An Act of Persuasion - By Stephanie Doyle Page 0,75
first time as she stood next to him and admired his precision, she wrapped her arm around his waist. She could feel him startle and his muscles tighten, but she didn’t let go.
Last week following the furniture shopping, she thought she was ready for sex. But after that moment at her door had passed, she hadn’t followed up on initiating the sex. Anna had assumed Ben would press again and when he did, she was prepared to give in. Perhaps it was silly, but she thought it was important that he initiate it when they did finally have sex again. That way there would be no confusing what was happening between them.
They would both know that he was openly acknowledging he wanted her. Even though he’d said as much to her over these past weeks, his deeds were what counted.
Only, after days went by and there was no move on his part did she start to understand something she’d never realized before. Ben needed something from her, too. He needed to know, maybe as much as she did, that she wanted him, also.
It wasn’t like her to make the first physical gesture. To take his hand first, or kiss him without any prompting. But she was coming to understand that if they ever were going to make it to that next step, she needed to show him how she felt.
He glanced at her and the look on his face was hard to read. Eventually, he relaxed, too, and circled his arm around her, pulling her closer. She leaned her head against his shoulder and she tried to imagine them as a painting. A man with a leveler and a pregnant woman staring at a fantasy that would never be them.
She liked it.
“Hey, lady, we’re done.”
The loud shout from the foyer broke them apart. Anna did a final walk-through with the movers then signed all the necessary paperwork. She had the check ready and a tip in a separate envelope for each of the men, thanking them for all the heavy lifting. Between what had already been delivered by the furniture stores and her personal effects, the house finally felt complete.
She was home. Her home, with her colors and her taste and her stuff and no one could ever make her leave it.
Ben had done this. He’d given this to her. Not a possession, or a property but, instead, a lifetime of security.
She could feel the tears coming and tried some shallow breaths to stop them.
“Oh, no. Here she goes,” Ben muttered to Mark. “Turns out she’s a pregnant crier.”
In retaliation Anna offered him a discreet view of a particular finger centered on her hand.
Mark chuckled. “There are worse things. See you two later. I’m having dinner with Sophie and her grandparents.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ll need it. Last time I had dinner with them I got her to speak five words. But only two of those were together. This time I’m going for a record-breaking ten. Maybe even a full sentence.”
Anna wiped her eyes as Mark left and suddenly the house, which had been a beehive of activity all day, was still.
“I can’t believe it’s done,” she said, joining Ben once more in the living room. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“You’ve spent the past few weeks doing nothing but getting ready for this day. I imagine you’re allowed a sniffle or two.”
“You’re so generous. Want a final tour?”
“Of course.”
She held out her hand and he took it, giving hers a gentle squeeze. She walked him through each room and talked about the colors she’d chosen and what she was trying to accomplish with the furniture. All her dishes and knickknacks were still in boxes, but she had everything labeled and waiting in the appropriate room to be unpacked. It shouldn’t take her more than a day to have all that work done.
She led him upstairs and took him to the nursery first. She hadn’t yet decided on a crib, but she had found a soft rocking chair that looked like it had been swallowed in pretty soft green pillows.
Sitting in the chair she rubbed her belly as she pushed her foot against the floor. “I mean I know all those old-fashioned rocking chairs look great, but let’s face it, they’re not very comfortable. If I’m dealing with the fact that this kid will wake me up in the middle of the night, I should at least be comfortable while I’m feeding it, right?”