, which definitely had not taken us 'a while' to get to. Not by LA standards, at least. When I questioned him, he said it was just a pit-stop. He took my hand and we strolled along the street that harbored the most high-end stores of Beverly Hills.

We stopped in front of Van Cleef & Arpels, a luxury jewelry store.

"On the lookout for new obnoxiously expensive cufflinks?" I teased.

"Something like that," he replied, evasive.

We entered the store and a saleswoman dressed in an impeccable black uniform pounced on us as soon as we stepped in.

"Good morning, my name is Annette. How may I help you today?"

Arthur told her his name and said he had an appointment. She looked at her computer and confirmed it.

"Arthur and April, right?"

"It's Abril, actually," Arthur corrected her for me.

"My apologies, Mrs. Dullac. It will not happen again."

"My name is not Dullac either," I amended. The poor woman had said all but three sentences to us and was making mistakes left and right.

She looked at her screen. "Oh, of course. Not yet." She shot me a bright smile and she asked us to follow her to a specific section of the store.

The section in question was not the cufflinks section, or any other male jewelry section. In fact, there was no male jewelry in the entire store.

"I saw on the system that you're looking to buy an engagement ring?"

I stopped walking instantaneously, which had the comical effect of Arthur bumping into me from behind. But nothing about this was comical. Surely Arthur had not planned on proposing. If he expected me to accept just because it was his day, he was about to take a one-way trip back down to Earth.

"Just a ring," he told the saleswoman, and I could hear the smug smile in his tone. "Can you give us a minute, please?"

Annette made herself scarce immediately. I turned around and faced Arthur.

"Stop panicking," he said.

At the same time, I said "You better not be buying me an engagement ring, Dullac! I don't care that it's your day, it's going to be a fat no."

"Relax, Abril. I'm not proposing to you. I swear."

"Are you sure? She said you wanted to buy an engagement ring." I pointed in the direction Annette had taken to give us some privacy.

"Give me some credit, darling. If I wanted to propose, I'd do it in a much nicer way. I booked an appointment to buy a ring. I never said it was an engagement ring."

I relaxed significantly. "Why do you want to buy me a ring?"

"It's your favorite piece of jewelry, isn't it? But I'm happy to go for a necklace, or a bracelet, or anything else if you prefer."

I huffed. I did prefer rings, he knew me too well.

"What about nipple jewelry?" I suggested as a joke. "I could use some new ones." I was still wearing the titanium barbells that Sasha had put on my body when she'd pierced me all those years ago.

"Deal."

I choked on my own saliva. "Pardon?"

"I said it's a deal. Once we're done here, we'll find the most luxurious piercing parlor and I'll buy you the most extravagant nipple rings you can think of. Will you need a new one for your tongue as well?"

I nodded. If he was going along with the joke, I might as well have fun with it.

"Good. Now, let's go back to ring shopping, shall we?"

"Why do you want to buy me jewelry so bad?"

"I just want to spend an indecent amount of money on you. You never let me do it and that's frustrating. Today you can't say no. So please, spend my money away."

I didn't need to be told twice. It was his day, after all, and I did have a soft spot for rings. After trying on multiple options, some of which were traditional engagement rings because Annette didn't want to understand that we were not getting married, I picked a gorgeous white gold ring with diamonds and pink and purple sapphires arranged in the shape of three flowers next to each other. The jewel was delicate and elegant, but original enough for me to like it. There was no price tag next to it, but that didn't seem to bother Arthur.

"Do you want to wear it now?" He asked me as the saleswoman was about to put the ring in its box.

I nodded frantically. Did I look like somebody who was patient enough to wait until we were back home before wearing a brand new piece of jewelry?

He grinned and plucked the ring from its box and slipped it on my right ring finger. Annette looked like she wanted to say that he had put it on the wrong hand but one menacing look from me and she chewed it back what. Arthur paid without blinking an eye. The price was never said out loud, so I didn't get to know, but given the type of store we were in, it had to be at the very least ten thousand dollars.

