Elizabeth left Wanda in the care of Rachel while she went looking for Darcy. Caroline, who was rounding up the tour personnel to get them to the venue for afternoon rehearsals, intercepted her and directed her to the limos waiting downstairs.
Elizabeth frowned worriedly. "Caro, can it wait a little? I really need to talk to Will."
Caroline, having witnessed enough of the disagreement, understood what was going on, but her sympathy only went so far, and delaying the daily routine was beyond it. "Talk in the limo," she said dismissively as she moved briskly down the hall in search of other wayward musicians.
Feeling a bit deflated, as well as foolish for having the fight with Will in the first place, Elizabeth did as she was directed. Her guitars were safely at the arena, so there was nothing holding her back. She met up with Charlotte in the elevator.
"Hey," she said in greeting.
Charlotte smiled with uncharacteristic brightness. Elizabeth was pleased to see that things had clearly been resolved between her friend and Richard. She itched to ask for details, but was forced to wait, trusting that Char would share when she was ready.
"Hey, how did the interviews go?"
"Good; I hired someone. Wait till you met her. Her name is Wanda and she's an ex-navy officer. She's great." Elizabeth smiled, relaxing into the familiar flow of conversation that was the norm for her and her best friend.
"You serious?" Charlotte laughed.
"Yeah, she said she was bored tending her flower garden and hanging out with the church ladies."
Charlotte laughed even harder. "So she joined up with a rock tour? There you go! This has got to be the strangest tour in the world."
Elizabeth laughed with her. Both of them knew there was no such thing as 'normal' when touring, but they had come to accept the unpredictability that had become a part of their lives.
"So," Elizabeth drew the word out meaningfully, "How's Richard?"
Charlotte looked at the ceiling, "He's fine."
"Oh, that's good," Elizabeth answered, matching Charlotte's deceptively careless tone of voice. "I really liked his song this morning."
Charlotte stopped her pretense and looked at her friend sincerely. "Yeah, me too." Her face expressed the jumbled emotions that she struggled to put into words. "I really like it when he writes songs like that. It means the rest of the world can see what I see in him."
Silently, Elizabeth pulled her friend into a hug, offering her reassurance and support. The elevator stopped, and they released each other before the doors opened.
Stepping out into the lobby, the women were greeted by Tommy, who was clearly waiting for them. "Walk with me please," he said, watching the area carefully.
Elizabeth obediently followed the security escort out the doors. There was a string of limos waiting for them with Rebecca overseeing everything, her eyes everywhere.
They were directed to two different cars. Elizabeth shrugged and gave a wave to Charlotte, who disappeared into the limo ahead of hers. As she walked with Tommy to her vehicle, Elizabeth reflected that she had long since given up worrying about things like security on the tour; she just didn't have the energy or attention to waste on someone else's job anymore, and she had complete trust in Rebecca.
Entering the back of the long, black limo she was surprised to find Darcy waiting there, alone. Tommy closed the door behind her. "This is it?"
Darcy nodded, "Caro said you wanted to talk, so she made sure we had some private time."
Elizabeth's sense of relief was so strong that she found herself in Darcy's arms, forgetting for a moment about their disagreement in her happiness at finding herself alone with him.
Darcy kissed her long and hard, then asked, amusement coloring his voice, "So, what did you want to talk about?"
"I wanted to apologize," she said, as she pressed her body against his, delighting in his warm solidness. "You were right, I was wrong. Doug was a total jerk."
Darcy held her close, taking in the scent of her hair, stroking her arms. "You don't need to apologize. I had forgiven you as soon as I walked out of the room." He stopped to kiss her, his eyes large and expressive, "I was worried you were still angry at me."
Elizabeth tilted her head and moved her lips in a line up his neck to his ear, which she nipped softly. The feel of his body, warm and solid against her, and under her mouth, his scent filling her, made her burn. "No, I do need to apologize. I really should have trusted you."
Darcy moaned softly in response, desire fogging his mind. "Lizzy," he breathed, struggling to keep his train of thought as she slid into his lap and continued her nuzzling. "Um, Lizzy, my love, remember that if I wanted someone to agree with everything I said, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you. I love you because you have your own mind. Promise me you won't change."
