BABY FOR MY HONEY

HER WORLD

CHAPTER 5

On our way to the hangar the next day, Devlin told me in an icy-cold tone that he would not be able to visit for a month. He said it in a way I very much doubt it was work-related or he was getting tired of crossing the distance; even worse was he getting tired of me, but I erased the latter in my mind.

I was tongue-tied for a few minutes, fearing the inevitable. I knew very well this moment would come.

Devlin rolled up the window separating the car's rear and driver's sides to give us privacy.

“You heard me, right?” he asked, maintaining the same tone and with a hard-to-read expression on his face.

I breathed profoundly first and slowly exhaled the air through my mouth. I moved to close the distance between us. I looked up to see Devlin's face more clearly as I suggested, “How about I travel to SoCal to see you?” I held his gaze. I made my tone softer, believing that I could get his attention whenever I spoke in this manner.

I thought I saw an amused expression cross his face for a few seconds, but it changed quickly. It could merely be a figment of my imagination.

Devlin narrowed his eyebrows and turned his gaze in another direction, avoiding my eyes.

“As you wish. Should I send the plane?” he uttered.

The corners of my mouth curved slightly despite an effort not to show how pleased I was. Not that I didn't want to smile, but because Devlin might take it in a different way than intended, “No need–. I will book a commercial flight. Just tell me when it's more practical to go there.”

Days with him were always like this. I needed to guard my emotions and words spoken as much as possible. I didn’t want to complicate matters with us any further. Devlin and I could now communicate without an argument, and I wanted it to stay that way.

Was I even tired?

Of course, it was exhausting and exhilarating, but it was the only way to progress. It was the only way I could reach his innermost thoughts, and it was the only way to keep him.

I was acting like a mistress, a kept woman. Was I aware of that? Absolutely yes, a coy mistress–not a wife.

Wife-- I didn’t know when I could ever claim that title again, even if we were still married. Devlin might not like it, and he was living in SoCal like a bachelor, which could cause complications when the public knew he was committed. But--It didn’t matter to me, as long as Devlin would not file a divorce, invalidating our marriage.

“Fine," he breathed, "I am hard-pressed on a new partnership. I have a crazy schedule. Three days off work will not be possible.” He uttered in a softer voice and he placed his arm on my back to pull me closer to him.

I didn’t expect him to explain why he couldn’t travel. I was pleasantly surprised though when he did, and even more so when he circled his arms around me to give me a gentle kiss on my lips. It had been so long since he kissed me like this, so long I had almost forgotten how sensual this kind of kiss was.

His lips brushed on mine in featherweight softness as we exchanged the air we breathed. His kisses tingled my senses, and they made me shiver down my spine. Waves and waves of electrifying current flowed in my blood and veins, and I thought I would never experience being kissed by him like this ever again.

A few minutes later, we reached our destination. The car halted at the hangar where his plane was waiting for him to arrive. His crew was standing in front of the stairs, and the aircraft had been readied. He would be flying back to California, furthering our distance once again.

“See you in two weeks?” I asked as he touched my lips to brush away the remnants of his kiss.

He looked into my eyes, still expressionless, but he nodded and opened the car door at his side.

Before he stepped down, he murmured, “Don’t book a flight. I will send you the plane. Can you make it from Friday to Sunday?”

The weekend-- he knew the importance of my weekends with my parents.

I couldn't answer right away. I simply gazed at him. I never skipped a weekend without seeing my parents—anything I would give up for Devlin, but not my weekends.

He exhaled with slight irritation but I knew he understood my silence, “Fine, Thursday to Saturday then?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Yeah, sure. But Saturday morning, please.” I appealed. If I leave LA early in the morning, I could still see my parents in the late afternoon or evening of Saturday–still the weekend.

“Alright,” He kissed me one last time before he stepped out of the car. He moved away without turning back. I saw him climb the steps of his private jet, followed by his crew. We stayed inside the car until I could no longer see his form.

“Where to, ma’am?” Joey, Devlin’s driver, asked me politely.

“Yorkville, please,” I replied.

