Free Best Laid Plans by Billy London

reminder to me that I don’t need that anymore. And I want to stay out.”
    What a fucking bitch. “That’s nice,” she said lightly. “What’s this woman’s second name again?”
    He gazed at her, amusement bright in his eyes. “You should see someone about that temper.”
    “It’s not a temper tantrum if I’m correcting someone’s behaviour.”
    “Sweetheart, the last time you did that, this happened.” He took her hand and traced where glass had embedded itself in her flesh. “Everything happens for a reason.”
    “You are far too calm about this. I don’t know how you’re okay with this—I still get angry on a regular basis, but I have a counsellor. I know you’re not dealing with it because you wouldn’t still have nightmares if you were.”
    “It’s fine. If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have got out. And I wouldn’t have met you. So no need for you to take up arms.”
    “I’m not going to.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes!” She felt herself weakening. “I mean I don’t even know anyone in Italy to stay with.”
    “You can travel there, and that’s what scares me.”
    She breathed out. “I’m only mad, because I just don’t like the idea of you in pain.”
    He lifted her thumb to his mouth and bit gently. “Kiss it better for me, then.”
     

Chapter Nine
    She stayed with him the whole weekend, and it was glorious to wake up and see her face next to his, feel her body pressed against his own on both mornings. They mostly milled around the flat, but took a walk along Putney Bridge and along the Thames after Francesca demanded some fresh air. “I know if we’re in public you won’t try to stick me on your dick. As much as I enjoy that, I ache like hell.”
    He couldn’t really argue with that, so a walk was taken. They sat on a bench under the shade of the park trees that paralleled the river and watched people, cars and buses passing over the bridge. Francesca lay her head on his thigh and fell asleep within a few minutes. This was what it was to be happy. At peace. He knew Francesca was sleeping because she couldn’t worry any more about him or what could be in a month’s time. After all, he had told her the worst and she was still with him. She hadn’t crawled out of his bed and skipped back to Balham wiping her brow and crying, “Lucky escape!”
    Instead, she’d listened, threatened Dafne and embraced him. Then she’d sent him out for more protection and ginger ale to calm her tummy, which he bought in record speed. It didn’t stop him from secretly hoping that he had made her pregnant. What else would he need to make his life complete? Not that their opinion mattered, but it would allow him to be a better father than his own ever had been. His child with Francesca would want for absolutely nothing, and never would his child doubt that he or she was loved completely by both parents.
    Come Sunday afternoon, Francesca wanted to go home to get herself sorted for work, but they didn’t leave until early evening. She pulled on the dress she’d worn on Friday, having spent the rest of the weekend in his shirts alone. Her panties, barely worn, were tucked into her handbag. It was enough to have a man committed.
    “If I stay any longer, I won’t go to work for no reason other than to stay in your bed, and then I’ll be really screwed.”
    “I’ll take care of you.”
    She’d grinned. “As sweet as that is, not going to happen. This is me sane. Me not working is me not sane. It’s not pretty, I’m warning you.”
    Was it too soon to ask her to move in with him? Yes, yes it was. Demanding obedience to his command, he drove her home with her clear direction. They pulled up to her house and she gave a sigh. “This is me.”
    “Come to me tomorrow,” he insisted.
    “But we’ve...”
    “It’s not enough. Come,” he added, drawing her into a deep kiss. With a snap, he unbuckled his seat belt, her own, and then she was half dragged onto his lap. He caught the seat release