"Ummm, promise," she replied, shifting her legs to straddle him and rubbing closer. "How much longer to the arena?"
"Long enough," he whispered, reaching for her zipper.
She raised herself up on her knees, to help him with her clothes, swaying with the limo's movement. Lowering herself back down, she found that he had opened his pants as well, and she slid down on him, her breath catching.
Darcy moved forward to the edge of the seat, holding Elizabeth's ass in his hands, so he could fully penetrate her. He moved against her, and she caught his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her, as the world fell away. The tour, the bands, even their fight was forgotten in that moment. She kissed his neck, desperate to get as much of him into her as she could, then started pulsing her hips against him.
He took her face between his hands, pushing her hair back so he could look into her eyes. They were hazy with passion as she stared searchingly into his. They moved together, their rhythm working with the rhythm of the limo as it sped down the highway.
She stretched and writhed, experiencing the sensation of fullness, and taking slow, delicious gratification in it. Darcy was entranced by her, murmuring, "Yes, oh God, yes," as she slowly drew him into a sea of pleasure with her. She was achingly beautiful as he watched her moving in a sensuous dance, taking everything he had to give her.
She arched against him and he shuddered, fighting against himself for it not to be over. He grabbed her hips as she wrapped her arms about his shoulders tightly. It was her soft moans and whimpers in his ear combined with a forceful caress around him that was his undoing. With a cry of his own, he climaxed against her, holding her tightly to him until the spasms went away and their breathing returned to normal.
She lifted her eyes to him and he was struck by the openness he found there. Her soul was bared there, for him to see: the love, the need for his understanding and approval, the drive to succeed, and the frustration with herself when she didn't. He found himself overcome by a wave of tenderness, as he recognized how hard she was working to make everything right, and how very alike they were. Helping her back into her clothes, he didn't stop until she was back in his arms, holding her gently, kissing her temple and whispering his love to her, over and over again.
She rested against him, overwhelmed, and yet reassured by the rightness of their love. Her passion and adoration for him were so powerful, sometimes almost too powerful to handle, but they belonged to her, just like her music; a part of her woven into her soul, and with every moment, it grew stronger. She worried, from the comfort of his embrace that it was too much; that all their responsibilities, and the ambition that drove them, might overwhelm and destroy what they had created together.
Even as that thought was formed, she realized it was wrong. They would never let it happen. They were facing a great number of challenges, but they weren't helpless; they had each other, and they would never give up.
********** As if to make up for the troubles of the morning, the rest of the day went flawlessly. Rehearsal had gone well, giving Elizabeth a chance to relax in her music and bond with her band as they worked on a new song of Jane's, experimenting with different arrangements and enjoying the pure musicality of it.
She was pleasantly shocked to find that while she had been playing, Wanda had already gone to work, and with Rachel had set up the schedules for tomorrow's interviews. She was starting to feel like she could breathe again, the weight was lifting from her shoulders and she was comforted in knowing she had made the right choice of whom to hire.
As the men rehearsed, Elizabeth sat with her band mates and Caroline, and discussed exactly what they would reveal in the interviews. It was so new to them; they would periodically break into nervous laugher in amazement of it all.
With Caroline's coaching, they were able to work out a group line, balancing Elizabeth's frankness with Jane's reserve and Charlotte's sarcastic indifference.
While they were planning their hair and make-up for the photo shoot with Sarah, Wanda interrupted Elizabeth with a phone call. "It's Lucas, " she said precisely.
"Hello Lucas," Elizabeth said cheerfully into the phone.
"Bennet," he replied gamely. "I see you now have someone to answer your phone."
"Yes, Wanda is introducing military precision around here."
"Glad to hear it," he chuckled. "You sound much better, Lizzy," he said in a more sincere tone.
"Oh yeah," she said. "I just wish all my decisions were so successful. So, how about you? Did you finally get out of bed?"
"Well, a man has to eat."
"Madam Duval went home?"
"That's Mademoiselle Duval, and since she's used me all up, she's back with her true love, the computer."