“Alright, ma’am, your parent's home?” He asked again with a polite smile on his face. I saw his reflection in the mirror as our eyes met.

“Yes–Please.” I softly replied.

We left the hangar before Devlin’s plane left, and I silently let the driver, Joey, drive the distance of at least an hour to my parent's home.

Joey knew the address as he always drove me there whenever I didn’t have a car with me. I could have quickly asked Mario, my driver, to pick me up earlier, but Devlin requested or rather ordered me to see him off as he never says please. I didn’t bother to ask Mario, as I knew Devlin had already made arrangements. It was better this way. I gave in to his orders to avoid arguments.

It was not because Devlin and I argued so much. I learned to give way, and so did he sometimes. He mellowed over the year–his anger slowly diminishing each time we met. I hope I was right in my assessment, just a bit more time, and perhaps I could win back his trust, which was why I couldn’t let two weeks pass without us seeing each other.

A few more minutes passed by and I found myself in front of the gate of my parent's home.

Our two-story home was my parents' best investment: the property, built-in 2,000 sq. meters of land inside an exclusive subdivision in Yorkville. The houses were far apart, but everyone here knew each other–it remained a safe community.

Growing up, we were comfortable, although we couldn’t be classified as rich. We didn’t own a business. Both my parents belonged to the working class. They have had stable and high-paying jobs, they were able to save money invested in the stock market, so they continue to earn, and now, both of them comfortably retired. They were happy and healthy. I couldn’t wish for more.

“Ma’am, would you like me to drive you up to the porch of your home?” Joey asked. Perhaps he wondered why I never let him drive me past our gated home. I always stepped out of the car in front of our gate, even if it was visible that my parent's home has a driveway in which he could easily maneuver the vehicle, but I’d rather walk the few distances between the gate and our porch.

“I am alright here, Joey,” I opened the door to my side. “Drive safely going back, and thank you,” I said in an even tone.

“All the time, ma’am,” Joey curtly replied.

I stepped down and walked towards the gate, smiling at the guard who opened the gate for me.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he greeted me.

“Hello!” I responded and smiled at him.

After that, I hiked over the driveway and reached our porch in no time. My dad opened the door for me—Douglas Price, a Welsh man through and through. I got my eyes from him. His grey eyes sparkled when he saw me.

“Hello, beautiful darling,” in his familiar welcoming voice and earnest smile, all the more, it made me feel I had reached home.

“How’s the most handsome man I know?” I beamed, giving him one of my genuine smiles. I knew, despite my age, he still looked at me as his little darling, as most parents regard their children, no matter how they age.

“Still the same– still feeling like a teenager,” he stressed the "teenager' word, and he chuckled at his pun, then he stretched his arms to receive me.

I went directly into those strong arms; he remained a very handsome man despite his age.

“Feeling teenager,” I giggled, “but–a dashing middle-aged man, nonetheless,” I kissed him on both cheeks. His familiar scent, the smell I grew up with, still gives me comfort and a good sense of well-being.

“Where’s mom?” I remembered the one more person who made our home bright.

Undeterred by my complicated relationship with Devlin, my parents' marriage never failed to give me hope that someday I could fix our situation and live the remaining days of my life as happy and contented as they appeared.

“She’s on her way home, just fixing with Tita Elisa some last-minute alteration for tomorrow’s event–the big day for the little bundle of joy.” He chuckled.

“Oh, yeah–-point me where I could find him?” I giggled.

“In his room,” he replied.

“I better go there... now.”

“Don’t worry, and I think he's still napping,” he advised.

“I won't create a single sound,” I promised, raising my right hand in the air.

I could still hear his laughter as I had stepped onto the marbled stairs. My dad was such a happy man, and he was a delight to everyone who had been part of his almost 60 years of life.

I tip-toed to avoid creating a sound as I reached the second floor. I opened the door to a room and walked even more slowly, stepping inside and there in front of me, on top of the bed and snuggling a pillow. I found the reason why I couldn’t let go of my marriage with Devlin.

The reason why I made nights like days. The one soul I clung onto during my darkest and loneliest days.

The one life that I made my world–my beloved son DJ.

Daxton James Walton.