Ok.  So I know, I know.  Now that I have a CF blog I should no longer post here. BUT.  But I wrote this vignette a while ago and I'd like to post it today, on Valentine's.  It is, of course, out of order, but not too far off from where I left you with Maggie & Grey if anyon'es all caught up (Danielle?  Maybe?).  But whatevs.  I just wanna, so I'm gunna.  I reserve that right, right? Right.

So Happy Valentine's!

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

Velvet was happy Grey and Maggie had decided to join them at the main house for the annual Valentine’s Day breakfast.  She would have understood had they decided to keep to themselves in the guest house.  She smiled as she reached for the blackberry preserve.

It was a peculiar holiday to make into a family holiday, she supposed, but it had everything to do with Grey so it seemed fitting that he’d decided to come and had brought his beautiful bride.

Velvet spread a thin layer of preserve across her already buttered toast and sighed contentedly, thinking of her first Valentine’s Day with Jonah.  She’d been a new mother, a divorcee, and pretty newly engaged to boot.  They were still living in the townhouse with the yellow door in the old factory district, still living with Nolan. 

She’d overheard a conversation between the brothers late the night before, while Jonah was up feeding Grey; and Nolan, just getting home from work at the bar, was unwinding and keeping his brother company. It was a comfortable routine.  Velvet lay in bed and listened to their conversation in the common area.  ‘I can take care of a baby for a night, Jones, really, it isn’t a big deal.’ Nolan was insisting.  ‘This is your first Valentine’s’ he’d lectured, trying to convince Jonah to take her out for a proper date.

Grey’d wailed then, for a few moments, and the conversation waited until he’d settled in once again and was suckling on his bottle contentedly.

“He doesn’t look sleepy at all.”  Commented Nolan adoringly.

“He’s a night owl.”  Jonah agreed indulgently.

Velvet loved what softies those two men were for babies.  Maybe because their parents had had their younger brother so late in life.  They were both great with Grey.  She was always grateful for the way Nolan not only adjusted to living with a young couple who were raising a new baby, but actually seemed to enjoy it.  Uncle Nolan was very much a part of their little family. “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a bartender like his Uncle.”  He posited and she heard Jonah chuckle low.

“Thanks, Nole, really, but I think I want to do a family style Valentine’s.”  He said after a few moments of what sounded like Nolan playing some version of peek-a-boo with the baby.

“You sure?”  Nolan sounded skeptical.

“Yeah.”  Jonah’d replied, yawning.  “Breakfast in bed, maybe an indoor picnic, cuddling on the couch and just, whatever she needs.”  He said.  “Besides, you don’t want to miss the bank you’ll make tending bar on Valentine’s.”

Velvet heard Nolan grunt.  “Tell the truth I was kinda looking forward to avoiding all those sad, lonely, desperate girls.”  She heard the water in the kitchen sink and knew he was rinsing his plate and silverware from the microwaved leftovers they’d saved him from their dinner.

“Have breakfast with us, then, in the morning.” Offered Jonah, and Velvet could hear the honest enthusiasm in his voice. 

“Oh, I dunno—“

“Yeah, please? Get up and have breakfast with us as a family.  I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Jones, C’mon, spend it with your family.”  Nolan said gently.

“You’re part of my family.” Jonah insisted.  “Huh, Grey? Don’t you think Uncle Nolan should be present at the first annual Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast?” Said Jonah, cooing at the months-old baby he was feeding.

Nolan laughed.  “Don’t use the kid as leverage, you asshole.”

“Hey, delicate ears over here.” Jonah said, chuckling.  “Grey thinks you should be there.  And I agree.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nolan said very quietly: “And your fiancée?”

Velvet flushed in the way one does when eavesdropping and the talk turns to oneself.  She tried to make herself even more still than she already was and strained to hear the much-lowered voices.

“She loves you Nolan.” Jonah was saying.  “No, she does—she thinks you’re great and she loves how you are with Grey, Nole, she’d want you there.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day—“

“Yeah, and the last one she had was with that son of a bitch—“

“Hey, impressionable ears!”  Nolan interrupted, teasing.

“ --And I don’t ever want this holiday to remind her of him in the least.  I’m not doing the usual stuff with her on this day.  Not ever.”

“I dunno if you have any control over how she feels or doesn’t feel about the man, my friend.”

“Knock it off.”

“Jonah, just—“

“Just what?  How many times are you going to say it Nolan?  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just want you to be careful.” Nolan said with a heavy sigh.  “People can’t just be expected to fall out of love with no strings attached, no confused feelings—“

In the dark of the bedroom she shared with Jonah, Velvet’s mouth fell open at Nolan’s veiled accusation.  And then she washed over cold because of how frighteningly close to the mark he’d come.

 “Nolan, she likes you, why can’t you give her a chance?”

“She’s great!”  Nolan insisted defensively.  “This isn’t about that, this is about you and how I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I love her.” Jonah responded simply.  “She’s going to be my wife.”  He added as Nolan stayed quiet.  “We have a son.”

“He’s pretty great.” Nolan acknowledged, and Velvet could hear the smile in his voice.

Velvet heard the decisive pop of the bottle leaving Grey’s mouth and a contented gurgling.

“All done?” Jonah asked the boy incredulously.  “Think I should give him more?”

After a few moments she heard the refrigerator open.

“Bad luck, Brother.” Nolan said.  “You’ll have to bring him to the source, because you’re out of pumped stuff.”

“Dammit.”  Jonah said in a sing-song sort of voice, clearly entertaining the baby.  “Check the freezer?” She heard a raspberry sound that made the baby chuckle and burble appreciatively.

The Fridge door closed as the freezer door pulled open.

“Yeah.  It’ll take a while to thaw though, even doing the warm water.”  She heard Nolan yawn as he pulled a heavy glass mixing bowl across the surface of the counter and turn on the faucet again.