Elizabeth heard Sylvie call out something she couldn't make out in the background. "She's still there?" Disbelief was evident in her voice.
"Don't say a word," he said sharply. "I spent a long, celibate summer on the 'Bump & Grind Tour for Sexual Deviants' and I don't want to hear it."
"Hey, I was celibate too, you know."
"And yet, why do I get the feeling that has changed?"
She giggled, remembering earlier. "I'm simply impressed by Sylvie's devotion to the job, that's all," she replied primly.
"Fuck you, Bennet."
Elizabeth laughed. "Is there anything else you needed to talk about other then comparing the merits of our new employees?"
"Yeah, tell me about the interview tomorrow."
Elizabeth went over the schedule, as well as the talking points they had worked out. "That's good," Alex said. "Don't be afraid to let lover boy take the lead on this. He's got the reporters' number and they know it."
Elizabeth sighed. "You would think that after you spent the last twenty-four hours in bed with a hot French woman you could use Will's name instead of 'lover boy'."
"You would think that. But, you would be wrong."
"Alex," Elizabeth began.
"Don't worry about it Bennet. Call me tomorrow and tell me how the interview went."
"I will," she agreed. "Say hi to Sylvie for me." She said goodbye and hung up, only to find Darcy standing nearby.
"Everything good?"
"Hmm." Elizabeth pushed her annoyance aside. "Alex is having a torrid love affair with the new web-designer and is gloating from a safe distance."
Darcy gave her a guarded look. "Are you okay with this?" he asked softly.
She brushed the question away, "Oh yeah. He's just enjoying being a pain in the ass." She looked at him closely, trying to understand what he was thinking. "Will? You don't think I'm jealous, do you?"
He didn't reply, but his eyes gave him away. She shook her head and slid into his arms. "I'm not," she said in a low voice.
"It's okay if you are. I understand. You can't help those feelings."
Elizabeth suddenly remembered Amy, his ex-lover and happily married attorney. "Fitzwilliam," she waited until his eyes met hers. "I'm really not jealous. I'm done with Alex, and was before I even met you. If anything, I'm happy to know he's finally with someone." She reflected and smiled. "It was kind of embarrassing being so happy with you and having him be all alone."
He stared intensely into her eyes. That long stare that she now knew meant that he was contemplating something serious. She waited, open and trusting, for him. Finally he drew her close again, their cheeks rubbing softly together. "There are times I don't like having your ex-lover working for us," he admitted softly.
"I know," she answered. "And I respect you all the more that you do it, even when it's not so easy." She smiled, feeling that an equal confession was called for on her part, "There are times I don't like that your whole staff is female."
He nodded. "I keep telling myself I hired them all for virtuous reasons; giving them a break they deserved in a male dominated industry, and while that's true, a part if me did like having them surrounding and caring for me."
Elizabeth reached up and touched his hair, her fingers playing with the curls there, "And now?"
He smiled warmly, stealing her heart away. "Now I have you, and all I want is for all my staff to go away and leave me alone with you." He kissed her gently, "You complete me."
Elizabeth returned his kiss, lingering on the sweetness she found there. "You complete me. Never be jealous, love. No one, no one could compare with you.
They kissed passionately until Wanda walked in on them, exclaiming "Oh!" and turning around immediately. Rachel, who was right behind her, ignored the couple.
"Wanda, you need to get used to that around here. If you stop every time these two are in a clinch, you'll never get anything done." She walked to the embracing couple. "Will, you need to eat now."
Darcy stopped kissing Elizabeth, who, blushing wildly, ducked her head against his chest. "See what I mean?"
Elizabeth nodded, "Yes I do." She gave Darcy one last squeeze and released him. "Rachel, have we got a box for Wanda to see the show?"
Rachel nodded while Wanda looked surprised. "You don't have to do that."
"Actually, I do," Elizabeth replied. "For one reason, it's tour policy, so enjoy it, and two, it's important that you know what the show looks like. As much as I like to think otherwise, it is the whole point of the tour." She smiled, "Rachel will watch with you and I'll join you after our set is over."
"You just want the spread," Rachel joked.
"Hell yes. Save me some of those smoked salmon canapés."
