Attainment

refurbished apartment is unveiled.

“What are you thinking about?” Alexis says, once again breaking me out of my trip to ‘miles away’.

“Our son. Our home. Our future,” I honestly answer.

“And...?”

I quickly glance at her, curious of her questioning tone.

“And...I have a lot to do. The apartment should be finished in a few weeks and I want it to be perfect before we move back in.”

She reaches over and touches my face. I love her soft touch. “Bryce, it will be. I have no doubt. Please stop worrying about that.”

I release one hand from the steering wheel and take a hold of hers, pressing my lips to her wrist. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” she smiles. “And I love you, too.”

Feeling bold and knowing she is in a very good mood, I broach an off-limits topic. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married sooner? I know you want to wait but—“

“Bryce, we’ve talked about this. You know I can’t wait to be your wife. But after everything that has happened, and with BB on the way, I just think we need to slow down a bit and enjoy the ride.”

“BB?”

“Well...yeah,” she coyly hesitates. Damn, she’s cute. “BB...as in Baby Bryce.” She gently caresses her stomach, filling me with so much fucking love for this woman I can barely breathe.

“Baby Bryce?” I repeat, unable to contain my grin.

“Yes.”

I continue to drive, silence now swirling around us. Every couple of seconds I glance at her, knowing she is watching my reaction.

“You know, Mr Clark...” her tone now lowered, sounding sexy as hell. “When you smile like that it makes me want to climb onto your lap.”

“Hunny, you are a threat to road safety. You really need to get in control of that.”

“Then stop grinning that sex-on-a-stick grin. I just want to lick it.”

“I can’t stop. You have that effect on me.”

“I know. So, it appears we have a predicament.”

“We do.”

She leans over and slides her hand across my thigh, stopping on top of the hard mound in my pants.

“Alexis,” I growl in warning. Bloody hell, she drives me wild.

She gives me a firm squeeze while answering in an innocently sweet voice. “Yes?”

Swallowing heavily, I rein in the serious wood that is forming beneath her hand. “You better start thinking of all the ways you want to be fucked. Because when we get home, we are going to be performing each and every one of them.”

CHAPTER TWO

Experiencing confliction with one’s self, when you think about it, is kind of absurd. But despite that absurdity, we all subject ourselves to this illogical torment at more than one point in our lives. Why? Well, I would probably put it down to stubbornness, or the inability to be unyielding, even if that means you then become at war with yourself.

I’m no stranger to being at war—figuratively speaking—having fought and won many battles in my life. Battles in business, against family, and even against morality. But fighting a battle against one’s self is not a battle you intend on losing. The thing is if you are defeated, then you only have yourself to blame.

* * *

“Bryce, I know this is hard for you. But you have to talk about your feelings of guilt if you ever want to get past them.”

I look up from my seated position. Jessica—my psychologist and family friend—is sitting across from me with her notepad rested on her lap. She has her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a troubled expression on her face. It’s quite obvious to me that her concern is due to the fact that I am not openly discussing what happened with Gareth like she wishes that I would.

We are both sitting in her office which is situated on Burke Street in the CBD of Melbourne. It’s a quaint office, furnished with soft colours, unobtrusive ornaments and feel-good art work, purposefully placed to make her patients feel comfortable, relaxed and, unbeknown to them, unguarded. I have been here many times before and am aware of my deceptive surroundings—they don’t fool me.

“What if I don’t want to get past my guilt? What if I don’t deserve to?” I respond with determination.

“Guilt is felt by not only the guilty, but more so by those who feel they deserve it when in fact, they don’t. Guilt can be a humble yet deceitful emotion.”

“Jessica,” I sigh, deflated and tired as a result of this session’s conflict. “I know you are trying to help. I know you are trying to make me see that Gareth’s death was not my fault. The truth of the matter is...it was. I abandoned him when he really needed me and, on top of that, I nearly lost Alexis in the process. I deserve this guilt. Please, just let me bear it.”

She places her notepad on the seat next to her and removes her glasses. “Gareth’s death was not your fault. If it were then it would be equally mine. Actions have consequences, consequences have results, and sometimes those results are devastating, as in Gareth’s case.”

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair, the pain and memory of my mentally ill cousin’s demise still too brutally raw.

“Bryce, look at me,” Jessica says with a soft but authoritative voice.

I open my eyes and find her gaze.

“I’m going to ask you to think about something and then I want to discuss it next week.”

“Sure,” I respond flippantly with a tinge of arrogance. My intention is not to be an arsehole, after all, she only means well. It’s just, I’m exhausted and want to get home to Alexis and find solace in her warm embrace. Alexis keeps me grounded, she always has and I hope she always will.

“What you’re experiencing is known as ‘unhealthy’ or ‘inappropriate’ guilt. I want you to look at the situation from a different point of view, put someone else in your shoes. Take Lucy for instance. What if it were her? Would you find her just as responsible for Gareth’s death? After all, she too was his cousin. She knew what you knew. She had just as much influence as you—“

“Jessica,” I snap. “Leave Lucy out of this. It—“

“Bryce!” she interrupts just as abruptly as I had. “Just think about what I’m saying and we’ll talk about it next week.”

I stand up, not happy with her request to ‘pretend’ to put Lucy in my place. Gareth’s death had nothing to do with my sister. “Fine, I will see you next week. When is Alexis due to come in next?”

“Alexis and I have arranged monthly visits now. She tends to listen to my advice and not be so sceptical of what you may feel are unorthodox suggestions.”

My eye involuntarily twitches and I clench then release my hand. Bloody hell, she is on a tirade today. “I’m glad to hear my fiance is dealing with the situation and finding a way to put it behind her. The last thing she needs is to feel any stress in her current state, so thank you.”

Jessica stands and makes her way toward her desk. “Well, she is not the only one.”

“Good bye, Jessica,” I respond just as contemptuously.  “I will see you next week.”

“Bryce,” she says not looking up. “You know that despite your stubbornness, your mother would still be proud of you.”

I sigh. “You tell me this every time.”

“Well, it’s true. She would, and you need to hear it.”

I head for the door without looking back and give her the reply that I always do, “Thank you.”  Except this time, I don’t really mean it.