Once out of the store, my ridiculously expensive yet beautiful ring set on my finger, he made a Google search for 'luxury piercings LA' and drove to the place that his phone recommended.

We were welcomed by a man whose style was considered normal in the body modification industry, but would sure stand out anywhere else. He had stretched ears, visible tattoos on his arms and throat, and a few face piercings. I told him I came to pick new jewelry for my nipples and my tongue, so he took out the options he had for both placements.

I asked Arthur to pick and to "go wild." He delivered. For my nipples, he picked a bar made of solid platinum with diamonds on the extremities and impractical dangly chains. They looked hot, that's for sure, although impractical. For my tongue, the choices were more limited. There were very few ways to make a tongue piercing 'luxurious'. Arthur chose something made of platinum again, with a flat back and a spiky ball on its exposed extremity. I winked at him but he didn't seem to get it.

The piercer asked if I wanted him to install the jewelry himself. I told him to go ahead for the tongue one, but Arthur spoke up and said he would take care of changing my nipple jewelry. The piercer shot him a knowing grin and invited him to follow him to the counter for payment. This time, I saw the price, and it was way too high for what it was. When I died, whoever buried me had better remove that jewelry from my body and sell it.

"So I've got those fancy new nipple rings and I don't even get to wear them immediately," I said as we were driving away from the most urbanized part of LA.

"Patience. I'll put them on as soon as we're back home."

"I want them now," I whined, pouted, and crossed my arms across my chest like an overgrown child.

I didn't really care that much, it was just fun to see where it could go.

"What do you want me to do? Pull over and tend to them on the side of the road?"

"Yes!"

It's not like he would actually do it.

And yet, he totally, definitely would. He took the closest exit and, as soon as he found a quiet road, he pulled over. I could not believe my eyes.

He leaned across the center console, opened the glove compartment and retrieved a couple of antiseptic wipes from the first-aid kit he kept there. Then he slid his seat as far back as he could and looked pointedly at his lap.

"Hop on," he said.

"Are you serious?"

"With you? Always."

He patted his thigh to urge me to climb on him already. I unfastened my seatbelt and swung my leg across his so I could straddle him.

"Top off," he ordered.

"I'm not sure you realize how hot it is when you boss me around like that."

He arched an eyebrow. "I thought you hated being bossed around?"

"There's a time and place for everything, cari."

His rare dimples showed as he failed to suppress a smile. I lifted my top until my boobs were exposed to him. With the gentleness of a surgeon, he rubbed the antiseptic wipes over my nipples, removed the old jewelry, cleaned the new jewelry with fresh wipes, and pushed it into my nipples. Even years after having them pierced, they stung from having a new bar pushed into them. It made me squirm.

"Did I hurt you?" Arthur enquired.

"Not exactly."

"What's going on?"

"Sometimes, you're so clueless it's cute. It's turning me on, Arthur."

"Oh."

He took his time for the second piercing. The cold of the antiseptic wipe, the sharp pain of metal being pushed through, the gentle touch of his fingers. All that contributed to teasing the hell out of me. This man could get me going with next no nothing, now. Long gone were our bedroom struggles.

"All done," he said, but didn't remove his hands from my breasts. His thumbs flicked my nipples up, then down.

When he pinched the brand-new chains dangling from my nips and pulled on them, I was done for. A dirty moan escaped my lips.

"You like those, don't you?" I asked.

"I do. They look gorgeous on you." He tugged slightly harder, making me arch into him. "Especially when they make you do that."

"Let me show you what the other jewelry can do."

I bent over and placed my lips right behind his ear. I exhaled heavily in his ear a few times. His breath caught, I stuck out my tongue, and I licked him right where it mattered, making sure my spiky jewelry grazed his skin with more pressure than usual. He shuddered under me. I licked some more, dragging the pointy metal on purpose.