********** Charlotte watched Richard pick at his food while she ate. He had been subdued all day, and she had accepted this, staying nearby because it seemed to comfort him, and keeping their conversations light and meaningless. Yet she could see he was becoming more agitated by the hour.
Having enough, she took his hand firmly in her own, forcing him to look at her. "We can skip the meet & greet."
She could see his thoughts come to a stop. "I know, but I don't want too."
"Richard, don't go forcing yourself to do something you aren't ready for. It's not worth it."
"What about getting back up on the horse?"
"Bullshit. You don't get on the horse until your concussion is healed. This isn't some kind of contest, Richard."
He stopped and put his plate down. "You don't let me get away with anything, do you?"
"I'm kind of committed to the outcome here," she replied dryly. He nodded and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, studying them. She wanted to tell him he was pushing himself too hard, that he was using the meet & greet to get a rush, but she stopped herself, knowing that they both knew that, and that nagging wasn't what he needed. It was a test of her will to keep silent, but she was determined.
"Okay, how about this: we meet after make up and talk," he said finally.
"And then?"
"And then we'll decide together."
She smiled and kissed him, showing her approval. "I love you," she whispered for his ears only.
He relaxed for the first time in hours and pulled her closer, kissing her, seducing her mouth and expressing his admiration and devotion at the same time.
Charlotte answered him fully, taking pleasure in the feel of his strong arms around her slender body. She still marveled at the way he touched her, arousing her like no one else ever had. Perhaps it was because she knew their bond was so delicate, or because she had been denied his love for so long, that made it so much sweeter and more desirable. All she knew is that his kiss made her dizzy and her knees weak.
He released her, and she could see the struggle in his eyes. "Come on," he said finally as his self control won. "You go to wardrobe, me to makeup, and we'll meet in a half hour." Charlotte nodded and together they left dinner.
Fifteen minutes later, she sat in Sarah's chair, surveying her appearance in the mirror. She felt like the person there was no longer the real her, and she was bothered by the incongruity of it. She stopped Sarah as he picked up his scissors. "I think I want to change my look," she said uncertainly. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Sarah smiled brightly, flexing his long fingers. "Oh, Honey, I thought you would never ask!"
She found Richard twenty minutes later in his dressing room. She could tell by his posture and breathing that he was meditating as he sat silently on the couch. She waited, looking at herself in the large mirror that covered one wall, and thinking about the changes she had planned.
A minute later, Richard opened his eyes and looked up at her. At her smile, he opened his arms to her and she placed herself on his lap. His arms folded around her like a cocoon and they settled together.
Charlotte was pleased to find him like this. She could tell that he was really working for her, and what was more, she could see it was helping. She traced the lines of the tattoo on his chest, as she felt him doing the same to the new one on her left arm.
He had begged her not to get anything with his name or Slurry, fearing that their relationship wasn't permanent enough yet and not wanting her to be stuck with a tattoo she would regret. She promised not to get his name or the band's, but instead surprised him with a heart with the Fitzwilliam crest inside of it, during their last break. It was a ballsy move; completely Charlotte, and he had to admit, despite his reservations, it was now his favorite of all the designs covering her lovely skin.
They were content to hold each other, touching and being touched for a long while, and Charlotte was impressed at how they could slow each other down. When his breathing changed, she lifted her head and met his eyes.
"Well?"
"Well?"
"I think I want to do the meet & greet. But I'd like to stand next to you."
She tilted her head, waiting for him to say more. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, just beside the flashing diamond there. "Please?"
"You don't have to do this," she offered softly.
"I know, but it's what I want. I need to," he paused, putting his thoughts in order, "I need to see if I can make this work. This career."
"So you are testing yourself?"
He nodded. "Carefully, I'm not setting myself up for failure or anything, but if I can't do this, I need to know."
"And then what?"
He looked away for a moment. "And then, we ask some hard questions."
She was satisfied that he had said 'we'. "Okay," she said with a note of finality in her voice. "Then I guess we'll do the meet & greet tonight." She stretched and felt his large hands covering her body as she moved. "By the way, I'm going to go shopping tomorrow morning before the shoot. I want to get a new look."
