The Collar

  spilled garbage. He put the pregnancy test aside and went back to picking up the trash. Something about the mundane task soothed him. By the time the floor was clean, he felt calmer, although too many thoughts and emotions still filled his head. He poured a glass of chocolate milk and went to find Dena.

  She was curled up, sleeping, on the couch. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake her, he sat down and placed her head on his lap. Ever so softly, he stroked her hair, gently pulling his fingers through the silky blond strands. She stirred, and her eyes blinked open.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as she sat up. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “’S okay. If I sleep now, I won’t be able to at bedtime.”

  He took the glass of milk from the table he’d put it on and gave it to her. She sighed a happy sigh and took a sip.

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t know if it’d make you sick.”

  “No. I’ve been craving milk.”

  “In that case, I’ll get you more when you finish that.”

  She smiled at him, a bit hesitantly, and drank some more.

  He waited until she’d finished half the glass before asking, “How late are you?”

  She wiped away the remnants of a milk mustache but missed a tiny bit at the corner of her mouth. He thumbed it away.

  “Week and a half,” she said in answer to his question.

  That long and she hadn’t said anything? He knew her periods were usually as regular as clockwork. If she was ten days late, he thought there was very little chance it was a false positive. His stomach knotted, but he did his best to push those feeling aside and focus on her. She’d set her glass down, so he took her hand.

  “I’m in a bit of shock right now,” he said. “The very last thing I expected to find in the dumped-out garbage was a pregnancy test.”

  Her eyes searched his. “Much less a positive one.”

  “Yes. So I’m going to need some time to work out this news in my head. But, Dena.” He cupped her chin. “We’re in this together. I’m here for you. For you both.”

  She nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

  “It’s just … Wow.” He still didn’t think he could form the words. “A baby.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  The night grew silent around them. He didn’t know how it would all work out, how they would make room in their very content and settled life for a child. He just knew they’d do it somehow.

  Dena couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. No matter how often she told herself she was making it up, she never felt at peace with the pregnancy. She was nearly twenty weeks along, and the feeling had only grown worse lately.

  Jeff, of course, had been wonderful, once he came around to the whole idea of fatherhood. Now he was fully engaged, scouring the Internet for baby names, making sure she got plenty of rest, and taking time off work to go with her to the doctor’s office. She had thought he’d propose since she was pregnant, but so far he hadn’t brought marriage up. He was probably waiting on her, looking and waiting for some signal she’d be receptive.

  Her second-trimester ultrasound was in a few weeks. They were both looking forward to it. They’d decided not to find out if they were having a boy or a girl, though Jeff insisted it was a girl.

  She rubbed her belly. As long as the baby was healthy, that was all she cared about. She frowned. Had long had it been since she felt movement? Should she lie down and see if she could feel something?

  A quick glance at the kitchen clock told her Jeff would be home soon. He worked only half days on Saturday and said he’d stop weekend work altogether once the baby came. She decided to make a few sandwiches so they’d be ready when he got home. Food would probably wake the baby up and get it moving around. That would make her feel better. Plus, she had something she’d wanted to discuss with Jeff, and sitting down to lunch with him would give her a chance to do it. She could lie down later in the afternoon.

  He walked into the house right as she finished the sandwiches. As always, she was his first stop. He met her with a sexy smile, hooked a finger through the metal loop in her collar, and captured her lips in a kiss.

  “You made lunch,” he said when he pulled back. “Any particular reason?”

  Normally he did all the cooking, especially since certain smells had made her queasy in her first trimester. Plus, she didn’t cook.

  “It’s just sandwiches.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Damn man. It was like he could read her mind. “Yes, Sir. There’s something I’d like to discuss.” Hopefully, the ‘Sir’ would give him an idea of what.

  They’d had sex since finding out she was pregnant, but he’d been so gentle, he treated her like she was fragile glass. On top of that, they hadn’t been in the playroom at all since the positive test turned up.

  She saw the desire flash in his eyes and knew he missed it just as much as she did.

  “Well, now, Angel, why don’t you set the table while I change and we can talk over lunch.”

  His use of her nickname made her heart race and her knees tremble. “Yes, Sir.”

  He kissed her hard and quick before walking to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He didn’t look at the closed door to the playroom, but surely he was thinking about it as he passed.

  That’s when the first sharp pain pierced her belly. She had turned to grab the plates from the countertop, and instead she had to grip it to steady herself. But it passed, and she moved to pick them up when the second hit. It hurt so badly, they slipped from her hands. The plates fell to the ground and shattered. She doubled over, not caring about the broken glass, just wanting the pain to end.