“Go ahead to bed Nole, I got it.”

“It’s not a problem—“ Another yawn.

Jonah groaned a little as she heard him getting up off the couch with the baby. “Goodnight.” He said, more firmly. “You need a good night’s sleep if you’re gunna get up and have family breakfast with us.”

“Jonesie—“

“Say g’night to Uncle Nole, Grey!”

Nolan had finally grunted his agreement and Velvet had drifted off to sleep sometime later, Jonah still up singing silly little made-up lullabies and playing the simple little games you play with babies, and when she awoke next it was to the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon and something cinnamon-y baking in the oven.  And to the sounds of animated, if quiet, conversation and the happy chipper sounds of the baby playing with the electronic light-up toys in his play seat. 

Now, 24 years later, she still got a little misty at the memory of walking out into the open-concept kitchen\living\dining area of the old brick townhouse and experiencing the first-ever Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast.

“—more, Velvet?” 

Velvet blinked and then flushed slightly.  Whoops.  She’d been caught day-dreaming.  “I’m sorry?”

Jonah stood beside her chair with the glass pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.  “I asked if you’d like any more.”  He told her gently.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Wife.” He added quietly, in a way that made her think maybe he knew exactly where she’d wandered off to just then. 

She grinned up at him and then looked around the table at her family.  They were all there—Viola, looking bleary eyed and grumpy as a teenager should, the twins, both in their glasses because it was way too early to think about putting in contacts, Even Avalon had decided to come and she’d somehow convinced Ben of the endeavor, and the handsome young man was enduring it gracefully, she thought.  And, of course, Grey with Maggie. 

Velvet had asked Nolan, when he’d married Zahra, if he would keep coming over to their place—She and Jonah had moved out of the townhouse when they’d married, but he’d made the early morning trip over to their new place annually—for the traditional breakfast.  He’d smiled, said he would miss them very much, but that it was time to start his own family traditions. 

She wondered what that Delaney bunch did on this day.  She’d never thought to inquire.  And Caleb sometimes joined them, but this Valentine’s was especially prickly and he couldn’t be convinced to crawl out of bed this time around to celebrate ‘that idiot cupid’. 

But she had her family, and that made her warm and contented.

“No, thank you, Sweetheart.”  She said in response to the juice query, and he moved around the table to offer to Avalon and Ben.

She listened to Maggie discussing the wedding with Ava, and to the twins teasing their father about the silver at his temples, and to Grey trying to pull his youngest sister out of her moody teenager-y gloom with humor, and she turned to Ben, who was sipping his coffee and casting his glance about, looking for a conversation to join.

She leaned over to him and confided: “I wasn’t a Delaney at my first Delaney Family Valentine’s breakfast either, you know.”

He lowered the coffee mug from his lips and smiled.  “No?”

She shook her head and giggled.  “Grey wasn’t either, I guess, come to think of it.”  She added thoughtfully, realizing that while Jonah’s intent was clear from before Grey’d been born, she hadn’t actually processed the papers until he was around six months old.

“I wasn’t what?”  Grey asked sharply, always able to hear his name when spoken in a crowd.

“A Delaney, at the first Valentine’s day.”  She answered, throwing a contrite look at Jonah who was leaning in to ask Viola about more orange juice, the very idea of which seemed to make the girl faintly ill. 

“Ah.”  Said Grey in response and met eyes with Maggie.   Velvet followed his gaze and saw Maggie nod marginally and nibble her lower lip.  “Funny you should bring that up.”  Grey said, rising from his seat and going to stand behind Maggie’s chair.

The table quieted down and everybody was watching Grey curiously.  Velvet felt a hand on her own shoulder and looked up to see Jonah smiling a little, captivated by Grey.

“Because, this time next year there will be another Delaney with us.”

Velvet looked at Ben for a moment before remembering that Ben wouldn’t become a Delaney, Avalon would be becoming a Sinclair.  She looked back at Grey, who seemed to be locked in a challenging gaze with Jonah, and then at Maggie who didn’t seem able to meet anyone’s eyes.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and she looked up, puzzled.  Then the hand was gone and Jonah was crossing around the breakfast table to where Grey stood, and extending the hand for a shake.  “Congratulations, Son!”  He said warmly “That’s wonderful news!”  Velvet watched him pull Grey into a hearty embrace and then kiss the boy’s cheek before pulling Maggie from her seat, hugging her and bending to kiss her cheek as well.  “Congratulations.”  He said again.

“Thank you.”  Maggie said shyly, still hardly able to keep her eyes off the table. 

“When are you Due?”  Velvet heard Avalon ask sharply.

Maggie looked at Grey, who smiled easily at his sister.  “Summer.”  He replied vaguely, but in a tone that did not invite follow-up.

“Due?”  Velvet heard herself ask. And she felt all eyes upon her, even Maggie’s. 

Jonah chuckled into the tense stillness of the kitchen.  “She’s in shock.”  He said pleasantly. “Can you blame her?  She’s still far too young to be a grandmother.”  He said, crossing back and kissing her atop her head, before whispering in her ear “Love, Our son is going to be a father.”

Her eyebrows lifted in the middle and her mouth opened in an ‘o’.  “Grey?”

Grey met her eyes and his lips quirked into something like a smile, his expression almost bittersweet.  “Surprised?”

“Maggie?”

Maggie blushed and smiled weakly at her mother-in-law and gave a little nod of affirmation.

Velvet knew, for certain, in that moment, that he’d married her because she’d gotten pregnant; and the image of Vaughan Grey’s arrogant, selfish face swam, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind and she quite suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

“Velvet?”  Jonah’s voice was all concern and Grey’s joined in, “Mum?  Are you alright?”

Soon others at the table were asking, Jonah had Ava put the kettle on for more tea and Velvet felt ridiculous.  It was as if someone had pushed a button and opened floodgates.  She felt foolish and embarrassed and perfectly awful for ruining the big announcement.