He was too busy happily undoing her blouse and kissing his way across her skin to reply.
********** Charlotte was watching Slurry perform their encores at the backstage monitors, when Elizabeth and Jane drew close to her. "Where's Wanda?"
"Rachel took her off to do what ever PAs do after the show," Elizabeth answered, her eyes on the screens. "They're playing well tonight."
Charlotte nodded, "It's the stress."
Elizabeth nodded, "When other bands are stressed, they get drunk and play like shit. Our boys," she gestured to the monitors, "They tear up the stage and spit it out in chunks."
Charlotte agreed. "Better then getting drunk."
The ladies turned as Slurry came off stage and right to them. Their bodies were hard and sweaty from exertion, the dim lighting of backstage glinting off their carved muscles.
They carried the energy of the show into the embraces they shared with their partners, as they kissed in the shadows. A sense of euphoria filled them from the success of the show, combined with the knowledge that they had the next two nights off. The energy was picked up, like a virus, and spread to the staff and crew. The tour was shutting down for two nights, and it was time to kick back and celebrate.
**** That night, she snuggled close to him, pressing her bare skin against his warmth. She reached back to scratch an itch on her back, but before she could reach it, he was there, scratching it for her, and Charlotte found it peculiarly comforting.
"So," she asked, "How do you think you did tonight?"
Richard took a moment to evaluate himself. "I'm doing good," he said slowly. "At least, I feel good. What do you think?"
"I think you were great. We're good. You handled the greet & meet like a pro."
"That would probably be because I am a professional musician." His voice held a mock seriousness to it, that made Charlotte laugh. She didn't say anything for a long while and that troubled him; it was so unlike her.
"Char?" His voice was rough with concern, "What's going on in your head?"
Charlotte was startled. "No-nothing."
"Charlotte," he began slowly, "Baby, I was thinking about today, and you have hardly said a world all day. That's not like you, and I want to know what's going on. You said we were good."
"We are good. I feel very good about you and our relationship."
Richard was silent for a moment. "But?"
When Charlotte said nothing, he opened his eyes and pulled back enough that he could see her face clearly. "Char, talk to me."
Charlotte looked away, unable to maintain his gaze. "It's the interview."
"What about it?"
"I'm not sure I feel comfortable with it." She looked at him, and his expression urged her to continue. She lifted her chin and looked away. "I just worry I'm going to look like a fool, or something worse."
He stroked her arm, and asked, "Why do you think you're going to look like a fool?"
Charlotte sighed irritably. "Look Richard, it's no secret that hundreds of women have had you. Now I'm coming along, and going to boldly claim I've taken you off the market?" She snorted derisively. "Riiiiight; that's why I'm going to look like a fool, and that's ignoring the nice people who are going to say I'm only doing it for the money, like your mother."
He pulled her closer, trying to soothe her with his touch. "Char, help me to understand: how this is any different from the new tattoo?"
Charlotte looked at him with sad eyes. "The tattoo is permanent, yes, but only you, me, and a handful of other people know what it means. This article, it's going to be read by hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of people."
"We can pull out. It's not too late."
"No we can't. This was your idea in the first place. And if it helps you to heal, then I'll do-"
"NO!" He startled her. "No Charlotte! No way! I know you. You have no problem sacrificing yourself for the good of the team. I remember that worm Collins, and I'm not doing that to you. I love you, Charlotte!" He paused and stared into her eyes. "And if that means we don't do the interview, then we don't! Jane and Charles can do it and that will be enough."
Charlotte buried her head against his shoulder, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her, trying to make sense of her feelings: gratitude that Richard would protect her and put her first, anger that she was even in this situation, embarrassed for having such worries.
Richard held her close, and rocked her, feeling her tears on his skin. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Char, I shouldn't have yelled. I just get so mad at the idea of anything hurting you, especially when it's me." He kissed her hair gently, and took a deep breath. "Let's work this out, Char, okay?"
Charlotte nodded, and cracked a weak, watery smile. "I hate crying in front of you. I know it makes you nuts."
He frowned in concern. "Have you been hiding your feelings from me?"