"Did you have another part of your body in mind when you bought this specific design," I murmured while drawing circles with the ball.

"I—I don't know what you mean."

I had him stuttering. Good. "I mean, how do you think that," I dug the metal a bit deeper in his skin, "would feel on your cock?"

Arthur yelped. I'm not even kidding, he yelped. There had seldom been a more arousing sound.

He eventually let go of my nipples and pulled my top down, then he pushed me away until I was at arm's length.

"We need to stop now because you're turning me on and I cannot have sex in my car," he explained.

"Okay."

I climbed off him and sat back down in my seat. "Thank you for changing my jewelry."

"Please. That was my pleasure." He smirked and drove off.

A bit over an hour later, we pulled over in the driveway of a cute suburban house, with white-picket fence, a golden retriever running around in the front yard, and all the other stereotypes. The neighborhood was quiet and wealthy.

"I thought we were going for lunch," I asked.

"We are."

We walked to the front door where Arthur rang the bell. A beautiful woman who couldn't be older than forty opened the door and smiled from ear to ear when she saw us. She had bright ginger hair, brown eyes, and thousands of freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. She looked exhausted, but that didn't alter her beauty whatsoever.

"Arthur!" She greeted him with genuine happiness. "I'm so glad to see you!"

She gave him a hug that he had no problem giving back. When they pulled apart, Arthur introduced us.

"Emilia, this is my girlfriend Abril. Abril, this is Emilia. She's my aunt, but we've been raised more as cousins."

"Speak for yourself! What I've been raised as is your free babysitter," she interjected with a laugh. Then she picked up on my confused look and explained further. "I'm Magdalen's sister." Magdalen was Arthur's mother. That explained why Emilia also had beautiful, natural orange hair. Unlike mine, which I had dyed a bright tangerine color recently. Arthur had had a field day when he'd seen it. He'd spent the whole day teasing me about it, saying I'd only picked this color so we could match. "I was a kid when she had Arthur, so we were always taken care of by the same nanny. Until I became old enough to become the nanny. Also, hi Abril, nice to meet you. You can call me Mils." She shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mils. You can call me Abby."

She led us inside the house and let us know that lunch would be ready soon. We sat on the couch in the living room. She had a jug of handmade lemonade ready and poured us each a glass.

"I'm sorry Peggy couldn't make it, she's stuck at work all day.

"Who's Peggy?"

"She's my wife. She's a surgeon at the local hospital and they seem to always be needing her. It's not like we have a young child to take care of or anything," she added with a lot of bitterness.

Just as she was saying that, we heard the unmistakable cries of a baby coming through the baby monitor. She excused herself and went upstairs to care for her child.

"The poor woman," I whispered to Arthur. "She looks worn out."

"She is. Peggy has been working double shifts almost every day since one of her colleagues unexpectedly changed hospitals. Now Emilia has to take care of Jamie almost all on her own."

"That sounds rough. Can't Peggy put her foot down and take fewer shifts?"

"I think she technically could, but then that means potential patients would have to delay urgent surgeries or be transferred to hospitals that are far away from their families. I think her professional conscience doesn't allow her to step down."

Once upon a time, I would have cared just as much about my job. Man, if I had ever had the opportunity to work for NASA, I would have spent my life in a lab. But what did I care about Eleanor's store?

"Why are we inflicting our presence on this poor woman while she's obviously overwhelmed? She had to make lunch for us!"

"Ah, darling, you couldn't be more wrong. She insisted on making lunch for us. And we're not inflicting our presence, we're helping her. I volunteered to take care of Jamie for a few hours so she could have some alone time."

"You better be joking."

"I am not."

"Cari, I don't do kids. And I'm a disaster with them."

"It's too bad. We're babysitting Jamie anyway."

My response was cut short by heavy footsteps going down the stairs. It seemed like the whole house was vibrating. The origin of this miniature earthquake entered the living room a few seconds later in the form of a shirtless teenage boy with brown skin and a contagious smile.