“I’m so happy!”  She managed to force out through chattering teeth and sobs, earning nervous laughter from a few parties around the table.  Jonah knelt beside her chair and gathered her against him and she sobbed into his neck.  “I’m so happy.”  She repeated as he patted her back soothingly.

Dimly she was aware that Ben Sinclair had helped ease the awkwardness by getting out of his seat and going over to the opposite side of the table to congratulate the couple, which cued all her daughters to follow suit.

By the time all the family had congratulated them Velvet had managed to get herself mostly under control.  She sat up a little straighter, took her head from her husband’s shoulder and hastily swiped the wetness from her cheeks.  Sniffling and forcing herself to take reasonable breaths she smiled a watery smile at Jonah.  Her rock.  Her everything.  “I’m so sorry.”  She whispered and he smiled.

“Don’t you dare.”  He warned her playfully.  “Now go hug your son and daughter, Grandma.” 

Her eyes widened and she half giggled-half sobbed.  He helped her to her feet and when she was steady she practically flew at Maggie, wrapping the girl in a startlingly fierce embrace.  “This is absolutely wonderful.”  She told the girl passionately, holding her close, wanting to tell her so much more than was appropriate to do so in the kitchen, with all the family gathered around.  “Thank you.”  She said, pulling back enough to look deep into the girl’s dark eyes.  She wondered if the girl was frightened, or regretted her condition.  “Oh Maggie!”  She exhaled.  “I love you so much.”  And she squeezed her again, feeling the bonds of a kindred spirit, even if the poor girl was flummoxed by the overpowering surge of affection.  “And this baby will be everything to you, trust me.”  She said in an almost whisper.

“Gracias.”  Maggie said, reflexively slipping into Spanish with the heightened emotion.  “Thank you.”  She corrected shakily.

Between Jonah’s efforts and Ben’s too, the kitchen was soon bubbling with animated conversations.  Velvet heard the twins arguing playfully about whether it would be a boy or a girl, Viola wondered when, exactly it would be due, and Avalon made some comment about bridesmaid’s dresses. 

Still clinging to Maggie, Velvet felt a hand on her back and knew it wasn’t her husband.  Almost regretfully she released Maggie at last and, with a last reassuring smile that she tried to fill with all the subtext she couldn’t speak just now, Velvet spun to face her son.

He was so tall and handsome and grown up.  He looked like his father, only his eyes, her eyes, were kinder, she was sure of it.  She took his handsome face in her hands and searched those pale green eyes, trying to discover the truth that was eluding her.  “You’ve got to be good to her Grey.”  She told him at last, and she watched his bemused smile dissolve and his face grow serious.

“I know.”  He replied in a low voice.

“Grey—“

“I understand, Mum.”  He said curtly, his brows heavy over his eyes.

She swallowed and felt a trembling in her knees.  She hoped he did understand.  She hoped he would prove to be more Jonah’s son than Vaughan’s.  She pulled him into an embrace too, though this one was more guarded, wary. 

When she broke the hug she hitched a super-bright smile in place and declared with her signature verve: “We’ll have to have a baby shower!”

Prelude to a Showdown, or: Baby Shower (teaser)

Not even LolCats are immune to the dreaded bug!!

Staying home from work with the ole bug.  Will try desperately to make it to aftercare though, as I teach a drama enrichment on monday afternoons.  I'm a drama teacher, don't ya know?

SO............

Even though I have a whole FOLDER of unpublished vignettes, I wanted to publish this one that I wrote tonight, because it is the first complete little vignette I have written in some time.  It is also a 'flash forward' into things that will come to pass, which makes a nice change from all the flashbacks we've been having.  I wanted to give you a little teaser, a taste, of the way the story is unfolding.  It will not all make sense, but I hope it will whet your apetite and keep you reading! 

Enjoy!  And stay hydrated, all you sufferers of this awful bug :\ 

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

Velvet slipped her fingers up the crisp, perfectly ironed cotton-silk blend of her husband’s collared shirt and felt the muscles bunched and knotted beneath it.  He flinched at her touch—just a fraction, just a bit, but he flinched, and she sighed.  He’d been doing that lately, the nervous flinching at her touch, and she was well and truly over fretting about it.  For weeks, for months, she’d tried to get to the bottom of this strange new reaction to something he’d always melted into, something that had always before elicited a contented exhale of relief and enjoyment.  But whenever she’d ask, the same brush offs would inevitably follow;  the ‘Nothing, Love’s, and the ‘Must have been daydreaming’s and the ‘Sorry, Sweetheart’s  piled up, day after day, before he’d quickly recover from the initial automatic reaction and he’d be her Jonah for a while.  Her Jonah, but not her Jonah too.  And there was nothing she could do to persuade him to confide in her whatever the hell was slowly, but very surely, driving an invisible wedge between them.

So this morning, when he did it, she couldn’t muster the energy to comment, to call attention to it, to put up a fuss.  She simply sighed and pushed her small hands up the broad expanse of his back and found his shoulders, which were not easy for her to reach when he stood, like he was now, at his full height.  “Hello Angel.”  He murmured, forcing a gentleness that did not agree with his tensed frame.  Velvet swallowed as she began to knead the taut muscles on either side of his neck.  Jonah Delaney was ready for a fight.  He expected an altercation.  He was bracing himself for one, standing there in his tailored shirt and his best dress khakis, cleanly shaven and showered and smelling, like he always did, of clean laundry and fresh soap and bergamot.

“I love you.”  She prefaced, sticking her toe in the water to take his temperature.

“I love you.”  He replied effortlessly, his shoulders like stone under her newly manicured fingers.  He said it so easily, so readily.  It was an habitual thing.  And at the moment Velvet couldn’t help wondering how many times he’d said it like that, so pleasant but so devoid of real feeling—wondered how many times she’d smiled and purred and ignored that hollow note resonating within the words he recited by rote.  “That feels wonderful, thank you.”  He added, just as automatically.