  “Dena?” Jeff called from the bedroom. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just dropped a dish,” she called back, hoping she sounded convincing. “Just fine,” she added in a whisper.

  For what seemed like forever, she stood, hunched over and breathing deeply through the pain. When it subsided, she timidly walked to the kitchen table and sat down.

  Everything’s okay, she told herself. Just twisted the wrong way. She’d just sit here for a minute; then she’d get the broom and clean the floor. And Jeff would be hungry; she needed to get the sandwiches.

  Just the thought of food made her feel queasy, but this queasy was different from before. Before it hadn’t made her heart race and her body feel clammy all over. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she jumped up and ran down the hall, hoping she would make it in time.

  “Are you okay?” Jeff asked as she pushed by him in the hall.

  She couldn’t talk, couldn’t open her mouth. Almost there. Almost there, she repeated in her head.

  Finally making it to the bathroom, she jerked the door open, slammed it behind her, and reached the toilet just in time.

  “Dena!” Jeff pounded on the door. “What’s wrong? Let me in!”

  He couldn’t see her like this. She took some toilet paper and wiped her mouth. “No. Go away.”

  The pain hit her stomach again. She groaned and rocked back and forth, hoping that would help make it subside.

  The pounding on the door continued. “I swear to God, Dena, open this door or I’ll bust it down!”

  She crawled to the door and opened it. Jeff rushed in, took one look at her, and fell to his knees.

  “What do I do? Where does it hurt?” His hands ran over her body, looking for a way to fix everything, to make everything better.

  Hot tears filled her eyes. Oh, Jeff. I’m sorry.

  There was no fixing this.

  The grief was overwhelming. Jeff felt it dragging him under, and he was unable to stop it. Every so often, he would float to the top and see Dena drowning in her own sea of sorrow, but he wasn’t strong enough to reach her. Much less rescue her.

  It was his fault, he knew, for not being excited about the baby in the first place. If he’d only embraced Dena’s pregnancy from the start inst
ead of being uncertain and worried. Maybe then he wouldn’t be mourning his firstborn child. Their daughter. His perfect little girl who had never opened her eyes in this world before passing into the next.

  The doctors hadn’t been able to find exactly what had happened. They even said there was nothing in the way of them trying to conceive again in a few months. He wasn’t sure either one of them would be ready then, if ever.

  Well-meaning friends came by the cabin to pay their respects, tell them how sorry they felt, how it was for the best, and to bring casseroles. He was caught between laughing over the number of casseroles in their freezer, crying over the outpouring of sympathy, or yelling in anger, demanding to know how it could ever be for the best.

  Dena barely spoke, choosing to answer most questions in as few words as possible. He didn’t know how to reach her, and how could he pull her from her abyss when he couldn’t find a way out of his own? Day after day, he felt her slip further and further away.

  When she suggested she move out for a while, just to get her bearings, he agreed. She’d been living with him for years. Maybe she needed to be away for a bit. He thought if they each could grieve alone and without worrying about the other, maybe they would heal faster. They could find their own peace and come together stronger.

  But looking back, he could see his agreement for what it was: the worst decision he’d ever made. Without her, the cabin echoed with loneliness and despair met him at every corner. Days after she left, he shut the door to the nursery, telling himself he’d wait until she came back so they could deal with the room together.

  She never came back. With time, they had each grown stronger, but they had also grown further apart.

  “I don’t get it,” he told Daniel three weeks after she moved out. “Whenever we’re together, it’s like we’re walking on eggshells. Almost like we’re scared of each other.”

  “I wish I knew what to say. I just don’t. Has she mentioned moving back?”

  They were at Daniel’s house, having a few beers and pretending to watch the football game.

  “Nothing,” Jeff said. “Maybe I’ll stop by and see her after work tomorrow.”

  “She still staying with Kelly?”

  Mistress K was a Domme in their group. Since she worked for the Wilmington Police Department, their paths crossed often in both the vanilla and the kink worlds.

  “Yes, but you know how Kelly can be.”

  “Bossy, demanding, and hard to get along with?”

  “Exactly,” Jeff said. “Just like someone I used to know.”

  Daniel put his beer down and leaned forward. “I can’t say I know how you guys are feeling. I don’t. But the loss you’ve experienced is a major one. It’ll take time to come to terms with it.”

