Immediately, Eric's face drained of color. "You mean you'd… to someone else… no! I won't have it!"
Donna sat beside him on the bed and held his hand sweetly. "Of course not. Never. That's just for you. You know, like that card you gave me—any time, any place, any way, only you. I would handle clerical duties, to take some of the load off her. That's all, babe."
Eric took a deep breath and said nothing, but he looked calmer.
Donna laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember the night you proposed? At that little Italian restaurant?"
The memory threw them both into a fit of chuckling. Eric had made reservations at a quaint bed and breakfast—so quaint and old that the walls were paper thin. On top of that, the inn was full of other guests they decided didn't need to wonder about the whip sounds or athletic lovemaking that was their norm. Their weekend had not been nearly as active as they would have preferred, but the proposal made their quite different kind of restraint that weekend all worthwhile.
Donna continued when she could catch her breath. "I told you then, remember? My toast? 'To the man of my dreams, the yin to my yang, the Dom to my sub and the sub to my Domme. May you always, always be in my life.'"
"I remember," Eric said softly. "If you want to work at the club, I don't mind. But just while I'm away, I hope."
Donna got up to turn out the light. Tonight, all she wanted was a snuggle and some sleep; she had a feeling that would be fine with Eric. She grinned in the darkness as she slithered between the sheets and curled up next to him, rolling her eyes. He had started wearing boxers and a t-shirt to bed, for some reason. Maybe he was just too tired to finish undressing. She pressed her firm breasts into his back, in case he still had any energy or desire.
"'Night," he mumbled.
Donna turned over and lay awake, wondering what an entire life with Eric would be like. It was what she wanted, but she'd seen little evidence of happy marriages in the past. Her mother had left when she was six, dying of an overdose a few years later. She'd chosen addiction rather than taking care of her daughter and husband. Donna's father had been ill-equipped for raising a daughter; that was certain. She moved those memories to another place in her mind—a bleak place—where she wouldn't have to face them now.
Jessica and Worth seem to really have it together, she mused. So did Carol and Chet and Chet's kids. Skip and Paul even, seemed quite content and happy. For all her bravado, though, Donna had doubts. Not so much about Eric's love and commitment, but about her ability to communicate what she wanted and needed from him. Quoting Scarlett O'Hara, she mumbled, "I'll think about that tomorrow," and fell asleep.
Sometime during the night, though, Donna sat bolt upright in bed with a loud scream, waking Eric. "What is it?" he cried, wrapping his arms tightly around her.
Donna was shaking, damp with perspiration. The dream had been so real, but now she could only remember snatches of the horror. "A man, Eric. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he wanted to do something terrible. I was running, trying to get away…" In spite of the dream, she suddenly snorted. "Good grief!"
Eric was confused. "What?"
Donna shook her head in the pre-dawn light of a bright moon outside her window. "I went to sleep thinking of Scarlett O'Hara and then dreamed that whole scene in Gone with the Wind where she's running in the mist. That's all it was. I'm sorry I woke you."
The two settled back into the bed. Eric was asleep within seconds, but Donna lay awake, trying to remember more of the dream's details. A man peering around a corner, but who? Donna closed her eyes and forced herself to think of kittens. And the beach. And kittens at the beach.
5
Bride and Groom Day
It was a lovely Saturday afternoon. Autumn's paintbrush had outdone itself in the trees around the wedding chapel. A small gathering sat on the navy cushioned pews while a four-piece flute ensemble entertained them. Mr. and Mrs. Worth Vincent held hands as they waited. On the front row, where a bride's family would usually sit, Jessica's mother Carol and her brand new husband Chet had, at Donna's request, the place of honor. The Hendersons had also invited the new couple and guests to enjoy a light buffet at their condo after the ceremony.
At one o'clock sharp, the flute choir began the familiar strains of Pachelbel's Canon as Eric and Donna walked down the aisle together toward the front.
Jessica caught Donna's eye as she approached and smiled at her friend, mouthing the words "beautiful." It was true. Donna's blonde curls were golden in the sunlight streaming through the windows of the chapel.
She had been thrilled when Jessica presented her with a gown she'd purchased at a boutique in Abu Dhabi as a wedding present. Off-white, with a lace bodice and three-quarter length sleeves, the dress's simple lines were flattering to Donna's slim figure, and Jessica had guessed exactly right about the size. The hem reached just to her ankles, revealing boots of softest cream leather. Rather than a veil, she had a wreath of white flowers in her hair and carried a simple bouquet.
Eric's hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail that accentuated his bushy red beard. Handsome, in a navy suit, he was obviously pleased by the turn-out, nodding at friends. When his eye caught Jessica's, he made a "yikes" face—they'd never even talked about marriage, not seriously, yet here he was, just a few weeks after Jessica and Worth had tied the knot. Jessica gave him a little salute and a wink to signify her approval.
The quartet's music faded