Velvet made an indistinct sort of noise in her throat and tried to work her fingers into his stony clusters of muscles with little effect.  The guests would start arriving any time now.  Caleb had come early to help her set up, and was around there somewhere giving orders and seeing to last minute details.  Usually Grace helped out with that sort of thing, but, well, in light of present circumstances…

Velvet couldn’t help the little sigh that huffed out of her, thinking about all the terrible ways her family was being ripped apart.  And all of the awfulness mounting up on a day that was meant to celebrate family, celebrate new life, celebrate the bonds of blood and marriage.  She half wished she could cancel the shower, have a rain date; But what good would it be postponing the inevitable?  It would only add fuel to the fire, as it were.  The gossips were already buzzing so loud around town that Velvet imagined Cedar Falls had turned into one massive hive of supposition and rumor and salivating scandal mongers.  The amount of behind-the-hand conversations that had sprung up in her wake as she made her way through the market this week had put her on edge, but that was nothing compared with the open stares and pitying glances she received while out on the Centre street as she picked up the last of the things she needed for the shower.

It was miserable.  And humiliating.  And desperately awkward.  She felt as though she were emblazoned with some scarlet letter on her breast; yoked with the neck-breaking albatross of ‘dysfunctional family’—she felt the pitiable weight of it all pulling her spirits down into some grim abyss.  She felt herself frowning more than she’d ever done before.  And worrying.  And praying. 

To whom?  She didn’t really have a clear grasp on that, but that was a whole separate issue, and not one she really had time for, especially not on the day of Maggie and Grey’s Baby Shower.

All this when she should be the happiest little wife and mother in the county.  The wedding had gone so beautifully!  Her first grandchild was very nearly here!  Her twin girls had graduated high school with top grades and limitless prospects for the future!  Her husband was up for the top promotion!  Life for the Delaneys should have been as charmed and charming as a storybook.

She let her hands slip down his back and fall away as dead weight.  She hadn’t made any headway at all and her hands were beginning to cramp.  He turned his head to the side just a fraction.  “All done?”  He asked politely, as though she were a co-worker who’d just handed in some minor report.

“Mhm.”  She intoned succinctly, not trusting her voice to mask her real feelings.

“My thanks.”

They stood there, together, for a long few moments in silence, looking out over the splendidly appointed back lawn.  The party tents, the bouncy castle, the buffet tables, the ice sculpture.  The sculpted rose bushes she’d had brought in, the large round tables with their fine linen, and the stylishly upscale folding chairs.  The neatly mown grass, the freshly re-pebbled walks.  The pool, blue and rippling and glinting diamonds in the late spring sun.

“Beautiful work, as usual, Mrs. Delaney.”  Jonah said quietly, and with his easy grace turned just enough to slip his arm around her and pull her to him gently.

“Thank you.”  She hadn’t intended to answer in that tight-throated whisper.

He glanced down at her and she avoided his eyes.  After a moment she could feel him looking back out once more, and she could breathe a little easier. 

“Do you think she’ll come?”  She asked, following one of the cater-waiters with her eyes absently, her mind fixed on the many ways this celebration could turn into an epic disaster.

Jonah gave a short, uncharitable laugh.  “Which?”  He asked, an undercurrent of bitterness and hurt flashing white-hot through the simple retort.

Velvet leaned her head against him and sighed yet again.  It was a fair and a loaded question.  “Any of them.”  She responded dully.  “All of them.”  She added.

Jonah was quiet.  Velvet watched the landscaper adjusting some lovely urns of riotous hot-house blooms in the area surrounding the swimming pool.  She felt a shiver chase through her husband, from top to bottom, and she shivered a little in response, despite the pleasantly warm morning, her teeth chattering together a few times before she could compose herself.

“I believe Avalon will attend, if only out of duty.”  He said in a detached and professorial voice.  “I think Grace may attend because of our desperate entreaties.”  He said, maintaining his emotionless tone.  “And I expect Viola will be here—“  He cut himself off, seemingly in mid thought.  Velvet tilted her head up to watch the small, silent debate her was having with himself.  After a few moments he shrugged and continued his original prediction.  “I expect Viola will be here, quite against her will, because He will wish to drag her to this event and parade her around on his arm.”  Jonah said almost casually, sending another icy shiver slipping down Velvet’s spine. “To hurt me.”  He said quietly, but calmly.  “To humiliate us.”  Jonah finished matter-of-factly.

Velvet’s hand reached up of its own volition and cupped his beautiful face very gently.  Behind his glasses Jonah’s exceptional violet eyes seemed to shimmer and burn as he stared fixedly out, over the nearly-party of their lawn.  Velvet thought if she followed his gaze she would find him staring at that old swing-set he’d put together when the kids were small.

She searched his face but, as usual these days, it was unreadable.  Even.  Controlled.  He was getting very, very good at compartmentalizing, at quarantining his more visceral reactions, his more human feelings;  He was fast becoming adept at presenting a mild, uninterested persona.  And only if you got close, like Velvet did, could you see the strain around his eyes, the pulling at the corners of his mouth, spot the enormous effort it was taking to keep up appearances, feel the miserable tension twisting every fibre and sinew of his long, graceful form.

“What are you planning?”  She ventured cautiously.

A muscle ticked in her husband’s jaw, but when he spoke it was in the same calm, neutered voice as before.  “At my son and daughter-in-law’s baby shower?”  He asked rhetorically, “I plan on being the perfect host.”

Velvet felt something panicky and ominous jittering around behind her ribs.  She imagined a pin ball with her ex-husband’s face on it, battering around inside her torso—slamming into her ribs, crashing off her spine, zooming circles around her heart and bouncing again and again through her lungs, robbing her of air in odd little bursts.