  “I wish I’d never agreed to let her move out.”

  “You can’t keep her against her will.”

  “Maybe not, but I could have fought her on it instead of just agreeing.” He thought back to the day she’d suggested moving out. “Do you think it’s the house? Maybe it has too many memories?”

  “I think it’s a combination of things, but I know you have to accept the fact that you can’t fix them for her.”

  Jeff knew Daniel was right. There were some things that were out of his control. He couldn’t change what had happened; nor could he control Dena’s feelings about it. She would have to work it out for herself, the same way he did. The only thing he could do was to try to be there for her while she did so.

  He pulled up to Kelly’s house later that evening and wondered if he should have called first. Dena’s car was in the driveway, but Kelly’s wasn’t. With a heavy sigh, he parked his truck and made his way to the door.

  Dena opened it at his knock, a look of surprise on her face. Her hand automatically went to her collar. “Jeff. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  She moved aside to let him in.

  “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing,” he said, once inside.

  “You could have called for that.”

  “I wanted to see how you were doing. You talk to me on the phone but avoid actually being in the same room with me.” By his calculations, it’d been almost two weeks since he’d seen her.

  She led him into the living room, where they sat on opposite sides of the couch.

  “I’m doing about as well as can be expected.” She studied him. “How about you? How are you doing? You look tired.”

  “I’m not sleeping well,” he said. It’s lonely without you, he wanted to add, but didn’t. For some reason, the words didn’t make it from his head to his mouth.

  She sighed. “Me either.”

  They sat, for what felt like eternity, without speaking. She picked at a thread on her jeans. He stared at the ceiling. It was like they were strangers.

  “When are you coming home?” he asked.

  She jumped when he spoke, almost as if she’d forgotten he was in the room. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?” he asked. “It’s our home. It’s where you belong.”

  “It’s not the house.”

  She went back to paying attention to the thread on her jeans. It’s you, were her unspoken words. It’s you I’m not ready for.

  “I see,” he said. And he did. It was his fault, after all. When they’d first confirmed she was pregnant, he’d thought about proposing. He’d been waiting for a sign she wanted him to. Now he knew why he never found one. He stood up. “I should be going. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  She didn’t show him to the door.

  They next saw each other a week later at a group social. He went because he thought it might be good for him to be around people. He’d missed the companionship of his peers, but he was surprised to see Dena there.

  She still looked lost. She had always been thin, but she looked gaunt and her eyes were sad. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved tee. While she typically didn’t wear her corset and heels to group socials, she usually didn’t wear street clothes either. When she saw him arrive, he knew she was just as surprised to see him as he had been to see her.

  No one came up to him. Most people simply stared at him and quickly looked away.

  “How’s it going?” Daniel asked, giving Jeff a slap on the back.

  “Better now that I’m not being treated like I have the plague or something. Hell, it was a miscarriage; it’s not contagious.” He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it.

  Across the room, no one was talking to Dena, either. As he watched, Kelly came and stood by her side. A feeling of gratitude swept over him.

  He was at the buffet table, getting something more to drink, when Dena came up to him.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she said.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know it was my place to let you know my every move.”

  She shifted her weight. Her fingers drifted up to her throat and grazed his collar. “By that you really mean it’s my place to let you know my every move.”

  “That is my collar you’re wearing, isn’t it?” Any other time, he would have insisted on knowing she’d be attending a group function ahead of time. Since the miscarriage, however, everything was a mess.

  She looked past him to something over his shoulder. “Sorry, Sir. I thought it would be a good idea for me to come tonight. To see our friends in a neutral environment.”

  Yet she hadn’t expected him to be there. He didn’t want to examine that too closely, but he knew he would have to eventually. On the surface, her actions seemed to indicate she was moving on, but moving on without him. He closed his eyes in an effort to head off the pain of the realization that he’d moved on, too.

  In that moment came the knowledge that this was what their future looked like. They would occasionally run into each other, and when they talked, there would be hidden meaning in their words. Their relationship had always held a certain measure of fire. It was what made her surren
der to him in the playroom so intense—the fact that she was so unyielding outside those walls.

  Even now, with her jeans hanging loose on her too-thin frame and her glorious hair pulled back into a ponytail, her spine held its undeniable strength. He had the unwelcome thought that she was turning that strength against him. Perhaps it was only by living separately from him that she had found the sense of self-preservation to move on from the loss of their daughter.

  “We have to talk,” he said, decided. “Come by the house tomorrow evening.”