#quarantinepickmeup

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If Sidney Chambers were my boo, part five:

He always knew when there was something on my mind. Maybe he possessed some kind of ministerial sixth sense or he just knew me really well.

"My dear, what is bothering you? Tell me."

It had been weighing heavily on my mind for a while, but I wasn't sure quite sure how to bring up. "Well..." I twisted my fingers in my lap. "I know we've only been married for a year and we've yet to discuss the matter, but... Chambers, I want a baby."

He looked at me as if I punched him in the stomach. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He ran his hand through his hair, then patted his pockets till he found a cigarette, which he put in his mouth and immediately lit up. After taking a deep drag from his cigarette, he asked, "You aren't already..." He gestured vaguely toward my stomach.

Obviously, this conversation was not going as well as I hoped it would. If he had asked for a whisky at that moment, I heartily believed I might have left him.

"No, Sidney!" I gasped. "You're behaving abominably about this." I was near tears, but determined to stand my ground. My hands balled up into fists at my sides.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, you just knocked me for a loop, that's all. Obviously, I'm expecting to have children with you." He took another drag from his cigarette and conscientiously blew the smoke away from me. "I just didn't expect it to be now. Archdeacon Atubo has made noises about retiring and discussed with me the possibility of being groomed for the position..."

I balked at this. "Sidney, the Archdeacon is a relatively young man still! That could be years from now." I covered my face with my hands and sobbed.

It wasn't long before I felt his arms around me. "Just let me get used to the idea, all right? I just need a little bit of time."

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If Sidney were my husband, part one:

“Are you going off with Inspector Keating again?” I ask, drying my hands on the towel, so I could give him a proper goodbye.

He is shrugging on his black jacket, while checking himself out on a small mirror. “Yes, there is a case in Cambridgeshire that requires my help at the moment.”

I frown as I straighten out his collar. “Well, don’t forget that you’re supposed to see Mrs. Wheatley this morning and your committee meeting at four this afternoon.”

He takes my hands in his and inspects them. “Why are you washing the dishes? You should leave that to Mrs. C. You’ll ruin your beautiful hands.”

I arch my brow. “Oh, so it’s okay for Mrs. C to ruin her hands, is it? Why? Because she’s the housekeeper? Your snobbery is showing, Chambers.”

He rolls his eyes, then pulls me close for a kiss. “I have to go. Will you tell Leonard to cover the committee meeting?”

I groan at this. “But you’ll go see Mrs. Wheatley?”

He is already at the door when he calls out “Yes!”

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If Prince Andrei were my boo, part six:

I didn't expect my relationship--if it could even be called that-- with the Prince to change.

I was merely a serf, though I owned the land my house was built on, and he was the lord of all he surveyed.

I had dismissed myself as a mere dalliance, for he was obviously bored in the country and thought to amuse himself with a local woman.

I knew of his betrothal to Natasha Rostova; this was impressed upon me by Princess Marya, for she must have sensed I was developing feelings for her brother. How utterly mortifying.

Still I visited their family estate, upon the pretense of seeing Princess Marya, but she was out on a stroll with her companion.

Instead, I was shown to the drawing room where the Prince sat at the piano, with his elegant back to me. "Do you play, your Highness?" I couldn't help but ask.

He slowly turned in his seat on the bench and did not look surprised to see me. "Ah, Countess, I've been longing to see you. Come, sit by me."

I regarded the bench with apprehension. "Surely there isn't enough room for both of us?"

He chuckled indulgently. "I should have been more clear. What I meant was, sit on my lap."

I couldn't have heard him correctly. "I beg your pardon, my prince, but surely that is highly improper?"

He raised one arrogant eyebrow. "Countess, I was under the impression that you enjoyed my affection."

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If James wuz mah man, part trente-trois:

“Do you really think it’s a good idea?” I ask him from deep within the bedroom closet.

“Will you come out of there? I can barely hear you.”

Brushing my hair out of my face, I find him on the bed, peering at me. “Jimmy, you really want to leave London and flee to your family home in North Yorkshire?”

He sighs heavily, then nods. “I think we’d be safer there. It’s still fairly remote. We can walk around. Kipling will have a yard to run around in. The house is bigger.”

I throw my hands up, at a loss for a comeback. “Honey, it’s a four-hour drive. Aren’t there checkpoints or something?”