She bit her bottom lip, thinking, "Not so much hiding, I just try really hard not to cry in front of you." She flashed a self-derisive grin, "I figured you can't stand weepy women."
"Stop that."
"But-"
"I despise weepy women, but not you. I want you to cry anytime and every time you feel like it, Charlotte. And I want to hold you and comfort you and be strong for you every time you need it. You have been there for me, every time, never breaking down, and God knows, I've needed it, but you need it too, and I'm here for you." He grabbed her left hand, intertwining their fingers and showing her the ring there, "That's what this means, it means I'm there for you, just like you are here for me."
It was too much, and Charlotte lowered her head again, as a fresh batch of tears overcame her. Richard rubbed her back, whispering soft words, and in general hating himself for not being perfect for her. He realized, as her crying slowed and stopped, that he was being too hard on himself, and that Charlotte would kick his ass if she knew what he was thinking.
He resolved to be productive and gently pulled Charlotte into his lap, so he could see her face, in the false twilight of the city. "So, let's figure this out; should we cancel tomorrow?"
Charlotte saw what he was trying to do, and pulling herself together, said, "Tell me exactly why you want to do the interview?"
As he explained that it would strengthen the story if all three couples came out, and that it would help decrease the amount of women hitting on him, Charlotte stroked his chest, letting her fingertips move mindlessly over his skin.
"You know, it's going to be your fault if I'm drooling and slathering over you," he committed dryly.
Charlotte noticed with a start that she had been circling his nipples without being aware of it. "Oh! Sorry."
"No sorries, if that's what you need, I'm always willing to help out," he replied with a rakish smile as he lay back in the bed.
She scooted up to rest on his rib cage and looked at him, "Do you really think it will help with women hitting on you? They seem pretty determined, and this may only make you more attractive a prize."
"No; if they are that aggressive, it turns me off right away."
Charlotte looked skeptical, as she lowered her chin to his chest and lightly touched her tongue to the skin there. "Cindy was pretty aggressive, and she didn't seem to be turning you off."
Richard laughed. "Sweetheart, you have no idea. Cindy was a creampuff compared to the women I'm talking about. Trust me, I wouldn't have them on a gift."
She pursed her lips, as Richard's metaphor didn't quite work, but she pushed on. "So, that's why you want to do the interview?"
"Those are the main reasons," he said softly. "The other reason is that I'm really, really proud to have you."
"Really?" Charlotte croaked, her throat tight.
"Really. There are many women who have been here," he took her hand and indicated his erection, "but only one other woman has ever gotten here." He pressed her hand over his heart. "And no one has ever, ever meant as much to me as you do. You're the person I want to spend my life with, you're a part of me." He kissed her hand and then her lips, moving so their bodies were touching their whole length.
She felt a flash of annoyance throught his kiss, "I'm sure she'll have something to say about this interview," she said cattily.
"Ellen?"
Charlotte snarled.
"Char!?! You're jealous!" he said in amazement.
"You're talking about another woman you admit to loving in my bed. What do you expect? A cheer?"
He smiled, amused in spite of himself. "I'm sorry, I've just never seen you jealous before." Charlotte made to roll away, but he blocked her with his body. "Oh no. Don't leave yet. Ellen is perhaps the only person who could understand and respect you half as much as I do. She's no threat to you, Charlotte." He shrugged. "Hell, you might want to meet her sometime."
"Richard!"
"I'm serious. Listen to me; Ellen and I did fall in love with each other, and she is still very special to me, but when push came to shove, and my alcoholism became a problem, she couldn't take it. She didn't want to be a part of it, and I respected her decision. She wasn't strong enough for it." He grabbed Charlotte's still thrashing shoulders, stopping her movement, "Not like you! Charlotte, I do know you have a choice, and I do know, and never forget, that there are a thousand better, easier men out there for you. That's why I'm working so hard on this, because I want it! I want you!"
He stopped for a moment, to gather his thoughts. "I know I keep saying the same thing over and over again, but I can't help it. I love you, and I will do everything I can for you."
Charlotte held his eyes for a long time, and then said, "So kiss me."
