Chapter 16: On His Knees

The only light in the kitchen came off the water through the window over the sink.

Vincent didn't speak when I came in.

He put the torn letter down on the table, squared the two halves, and waited.

"Take off your jacket," I said.

He did.

"The shirt."

He unbuttoned it slowly, because I was watching, and let it fall on the chair.

"Come here," I said. "Stop at arm's length."

He stopped.

"On your knees."

His eyes came up to mine, dark, and for a moment I thought he would refuse.

He went down on the kitchen tile in front of me without a word.

He knelt bare to the waist, with his hands open on his thighs.

My pulse was loud in my ears.

I had not planned this.

I had planned to talk to him.

"Say it," I said. "What you took."

"Antonia."

"All of it. In order."

He looked at my face, and his voice came out low and rough.

"I took your mornings. I took the eleven tests. I held you on the bathroom floor and said next month, and I knew."

I put my fingers in his hair.

"More."

"I took the right to be told. I took the baby you wanted."

"Whose baby was it?"

"Ours. Every morning I wanted it. I wanted it with you in that kitchen, and I put the tablet in your hand."

My fingers closed in his hair, and he let out a sound he would not have made in front of a single man he knew.

"Good," I said. "Now you can touch me."

His hands went up under my skirt and took hold of the back of my thighs.

I felt how they shook.

"Slow," I said. "I decide how fast."

"Yes."

"I haven't decided yet."

He pushed my skirt up around my waist and pressed his mouth to the inside of my knee.

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