“What do you think he’s planning?”  She asked as levelly as she could manage, some of it coming out like a croak.

Jonah snorted very softly, like a horse ready to take its head from its rider.  “He’ll want to get me to throw a punch,”  Jonah said plainly, “Or worse.”

Velvet closed her eyes and held them closed, collecting her wits and catching her breath.  “Jonah, you can’t—“

“I’m aware.”  He cut her off curtly.

She tried to swallow but found the task undoable at the present moment.

She watched the tent people triple-checking the rigging, and the tie-backs on the flaps, and whatever the hell else a tent-erector had to check thrice.  The hum and whirr of the motor on the bouncy house cushioned the steady lap and splash of the gentle waves in the pool and Velvet thought she’d quite like a frozen cocktail and a license to put her feet up and forget the whole affair.

“I love you.”  She told him again, the words falling out on yet another, quite resigned--and quite disillusioned--sigh.

Wedding Planning

I realized that I haven't posted any fiction at all so far this month :(

So this is a bit of a departure from the main story line.  It's Avalon!  T-minus four months to the wedding!  

This scene takes place the day after the LONG NIGHT dinner scenes, so we're moving right along (since I decided to abandon ship on that bunch o'vignettes!)

Enjoy!

It is brief.

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

“Who has Ben asked to fill the extra groomsman spot?”  Avalon’s mother asked, then took a small bite of her field green salad.

It was Monday afternoon and they’d had plans to get together to start planning the invitations and the menu and all manner of other things for the wedding.  However.  Avalon had spent the last half an hour listening to her mother rattle on and on about Maggie and Grey.  Avalon was so damned tired of hearing about, thinking about, pretending to care at all about Maggie and Grey that she thought her head might explode from the effort it was taking not to flip out at her frustratingly clueless mother.

And now?  The first wedding-related question she asks all afternoon and it has to do entirely with Maggie?  Avalon thought she might just lose it.  She calmly lifted her ice water to her lips, wishing it were a soda but soda has too many calories, and she held her features perfectly still while she sipped. 

Ben wouldn’t need to go fishing for an extra groomsman if her mother hadn’t absolutely insisted Avalon include Maggie in the bridal party.  ‘But Ava, darling, she’s your sister now!  She’s family!  You wouldn’t want to exclude family!’

Ugh.  She’d have looked like the world’s biggest bitch if she’d refused.  Even though asking a complete stranger to be in one’s wedding seemed to Avalon to be absolute lunacy.  Apparently if the complete stranger elopes with your stupid bastard of a brother they just have to be a bridesmaid!

“Ethan.”  Avalon replied after swallowing and setting her cool glass back onto the table.

Velvet chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed, took a drink of her own ice water and smiled that dazzling Velvet Delaney smile.  “Ethan Harcourt?” 

“Mmmhmm.”  Avalon replied dispassionately.

Velvet looked sly.  “But didn’t you and he—“

“Mum.”  Avalon’s brows drew together sharply.

A flash of something mischievous flashed in Velvet’s big pale green eyes and she set her fork down. 

“Does Ben know?”

Avalon licked the inside of her teeth and looked at her mother as sternly as possible.

Her mother giggled in response. 

“This isn’t funny.”  Avalon snapped.

Velvet covered her irrepressible smile with perfectly manicured fingers, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her guilty mirth away.  “I’m so sorry—it’s just—you look so much like your father when you make that face.”  She giggled again before clearing her throat and composing her features into some semblance of calm and appropriate concern.

Avalon picked up her own fork and stabbed ruthlessly at her salad.  She wanted something awful, like pizza or cookies.  She’d kill for a big ole bowl of mashed potatoes with tons of melty butter.  Grimly she opened her mouth to accept the baby spinach, radicchio and kale with just the barest tease of raspberry vinaigrette.

“I’m sorry.”  Velvet repeated, really trying for an expression of compassion or at least sympathy.  “But, does he?  Does Ben know about you and-“

“Yes.”  Avalon answered.  It was half true.  Ben knew she’d dated his good friend Ethan a few times before they’d become a pair.  He even knew that she’d slept with Ethan.  But he really didn’t know the half of it.  And she would prefer it to remain that way.

Her mother knew more than she was strictly comfortable with.  She’d found the pictures on Avalon’s computer one day when she was trying to put together a damned photo album as a surprise present for Jonah’s birthday a few years back.  Stumbling upon those pictures must have been a real eye-opener.  She’d certainly expressed her concerns at the time. 

Now Velvet looked quite astonished.  “He does?”  She was incredulous.

“Mum, drop it.”

Velvet pressed her lips together and Avalon recognized, from a lifetime of seeing her do it, that her mother was struggling very, very hard to control her tongue. 

Just as she always did, Avalon began a silent count in her head, a silent count to see how many Mississippis it would take before Velvet inevitably lost the private little battle and succumbed to her inability to govern her mouth.

One Mississippi.  Two Mississippi.  Three Mississippi.  Four Mississippi.  Five Mississi—

“Has he seen the pictures?!” 

Mother and daughter both paused to sigh out in unison.  Velvet looked apologetic and Avalon tried to feel forgiving.  Afterall, it wasn’t her fault.  The woman was like a giddy child.  All heart and very little self-control.

“I am not discussing this one minute more.”  Avalon replied as civilly as she could manage.  “And you promised you would never mention those pictures again.”

Again Velvet looked apologetic.  She even blushed just a little.  “Sorry.”

Avalon nodded her acceptance of the apology and took another bite of her salad while her mother sipped some more water.  Then Avalon’s eyes flew open wide.  “Oh my god, you didn’t tell Dad, did you?  Oh my god, tell me you never told Dad.  Tell me he doesn’t know—oh jesus, you didn’t show him right?”  Avalon’s mouth was dry and she felt panicky.