He did, and it was like his reins had snapped. Suddenly he could not get enough of her taste. He feasted on her mouth, then moved down her neck: licking, tasting, blowing, teasing until her body grew tight with desire.
"The interview?" she asked through the deepening haze.
He paused at the nipple he was worshipping, "Your call. I don't care either way. You're mine, and I don't care who knows about it!" He returned to sucking her nipple hard into his mouth, and she arched up to him, her hands wrapping around his head, pulling him tighter, as he growled, "You're mine, mine!" into the darkness.
********** Jane Bennet woke up in her hotel room and looked out the window. From her bed, she looked to the west, where a hundred miles or so away, the ocean was waiting for her. She could feel it, in her blood, calling to her. The soft light told her it was still early. Charles was curled beside her, his head pillowed on her shoulder, careful even in his sleep to avoid her tender breasts.
Jane took the moment of solitude to reflect, her eyes fixed on the window while her mind reviewed where they were and what they would be doing.
'They,' she thought. It was no longer 'her'. It was now firmly 'they'. She smiled, even as she felt a tinge of sadness. She welcomed the babies growing inside her body, but that the same time, she recognized that she was facing the end of one phase of her life. Not that she resented the change in any way. She was excited about it, and in a strange way, felt she would now have more freedom then ever before. She would still be a caregiver, something she had always been, but now it would be to her own children, something she would be respected for doing, as opposed to all the care giving and nurturing she had to do for her parents and younger siblings. Then she was never recognized beyond bland phrases, like: 'Jane's such a good girl to help out like that'. The words made her feel vaguely sick, but she really couldn't tell if that was just morning sickness.
Jane found she wanted something; it was an unusual feeling for her, so she paid close attention to it. She wanted the ocean. She wanted the west coast and all it represented. She wanted the beauty and the novelty of it, and God help her, she wanted the distance from her mother.
'How strange,' she thought. She had objected, from her heart, to the idea of getting married away from her family, but she strongly wanted to raise her children there.
During the time she had been in Charles' California home she found a happiness she had never known before. She had assumed that it was due to the bond she had created with Charles, but now she realized it was more: it was freedom. For the first time, she had been free of her responsibilities to be a good daughter and sister. She was free of the 'Bennet' label. No one knew her or her family, only Charles. She smiled as she thought his name. She had been so happy, being alone with him, in the house she knew she would spend the rest of her life in, where she would raise her children in. And now she felt an overwhelming sense of homesickness.
She rolled to her side, to find comfort from Charles, and was pleased to see his eyes open.
"What's wrong, honey?" he asked softly, seeing her distress.
"Charles, I want to go home."
"To New York?" he frowned.
"No, to Muir Beach."
"Jane?" he was trying to calm his heart. He was surprised that she wanted to go to his home; that she had accepted it as their home.
"If we leave right after the interview, how long would it take to get there?"
"I don't know. It's a long drive."
"I meant if we flew."
Charles eyes widened. "You really do want to go home."
Jane nodded. "Yes, I need to go there. I want to show the twins our ocean and be in our place."
Charles chuckled softly, "Darling, the twins were probably conceived by 'our' ocean, but if you want, we'll certainly go home. " He took in her look of relief. "Do you want to fly back tomorrow, or we could just fly to Seattle on Wednesday. "
Jane curled close to his warmth. "Let's fly back on Wednesday."
Charles agreed, still somewhat puzzled by her request. He suspected it had something to do with the interview today. Jane was still very uncomfortable about sharing her thoughts and feelings with strangers; that was why she wrote songs. He also wondered if the pregnancy, and learning she was carrying twins, had anything to do with it. But no matter the reason, he had learned enough about Jane's impulsiveness, combined with the rarity with which she asked for anything, that he dared not refuse her.
Not that he wanted to. He smiled into her hair, feeling such joy he couldn't express it: she now thought of Muir Beach as her home. His home, that which meant so much to him, that was a base of everything he did, she had now made her own. He felt like the sun was shining just on him, and everything was coming together. He was glad he could provide her with a home that she clearly loved, and he felt pride mingled with relief that he was being a good husband (to-be), as he swore to himself that he would be a good father. He hoped it would make him a better son.