Author Anonymous: A True Story

  I unzip the suitcase and toss my dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

  “What’s going on?” Landon questions when he walks into the closet.

  I throw another wad of clothes into the basket and then straighten myself, planting my hands on my hips. “You couldn’t have tried to clean up before I got home?” My voice is belittling, I know. But I’m tired, hungover, and battling a piercing headache.

  “By the time I got the girls to bed, I was drained.”

  “You look pretty damn relaxed if you ask me. Here it is, midnight, and you’re chilling in front of the television when you knew I’d be dead to the world when I got home,” I nag, sounding like the acerbic housewife I swore I’d never be. “And now, instead of going to bed, I have to clean that shit up.”

  Landon’s face hardens and his words are clipped when he bites back at my sour mood. “I’ll clean it in the morning.”

  “I don’t want to wake up to that mess.”

  “Then I’ll clean it before you get up. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that this place was clean when I left, and I shouldn’t have to come home to a mess after a long weekend.”

  “I wish I had your life, Tor. No, really, I do. It must be rough to have to leave your family for a couple days to party it up in Vegas.”

  His pugnacious mood rankles my nerves even more. “I can’t help that my job looks different than yours, but don’t you dare forget that it is indeed a job that affords us the lifestyle we have.” I immediately regret the low blow I just served him, but before I can apologize, he throws the animosity right back at me.

  “And who afforded you the luxury to discover this new career of yours? Don’t forget I solely supported this family for years while you stayed at home and didn’t work. I bust my fucking ass for you and the girls,” he snaps. “But you don’t see that because you’re blinded by a few dirty dishes in the goddamn sink.”

  “I never said you didn’t bust your ass at work.”

  “Dammit, Tori. I’ve been killing myself working all these extra hours. Cut me a little slack.”

  We come to a deadlock as we both stand and glare at each other. These spats aren’t out of the norm for us when we are both drained. Landon hates fighting—I do too—but I also think it’s normal for couples who have been together as long as we have to get into arguments. At least that’s what I tell myself: that we are just like everyone else.

  “Welcome home, dear. I’m going to bed,” he says listlessly before turning his back to me and walking to the bedroom.

  I let go of a heavy sigh wrapped in disappointment. All I wanted was to come home to a clean house and happy husband—you know what I mean, the fantasy we create in our minds, and when it doesn’t go our way, we are left with the disillusionment of reality.

  I slip on a pair of pajamas and leave my suitcase lying open in the middle of the closet when I go upstairs to check on the girls. I walk into Emily’s room where she’s wriggled her way down beneath her blanket. I pull it back and give her a kiss on the forehead. My little four-year-old baby is growing so fast. Faster than what I’m ready for. I stroke my fingers through her blonde hair and give her one more kiss.

  When I walk into Jill’s room, my big first grader, I sit on the edge of her bed and stare down at my first born. Her face is thinning out of the rounded baby cheeks she once had. My little lady won’t even let me call her my baby anymore. I think back to the day this angel pie made me a mommy for the first time.

  “Landon,” I call out from the bathtub where I’ve been soaking for the past hour. “I need help.”

  “Coming.”

  I’m two days overdue and beyond the point of wanting to die. Every bone and tendon in my body is constantly on fire with pain. I’ve been spending most of my time trying to soothe the aches, but the warm water only attempts to assuage.

  “Are you feeling any better?” Landon asks when he walks into the bathroom.

  “I feel like it’s getting worse. It’s all through my back.”

  He reaches down, and I grab on to him as he helps me to my feet. I wait for him to hand me a towel, and when I start drying off, I notice him staring at my body.

  “What?”

  “You want me to clean you up down there?”

  I follow his eyes, which are zoned between my legs, and huff, “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “Come on, babe.”

  “I gave up shaving down there two weeks ago.”

  He laughs. “I can tell.”

  “Don’t be an ass.”

  I wrap the towel around my chest and hold Landon’s hand as he helps me step out of the tub, all the while, finding humor in the fact that my lady parts have gone National Geographic.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve teasing me when I’m this hormonal,” I tell him as I give his ribs a jab, and when I do, I instantly feel a weird pop in my belly.

  “Oh, shit!”

  “What?”

  With a look of shock on his face, Landon steps back from me. “I think you pissed yourself, babe.”

  As if this pregnancy hasn’t robbed my sex appeal enough. But when I look down at the puddle of fluid I’m standing in, I realize it’s not pee.

  “I think my water just broke.”

  Landon’s face drops, and I’ve never seen such alarm in his eyes.

  “Landon?” He doesn’t respond as he stares at me. “Are you okay?”

  In a flash, he jumps into motion like a maniac and rushes out of the bathroom, leaving me standing here, dripping wet, wearing only a towel.

  “Holy shit. Shit. Shit.” He continues to ramble incoherent obscenities as he runs around the house.

  I hear drawers opening and closing, along with cabinets and doors, and I have no clue what the hell he is doing. I proceed to drop my towel and grab a couple more to soak up the mess on the floor. I then do my best to clean myself up before slipping on a pair of underwear.

  Landon then zips through the bathroom in a mild panic. “Where the hell is the hospital bag?”