Velvet looked stunned.  “No, of course not, no, honey—no, absolutely he has no idea, Av—I wouldn’t do that to you.”  She soothed and assured quickly and with enough conviction that Avalon allowed herself to calm down, to relax.  “No honey.”  Her mother repeated solemnly.  “I love your father and want him around a while longer.  I have no desire to give him a heart attack.”

Avalon’s eyes widened and she gaped at her mother.  The tiniest hint of a smile flitted across Velvet’s oh-so-innocent expression and her pale green eyes danced with merriment.

Avalon burst into laughter.  What else could she do?  Cry about it?  She laughed deeply and fully.  Her mother joined in readily and they laughed for several full minutes before managing to settle back down.

“Have you ever done any of that stuff with Ben?”  Her mother asked suddenly, her voice low and giddy and hungry for juicy gossip.

Avalon was still tingling and merry from the cathartic bout of laughter so instead of getting sour at the probing invasion of privacy, she grinned.  “Wouldn’t you just love to know.”  She teased.

Her mother grinned back.  Avalon waited until her mother had lifted her water glass once more to get her payback.  As her mother sipped Avalon asked casually:  “Have you ever done that stuff with Dad?”

The spit-take was perfect.  Paragon Velvet Delaney expelled a spray of water out over the table with the full force of her surprise and, judging by the smile, her delighted amusement.

Avalon laughed, satisfied with her little victory, and set her salad fork down on the plate now that her meal was covered in a mist of her mother’s spittle.  It was a necessary sacrifice.

“Avalon Grace!”  Her mother responded when she’d stopped giggling.  Then she tisked.  “That’ll teach me, I guess.”

Avalon leaned back in her seat and sighed, knowing that Velvet Delaney would never learn.  She knew her mother would always probe too deeply; ask questions that were far too personal and private.  She was unstoppable and she was tenacious. 

“And I’m not answering one way or the other,”  She said with a coy little smile as she dabbed her face with a napkin.  “But when you’re looking for something old and borrowed, if I were you I’d avoid the trunk in my bedroom closet unless you want to see things you can’t un-see.”

“Ugh!”  Avalon groaned.  “Gross, Mum!”  Velvet was giggling hysterically as she stood and collected their salad plates and shuttled them off to the counter near the sink.  “I wish I could un-hear what you just said!”  She shivered and tried desperately to stop picturing her Mum and Dad doing some of the things she’d been into with Ethan.  Bleck.

“Oh Avalon relax.  There’s nothing that hasn’t been done before.  The ancient Greeks—“

“Mum, please, for God’s sake!”  She was half-laughing but she was very firm in her tone.

“But it’s natural to want to experiment—“

“Holy god, shut your trap, for five minutes, just zip your lips, can you?”  She half-laughed and half wished she were just having a terrible dream.  “I don’t care what you and dad do, I just really really really do not need to know about it.”  She rushed desperately.  “Or think about it.  Or imagine it in any way.”  It was bad enough she’d grown up listening to it from two bedrooms away. 

Her mother giggled again but she relented.  “I hope your children are more accepting of your lovelife then you are of mine.”  She teased pleasantly.

“Let’s talk wedding, please, can we?”

Velvet grinned as she filled the kettle for tea.  “So Ethan Harcourt, hmm?”  She chuckled merrily and moved the kettle over to the stove.  “I wonder what other delightful little surprises we’ll get as this wedding draws nearer!”

Avalon rolled her eyes as she pulled a legal pad and pen from her wedding-planning-canvas-ecofriendly-bag.  No more surprises.  Please?  Pretty please with a cherry on top?

She slapped the pad down on the table and began scribbling down the names of her bridesmaids, junior bridesmaids and flower girls on one side, and on the other she listed the groomsmen, junior usher, and ringbearer.

She frowned at the list.  She’d slept with more of the listed parties than she was strictly comfortable with.  And the other ones were her blood relatives.  Or children.

She rolled her eyes to the heavens.  No more surprises, ok?  No more little speed bumps or screw-ups, or anything like that.  K?  You got that?  Are you hearing this? 

“Hey—“  her mother said, slipping back into her seat and dabbing at the rest of the sprayed water droplets with a dishtowel.  “Does Ben know about you and his cousin?”

Avalon grimaced.  Maybe she should just elope.

“Or, actually, I should say cousins—both of them, right?“

She almost wished they were still talking about goddamn Grey and Maggie.

Late

Wooo, a double entry, we all know how i love that!

Anywayz, because my reader, the incomparable Yelling Pigeon, has already guessed as much, I figured I'd post this next vignette to validate her wonderful imagination for plot and scandal!

I had it written and she was all over it already! Maybe i'd better try harder to shock and subvert?!?!?

Anyway, this takes place just a little bit BEFORE the Sick Day.  It is a little... um... revelatory about Vaughan Grey and Velvet's little side relationship...

Enjoy ;)

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

Velvet was late. 

She was so busy being a young mother of four that she hadn’t been paying attention and she hadn’t been careful.

Now she was staring at the kitchen calendar with some distress, flipping back a month, flipping back another.

Shit.

With a measure of panic she tried to remember the date of her last ‘appointment’ with Vaughan.

Oh, God damn it.

She felt a heavy stone crash to the floor of her middle, and her heartbeat just about quadrupled.  Her mouth went dry and her eyes welled up.

Please, God, no.  Please.

She closed her eyes and tried desperately not to fly into hysterics.  Breathe.  Think.  Breathe.  With grim determination she opened her eyes once more and studied the calendar once again, as if willing it so might change the awful fact that she hadn’t bled since the last time she’d fucked her ex-husband.

“What’s the matter, Love?” 

She jumped a mile at the warm kiss atop the back of her head, the long arms wrapping around her from behind, and the sweet intimate murmur of Jonah’s voice against her skull.

“Oooh.  Sorry.”  He chuckled softly.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Velvet swallowed and placed a shaking hand over her heart—it was pounding so hard she was suddenly afraid he might just hear it and get suspicious.  “You snuck up on me.”  She gushed in a feathery voice, hoping she sounded like her adorable self despite feeling anything but.