"Mils, have you seen my—Hey! Uncle Arthur, how you doing?"

The teenage boy walked towards Arthur and hugged him.

"Is that your girlfriend?" He pointed at me with his finger. "She's hot!" He then turned to me and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Spencer."

I snorted. If he turned out half as bad as the other Spencer I knew, Mils and Peggy were in for a painful ride when he went to college.

"Is my name funny?" He called me out.

"Not at all. I have a friend who's called Spencer too. He's a frat president at UCLA and I hope you'll never turn out like him."

Not that Spencer's lifestyle was wrong. He was free to do whatever – whoever – he wanted. But if I were a mother, I would want my son to make a more productive use of his college years.

Young Spencer snorted in return. "Please. I've got a bit more class than that. I'm going to Caltech in August."

"That's my boy!" I exclaimed. "I'm Abby, by the way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Abby. Are you a Caltech alumna?"

"Sort of," I replied and it didn't hurt as much as it usually did. "I never graduated."

When I noticed he was going to ask follow-up questions, like people always do, I beat him to the punch and asked for clarification about how Arthur could be his uncle. It didn't hurt as much, but I wasn't ready to just openly talk about it.

Arthur explained that Spencer is Peggy's kid from a former marriage with a man. Jamie is both Mils's and Peggy's through the miracle of IVF. Arthur and Spencer are technically cousins, step-cousins even, but their age difference gave them more of an uncle-nephew relationship.

"Your family tree is giving me a headache," I said to no-one in particular. Both men laughed.

Mils eventually came back downstairs with a red-eyed Jamie lodged on her hip. She told Spencer to wear a shirt before coming for lunch.

The lunch was a shitshow, although it was delicious. Jamie kept playing with her food, spitting it back up, randomly pulling her mom's hair, knocking over her sippy cup. Mils could barely make it through two mouthfuls of her own meal before her attention was grabbed away by the little monster. I mentally double-checked whether I'd been good at taking my pill lately. Yes, I had.

After the meal, I volunteered to do the dishes and Mils was too exhausted to refuse in the name of being a good hostess. Spencer helped me while Arthur took Jamie on his lap and Mils went to take a shower.

As if on cue, the baby made an awfully gurgle-y sound and a rancid smell spread over the room in record time. Poop. The baby had pooped.

I'm going to be sick.

"I'm telling you right now, Arthur, I am not changing a dirty diaper."

"The thought of asking you to do it didn't even cross my mind, darling. I happen to care about this baby. I'll take care of it."

And he took Jamie away. Unfortunately, the smell stayed. I had to open the window while Spencer and I kept doing the dishes.

They reappeared not long later, Mils in their wake. Spencer and I had moved to the living room and were watching TV. Then Mils asked Arthur for his help with the filter of her swimming pool.

"Of course, let's have a look at it. Abril," he turned to me and handed me the little gremlin, "can you please hold Jamie while I go see what the issue is. I won't be long, I promise."

"No, no, no," I refused. And not just because I disliked kids, but because I was terrified. This was somebody's life he was putting between my hands. What if I dropped her? "Arthur you can't do this, I don't know how to take care of her, I don't even know how to hold her. What if she cries? What if she poops again? Please don't leave her alone with me."

"Abril, you'll be fine. She's changed and fed, and we'll be ten minutes max. Just sit down and hold her, you can't go wrong. If she cries, try rocking her slowly and give her her pacifier. Spencer is right here if you have an issue."

He didn't leave me a choice and quite literally dropped her in my arms.

"I'll be back very soon, I promise." And he left the room, followed by Mils who seemed unbothered to leave her daughter in the arms of a reluctant stranger.

As soon as her mom and Arthur were out of her sight, Jamie started crying. Or wailing, to be more accurate. I picked up the pacifier that was clipped to her overalls and put it in her mouth. She spit it back at my face and cried louder.

Spencer laughed at me.