  “It’s in the closet, and can you please calm down?”

  He turns to face me, and nearly yells, “You’re having a baby!” as if I had no clue. He then freezes for a second before grabbing my face and elating with utter joy, “We’re having a baby!” He wraps his arms around me, radiating with excitement, and when he draws back, I look into the eyes of my husband who’s about to become a daddy.

  “I’m scared,” I admit. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

  He cups my cheeks and dips his head so he can meet my eyes straight on and assures, “You’ve got this. You’re the strongest woman I know, and I have no doubts you’re going to kick this motherhood gig in the ass.”

  “Promise me something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Promise me we won’t become those cliché parents who wear cheesy matching outfits for family portraits.”

  “Those people make me sick, you know that.”

  “One more thing,” I say as I stand in front of him with only a pair of panties on and my belly nudging up against his toned abs. “Promise me you won’t change the way you look at me.”

  “I’ll never look at you and not be reminded of how lucky I am to have you. You’re so damn sexy, and your being a mom isn’t going to change that. I love you most and more,” he tells me intently. “Now come on and get dressed.”

  Our sweet moment quickly evaporates as Landon tosses clothes at me to put on. I move as quickly as I can, but not quick enough for my husband as he runs circles around me and texts family that the baby is on its way.

  By the time he fastens my seatbelt, the pain wrapping around my back begins to intensify. My hand flies to Landon’s, and I squeeze tightly.

  “You okay?”

  “Mmm mmm,” I sound through my lips as I try to hold my breath.

  “Don’t hold your breath; it’ll only make the pain worse.”

  I trust him and take in a deep breath through my nos
e and release it through my mouth. I do this three or four times before I tell him, “Call Brooke.”

  “I already did. She’s meeting us at the hospital.”

  Landon keeps his hand locked to mine as he weaves through traffic. I close my eyes and try to focus on anything besides my back pain. Soon enough, we arrive at the hospital and are placed in a delivery room. The nurses hook me up to the monitors, and as much as I don’t want to be pregnant anymore, the fear of how this baby is going to change our world scares me. It’s only ever been me and Landon. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like with three of us.

  “I got here as soon as I could,” Brooke announces when she barges into the room, but I’m in too much pain to talk.

  She goes to Landon, allowing me time to breathe through the contraction that just hit me.

  “How are you doing?” she asks him after giving him a hug.

  “Anxious. The nurses just checked her and she’s dilated to five already.”

  “Do you need anything? I can grab you a coffee or something.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine,” he tells her. “Where’s Chris?”

  “He’s stuck in a meeting. He said he’ll call as soon as he’s free.”

  A wave of nausea hits hard. “Landon, something doesn’t feel right.”

  I grab my belly and tears spring from my eyes as a blast of pain shoots through my stomach. I’m loud when I scream out, and he takes my hand in his.

  “It’s okay,” Brooke soothes as she stands on my other side and places a cold washcloth on my forehead.

  Landon calls the nurse, and when she comes into the room, I cry out, “Please, stop the pain.”

  She quickly checks me, and when I look down at her from between my legs, she gives me the worst news ever. “Too late for an epidural, dear. You’re ready to start pushing.”

  Fear ignites like a wild fire in my chest, and I panic. “Landon, I can’t do this without an epidural. Please, do something.”

  His face mirrors mine when he looks up, and then I hear Brooke hollering at one of the nurses that is now in my room.

  “You need to call the anesthesiologist now. There is no way she’s having that baby without drugs.”

  “Your friend doesn’t have a choice.”

  “Oh, God! I need to push,” I cry.

  Everything moves in hypervelocity as I grab on to my husband. He’s right by my side, kissing my head and repeating over and over how much he loves me. In a whirlwind, the doctor rushes in. Brooke holds my one leg as a nurse holds the other, and with Landon’s forehead pressed against mine, I bear down and push through the scorching pain, screaming with tears falling down my face.

  It all happens so fast, and now, as I lie in the hospital bed, I look over to Landon who’s holding our baby girl. He looks familiar and different at the same time, and it’s astounding. Before my eyes, I watch my loving husband change into an adoring daddy. She’s wrapped in a soft pink blanket, bundled up and snug in Landon’s strong arms. I see him soften instantly as he looks down at our daughter and runs the tip of his nose over her forehead, and when he looks at me, his eyes are rimmed in teary joy.

  He joins me on the bed and settles baby Jill into my arms. “I can’t stop looking at her.”

  “It seems like a dream,” I tell him. “How is it possible that we were able to make something so perfect?”

  “Because,” he says as he lifts my chin, “she’s a part of you.”

  “And you.”

  His lips drop onto mine, and we kiss slowly in this quiet moment above the new love of our lives. My chest aches in a pleasurable pain as my heart grows. Tears dampen my cheeks, and when Jill coos in my arms, our kiss is fractured by my breathy giggle.

  “I swear to both of you girls, no man will ever love you like I do,” he vows. “I never knew life could be so good to me, and it’s all because of you, Tori.”

  Landon bands his arms around me and Jill as I continue to weep. I rest my head against him as he comforts me like no other man has ever done before. An overwhelming sense of peace consumes me, and I bask in the euphoric bliss I didn’t know existed until this very moment.