She felt like a whore, and a lunatic, and a criminal, and a victim, and a frightened little girl all at once.

“Sorry Sweetheart.”  He murmured again, squeezing a little tighter, pulling her small, delicate body against his and nuzzling affectionately into her hair.  “Mmmm.”  He sighed, cozy and warm.  “Everyone’s in bed—finally—and maybe, if we’re very lucky—“  He chuckled almost giddily, “Maybe they’re actually asleep by now too.”

She let out a soft little laugh.  “Wishful thinking, Mr. Delaney.”  She cooed, spinning in his embrace and going up on tiptoe for a kiss.  He kissed her sweetly, with just an edge of something hungry and needy.

What was she going to do?  She could hardly think straight.  She’d been ill that morning, and the morning before, and, come to think of it, the morning before that!  But she’d ignored it because the flu was going around.  Grey’d stayed home from school with it last week.  She’d figured she would come down with it, and so the vomiting, the upset stomach, the aches, and the dragging exhaustion all seemed par for the course.

Ugh.  Golf metaphors?

“Hey.”  Jonah said, pulling back from the kiss and peering at her.  “Where are you?”  His voice was all gentle concern.  He ran two knuckles down the side of her face lightly and searched her visage as if he might be able to divine her troubling secrets.

She nuzzled into his hand and did her best to smile sweetly.  “I don’t know what we’re going to do about those twins.”  She supplied immediately.  She was very good at lying to her husband.  She hated doing it, but she had to do it, and so, she reasoned that she’d better learn to do it well.  She lived to make Jonah happy; to make him as happy as he made her every day.  He was a good man.  The best man she’d ever met. 

He didn’t deserve a wife that fucked around on him with her sonofabitch ex-husband twice a year at his fucking command.  Her frown deepened and Jonah looked genuinely sympathetic.

“Did they give you trouble at nap time again?”  He asked, moving his hands to gently massage the tension from her bird-like shoulders.  She closed her eyes and enjoyed how large and strong—and yet how gentle—his hands felt on her petite frame.

She nodded.  “They just play and sing and gab away at eachother up there.”  She sighed, moaning just a little at how good his ministrations felt.  He knew just how to massage her.  He was the best husband in the world.

“And we’re done trying to put them in separate rooms?”  He asked carefully.  It was the solution that made the most sense from a purely academic perspective.

“Jonah, you’re not here in the day, you don’t know what it’s like.”  She snapped with a fierce pout.

He promptly kissed that pout, eliciting a begrudging giggle from her.

He pulled back and grinned down at her.  “I know it Angel.”  He assured her.  “I get the picture well enough from the weekend days.  They scream bloody murder at me if I even try to put them down in separate bedrooms.” 

She was glad the topic had so distracted him from her fretting over the calendar.  She wished it could be so easy to forget the dilemma herself.  “I don’t know why they can manage to fall asleep in the same room at night.”  Velvet wondered aloud for what felt like the hundredth time.  This little drama had been plaguing the Delaney household for weeks and weeks now.

“Maybe because it’s so dark.”  Jonah posited, abandoning the massage and pulling his wife in for a hearty bear hug.  “I read them four stories tonight.”  He informed her, trailing his fingers up and down her back slowly and soothingly.  “After that I went in to Ava’s room and she wanted just the one, you know, the one with the princess and the suitors?  But I had to re-read it over twice more.”  He laughed softly.  “I wouldn’t be heartbroken if that damn book got lost somewhere…”

Velvet giggled on cue, but she was only half listening.  If she was…she didn’t even want to think the word, that’s how terrified she was.  But if she was…you know, then it wasn’t necessarily Vaughan’s.  She and Jonah had a pretty active sex life for a couple of exhausted young parents with four small children.  It could definitely be Jonah’s.  It was possible.

But what if it wasn’t? 

She worried her lip and buried her face in his chest, wishing she could hide from this and make it all disappear.

“And then Grey and I got to chapter fifteen in our story—“ He was saying, sounding very pleased and a little proud.  “And he actually looked disappointed when I said we’d need to stop for the night.”  Jonah laughed once and sighed a little.  “Not bad for a book he called ‘stupid’ and ‘boring’ when I first suggested it.”

She murmured some positive response and focused on counting the steady, calm, reliable beats of Jonah’s good heart. 

She should have fought Vaughan harder last time.  When he’d told her he wanted to do bondage.  She should have been more assertive.  More adamant.  Instead she’d capitulated, like she always did when it came to Vaughan, and she’d let him tie her up.  Let him strap her to the bed.

Undeniably it had been hot.  It had been beyond sexy.  She’d felt like a character in a sexy novel; she’d felt scared and aroused and vulnerable and in danger and so turned on she was sure she must have been positively dripping with anticipation and arousal by the time he finally put himself inside her. 

He’d taken his time with the foreplay.  And he’d blindfolded her for some of it.  She’d almost fainted from the terror—he could be a frightening man, her ex-husband, and he’d played a very scary game with scissors. When she got home she told Jonah she’d just decided she wanted a haircut.  She’d cried about the new short length of it for hours after it was done.  She’d cried and Vaughan had smoked his cigar and when she’d finally stopped sobbing he’d made her suck him off so he could run his fingers through the newly shortened tresses while she did it.

And while she was tied up she’d had no say over him—over the contraception.  He’d taken out her diaphragm.  She’d begged him to put it back and he’d laughed at her.  He promised he’d pull out—said he wanted to cover her in his come.  The titillation of knowing her diaphragm was not in place had made her all the more aroused, despite her common sense screaming at her to stop him at all costs.

So she’d stopped her struggling and chosen to believe him. 

And he distracted her with foreplay that just about melted the wall paper from the hotel walls. 