"Hey! You're her brother, why don't you help?"

"I am helping. I'm supervising. My presence here is the only reason Mils let you hold her."

"Then be a good supervisor and take her, will you?"

"Nah, that's too funny to watch."

"Come on! Help me out, I'll give you ten bucks."

"If you're trying to bribe me, you'll have to do better than that."

"Fine. You're a teenage boy, what about I show you my boobs?"

His eyes lighten up. Boys were all. The. Same.

"That could work," he smirked.

"I was kidding!"

"I wasn't."

Jamie was still screaming in my arms. I started to get afraid she might collapse a lung or something. She was so red and stiff, that couldn't be comfortable. I took Arthur's advice and started rocking her up and down. It seemed to soothe her. As soon as I stopped or slowed down, though, she would just scream louder. So I kept rocking, without interruption, and I rocked her faster and faster, as it seemed to work.

"Careful, I wouldn't go so fast if I were—"

Something wet landed on my shoulder. I stopped rocking and I looked down. Huge mistake. All my senses were attacked at once. The baby resumed screaming like it was being slaughtered, the sight of the puddle of vomit on my blouse made my stomach do somersaults, the smell of it made me gag, and the wet texture of it made me want to crawl out of my skin. If somebody didn't help me right now, I would puke on this baby just like it had puked on me.

"Spencer, grab your sister, I'm going to be sick."

He heard the urgency in my voice and took her from me right away while he told me where the closest toilet was. I ran for it and just made it to the toilet bowl before emptying the contents of my stomach in it.

As I flushed, I heard the teenager laugh behind me. He talked to his sister in a stupid baby voice.

"Looks like your auntie Abby has a sensitive stomach."

"Shut up!"

"And a foul mouth too!"

A whiff of the vomit on my shoulder hit my nose and made me gag again. I didn't puke, this time.

"Come on," Spencer said to me in his normal voice. "Let's find you another shirt before you start heaving again."

Jamie perched on his right hip, he led the way up the stairs until we got to his room. He let me in and told me to pick any shirt from it.

"I'll put your shirt in the wash when you're done changing. If you need anything, I'll be in Jamie's room, just across the hall."

I thanked him and he left. As soon as he was gone, I locked the door behind him and got rid of the vomit shirt. The smell was suffocating. I searched his room for a clean shirt and the task turned out to be harder than I thought. Like most teenagers, most of his shirts were dirty and scattered on the floor and various pieces of furniture.

When I finally found a clean black T-shirt at the bottom of his dresser, I heard a piercing scream coming from Jamie's room. The sound of somebody in pain.

Instincts took over and I ran towards the scream, the shirt in my hand. I fumbled with the lock and covered my boobs with the shirt before barging into Jamie's room, ready to take action like the responsible adult I was supposed to be.

"What's going on? Everything's okay?"

"Yeah, the little monster just bit me—Oh my God, you're naked!"

I adjusted the shirt around me to cover as much skin as possible.

"I was changing when you screamed like a pig getting his throat slit. I thought there was a real danger!"

He automatically looked south.

"Hey!" I snapped. "My eyes are up here."

"Sorry . . . Is that . . . chains dangling from your boobs?"

I couldn't help but blush at the thought of Arthur putting those chains on just a couple hours earlier. Then I remembered these kinds of thoughts were extremely inappropriate to have in a baby's room, with a teenage boy for company.

"It's none of your business. Stop watching."

"You can't blame me," he said in a mock innocent voice, "you're the one who offered to show me your boobs."

"What the hell is going on here?"

Spencer, Jamie, and I all turned our heads as one towards the voice. It was Arthur who'd yelled, interrupting our banter. He seemed furious.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: If there's one thing you should have figured out about me, it's that I love drama almost as much as I love cute worry-free fluff. You really thought I wasn't going to put one last fight in that book?

One more chapter to go and then it's the epilogue. Next chapter on Monday, please vote and comment.

Love,
Charlie.