  I can’t even remember our life before our girls. I’m sure it was less stressful and more spontaneous, but I wouldn’t want to go back. Sure, the daily cycle can become monotonous, but I guess that’s what being a grown-up is. Brooke’s life with her husband and son is the same, but we love that our families have adapted to the uneventful routine of life.

  Another reason why I love my job is it provides me an escape. And after the spat Landon and I just had, I need an escape.

  I lean down and give my Jilly-bug a kiss, tucking the blanket in around her before shutting the door behind me. Making my way downstairs, I get my laptop and settle myself on the couch. I kill time by scrolling through my social media pages, replying to posts fans have tagged me in and a few of the endless private messages. I do my best to keep up so readers don’t think I’m being rude and ignoring them, but there’s just no way I can get to every single message without it taking over every minute of my day.

  While I’m scrolling through my newsfeed, I come across a status update from Kristen. Our conversation at dinner last night plays back in my head, and I try to remember that website she told me about. It takes me a minute to remember and I type “FetLife” into the search engine. I click on the first link that pops up, which takes me straight to the site, but I’m blocked from exploring unless I create an account.

  Not sure about what I’m going to come across, I decide to make a vague account, filling out only the required info. I leave no description of who I am, but I’m forced to list at least one fetish. Scrolling through the selections they offer, I’m shocked by how many there are and how many I’ve never heard of in my life. I may write sexually charged books, but apparently I’m not as educated as I thought.

  Needing access to this site, I decide to select the one that’s most familiar to me, but also the one that is far from my personality. What do I care? I mark my fetish as “submissive.” There’s no requirement to upload a profile pic, so I don’t. Clicking “submit,” I create the account and now have access.

  The site is a tad confusing as I fumble around. With a click here and a click there, I find myself on random forum threads. There are lots of explicit photos as I scroll through the feeds. When I pass one that shows a man’s fist being crammed into a woman’s vagina, I look in horrid disbelief.

  Fucking gross!

  Who the hell would be into that? And why? I swear I feel phantom pains in my own vagina just by looking at the picture. I wonder what kind of messed up childhood these people had to wind up having such questionable sexual desires. It’s so weird.

  I exit the page and shut down the Internet. I’m much too tired to be seeing shit like this. Knowing I have to be up early to drop the girls off at school, I close my laptop and go to bed, unfortunately with lingering images of perverseness running through my head.

  Curling behind Landon, I regret fighting with him earlier. He has been working such long hours lately, and I shouldn’t have come down on him like I did. His body stirs, and when he rolls over, I whisper, “I love you.”

  He pulls me into his arms and tucks my head under his chin. His body is hot against mine, and I cuddle into him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too, babe,” he murmurs in a sleepy rasp before drifting back to sleep.

  By the time my alarm goes off and I roll out of bed, the kitchen is clean and the girls are already dressed for school.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I told you I’d do the dishes in the morning, and it’s morning.” He stands with humorous pride with a dish towel slung over his one shoulder. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” I walk over to Emily and Jill and shower them in kisses and hugs. “Mommy missed you two so much. Were you girls good for Daddy while I was gone?”

  “Super good,” Emily says in her sweet four-year-old voice. “
Daddy let us have a floor picnic in the living room last night and we watched Cinderella.”

  “Wow.” My voice rises in enthusiasm. “You must have been really good.”

  “Emily tried flushing one of my Barbie heads down the toilet and made it overflow,” Jill tattles.

  “It was an accident! Daddy, tell her it was an accident.”

  “How do you accidentally flush a Barbie head down the toilet, Emily?” I question while trying to hide my smile, but she just stares at me, dumbfounded, and shrugs her shoulders.

  “I thought we were over this incident,” Landon interjects. “I rescued the head and attached it back to the body. The toilet it fine. There’s nothing more to discuss aside from the fact that neither of you have brushed your teeth yet, so hurry up before we’re late for school.”

  Both of them run and clomp up the stairs as Landon hands me my cup of coffee, but before I take a sip, I set it on the counter.

  “I’m really sorry about last night. I was tired and bitchy, and I took it out on you.”

  “I’m over it. Don’t worry about it,” he placates. “I’m under a lot of stress, but I don’t want you to mistake that for a lack of caring. By the time I get home, I can barely even focus because I’m so drained.”

  “I know you are. And I know my traveling this weekend put a lot more weight on you.”

  He kisses me when I slip my arms around his waist.

  “Please tell me you and Brooke at least had a good time in Vegas while I was fishing out the decapitated head from the toilet,” he laughs.

  “We did. It was a good trip.” I turn, pick up my mug, and take a sip at the same time the girls come bolting down the stairs.

  “I’m going to take them to school and then head to the restaurant. I won’t be home till late. Damon wants to run a couple new recipes and sample them on the menu tonight and then tweak them according to the feedback.”

  “Okay, well, try to have a good day.” I walk over and hand the girls their backpacks, and before the door is closed behind them, my cell phone rings. I run to the bedroom and grab the phone to see it’s my editor from the publishing house. “Hello?”

  “Madilyn, it’s Tabitha.”