She was ashamed of it, thinking of it now, in Jonah’s loving arms, but she had begged Vaughan, actually begged him to put his cock in her, he’d made her want him so much.

She hated him for that.  For being able to do that to her.  Hated herself for being weak and stupid and awful.

And he had finally slammed into her, and he’d fucked her hard, like a whore gets fucked, and she’d loved it.  Loved being bound and blindfolded and at his mercy. 

And he’d brought her close, so close to the release she desperately needed, and he was close too, and then he’d leaned down and snarled: “I lied Princess—I’m gunna fill you up—and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

She’d screamed then, and struggled against the ties binding her, bucked wildly against him, tried in vain to throw him off her, make him slip out, and he’d just chuckled and thrust harder, deeper, more crushingly into her.  He’d smothered her screams with his broad, rough hand and fucked her like an animal in rut; indistinguishable from a monster but for the deliberate, controlled expression in his terrifyingly cold, dark eyes.

He’d liked the struggle.  Urged her on.  Taunted her so that she’d fight harder.  He’d liked the way she’d clenched around him, tried to squeeze herself closed against him, and thrown her body into wild contortions trying to be free of him.  He’d licked the tears off her face as he pounded into her.  When she bit his hand like a little hell cat he’d slapped her hard and replaced it before she’d even had time to react; he’d been unfazed and probably more aroused than ever.

She realized later that she should have gone limp to spite him, gone corpse-like to deflate his arousal.  But in the heat of the moment she’d panicked—just like he knew she would—and she’d fought like a hellion to wriggle free.

And then he’d come.  Hard and long and gloriously.  Come deep inside her.

And she’d wept beneath him.  Wept bitterly while he remained within her, running his hands possessively over her body, putting his mouth wherever he pleased while he waited for his tumescence to recede all the way.  She’d cursed him and railed at him between sobs and told him how much she hated him.

He’d grinned, forced his mouth on hers until she was short of breath and sure she’d die, and then he’d pulled out of her, pulled a robe on over his nakedness, and left the room without a word.

Left her there.  With his filth stewing inside her. Left her tied up, and naked, and used, on the bed while he went to do whatever the fuck he’d felt like.

She was sure she’d suffered a panic attack there, alone, not knowing when or if he’d be coming back to let her lose.  She’d rather have killed herself than let some hotel worker find her in such a position.

She wasn’t able to see a clock, and at some point she’d finally dozed off, and when he came back the room was pitch black.

He’d woken her by pouring the contents of an ice bucket all over her.

She’d screamed and he’d stuffed a rolled-up pair of socks in her mouth.

Then he’d gone down on her. 

And Vaughan Grey didn’t simply go down on a woman.  He ravaged her with his fingers and tongue and lips and teeth.  He fucked her with his mouth until she was coming, quite against her will.  Coming, wave after wave after blessed wave of release—cresting in pleasure, and laced with bitter, angry regret.

He made her come, there in the pitch black, shivering and humiliated and at the mercy of a man she loathed.  He made her come in the way only Vaughan Grey could—that way that made her feel completely owned by him and bound to him forever.

Then he’d showered, again leaving her there, cold and unable to escape the pervading dampness of the melted ice cubes on and around her.  Left her trembling and moaning and whimpering and begging simultaneously for more and for him to leave her the fuck alone.

When he came back he brought her to another climax with just his fingers while he lazily smoked a cigar.  She still got a little wet thinking about laying bound in that dark hotel room, watching that red-orange ember on the end of his cigar blaze and then dim, flare and then fade while her stroked her steadily toward babbling madness and then to ecstasy.  Still felt tingles all over when she remembered how after she’d come back to earth he’d sucked in on the cigar, long and deep, and then exhaled all of it onto her slick, throbbing sex.

Eventually he’d untied her.  Mocked her by thanking her for a lovely evening.  ‘We’ll have to do it again sometime.’  He’d said with that rancid smirk of his, and she’d wanted to lunge at him, throw herself on him and kick, and bite, and scratch, but he’d quelled her preemptively by reminding her that she’d need to go home to her husband looking fresh as a daisy. ‘It’ll be hard enough explaining the haircut, Sugar, you don’t want to have to try and talk your way around a black eye too.’

So she’d pulled herself up and off the bed with as much dignity and poise as she could muster and she’d carried herself to the hotel bathroom, trying not to look at the hanks of her beautiful hair laying cast-off on the floor.  And she’d showered.  Showered and scrubbed and practically scalded herself in an effort to wash herself clean of what he’d done.  She’d pissed in the shower and hoped the urine would kill any chance of conception—she’d heard that it would—and she reached inside herself and tried to clean out residue that might remain of him.  She’d sobbed the whole time.

“Love?” 

Presently Jonah was looking downright stern.  He’d been trying to get her attention and she’d been lost in those terrible thoughts.

“I’m so tired.”  She confessed meekly.

His stern expression melted into a kind, sympathetic one.  “Of course you are, Angel.”  He said in a soft, smooth voice.  “It’s been a long week.”  He gathered up her small hands in his large ones and brought them to his lips.  “I’m home now though, and you can let me do all the work.”  He smiled at her happily.  “I love weekends with you.”  He told her genuinely.  “I love to make sure you put your feet up and get a little bit pampered.”

She smiled weakly.  “Take me to bed?”

He blinked, momentarily surprised.  “It’s still early.”

“I didn’t mean it was time to sleep.”  She said in a silky tone she only really half-felt.

His eyebrows lifted.  “Ah.”  He said and nodded thoughtfully.  “In that case, love, let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

He slipped her right hand into his left and shut off the kitchen light as they went.  She’d think about this tomorrow.  She’d think about it when he was busy being the perfect father to their perfect little family. 

She knew she had to figure out a way to rid her body of what she was sure was Vaughan Grey’s sordid poison. 

And do it before Jonah ever suspected she was…anything other than completely his.