He laughs, surprising me. “Sweetheart, where do you think we are, Stalinist Russia? We can travel anywhere within England.”

I sink onto the bed next to him, my shoulders deflated. “But what about your work, people trying to contact you?”

He puts his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “Where do you think North Yorkshire is? It’s not like we’re moving to the Amazon. And it’s only for a couple of months. You’d probably get more writing done up there.”

I turn toward him and slip my arms around his waist. “Us moving to some remote place just makes it all seem… so… zombie apocalypse.”

He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “You’re so melodramatic.”

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If Sidney Chambers were my husband, part four:

“I told you I don’t want you hobbling around on your feet. Why can’t you do as you’re told, for once?” He is annoyed with me clearly, but hasn’t raised his voice. Sidney never raises his voice unless he were truly upset.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Mr. Chambers. I had to go to the loo. Was I supposed to wait around for Mrs. Chapman to help me? I’m not an invalid!”

His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. “But you are! You injured your foot due to your obstinacy and you’ll make it worse because you won’t do as you’re told.”

Though I hardly ever cry, I’m suddenly near tears because my foot hurts and my vicar husband has sympathy for everyone in the world but me. “Why are you here? You hardly ever come home during the day these days.”

He grunts in response. “I came to check on you, you silly woman. And I do go home. I try to have lunch with you whenever I can because I know you get lonely here, don’t I?”

I start to sniffle and a white handkerchief instantly appears under my nose. I look up at him. “I just really had to go to the loo, Sidney. Otherwise, I’ve been sitting here all day, reading this book.” I hold up a novel by Henry James.

His face softens and he sits down next to me on the sofa. “I wish I could stay with you and look after you, my sweet, but I can’t. I have a responsibility to the people of this village.”

I touch his cheek. “I wouldn’t want you to. I fell in love with you, Sidney Chambers, because you want to take care of the whole world.”

He turns his face into my palm and kiss it.

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If James wuz mah bae, part trente-deux:

“Hey, sweetie, why so serious?”

He doesn’t answer for a long while and my heart starts pounding in my ribcage.

“Sit down,” he says, indicating the sofa perpendicular to the armchair. “We need to talk.”

My throat dries up like the Sahara and I choke on my own spit.

He hands me his own whisky glass. “Drink this,” he commands.

I do as he asks though I’m close to hyperventilating at this point. “Are you breaking up with me?” I manage to gasp.

His blue eyes widen as he shakes his head no. “My God, why would you think that? Far from it, sweetheart.”

I sputter through my tears. “Damn it, Jimmy, you never ever say ‘we need to talk’ with that look on your face and that tone of voice. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

He rose from his armchair and sat next to me on the sofa, throwing his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I meant to talk to you about… us. No, no, don’t look like that.”

I’m holding my breath, hardly moving.

“I just want to make some changes. You do so much around the house. You’re not my housekeeper. You’re my wife. And you’re so skittish around me. Why are you so shy around me?”

I squirm in his hold, even though my first instinct is to curl into him and melt in his arms. “I don’t know, boo. It’s just… I get so intimidated by you sometimes.”

He scoffs. “Why? Because I’m a celebrity?”

I shake my head and kiss his cheek. “Because you’re you. You’re larger than life. And sometimes I still can’t believe you choose to be with me.”

He cups my face between his hands. “It’s you who I can’t believe choose to live with me despite my demands and moods and crazy schedule. You are amazing.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop it. You are.”

He kisses my chin. “You are.”

I giggle. “We can do this for hours.”

He kisses my brows. “We can. You just need to relax, okay? You have me. Got it?”

I drop my forehead on his shoulder and kiss it. “Got it.”

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If Alex Godman were my man, part five:

I was half-asleep, groping blindly for Alex when I realized his side of the bed was empty. I glanced blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table. 6:30 in the bloody morning.

I hastily slip on my dressing gown and stumble out of the bedroom, only to find him sitting in the living room with his back to me, his broad shoulders seemingly set in stone.

I had never been physically afraid of Alex, but at that moment, he radiated such pure male rage and seething anger that it came off of him in waves.

"Want a cuppa?" I asked feebly. He was so tense that he almost jumped at the sound of my voice.

He took a breath from somewhere deep inside him and when he exhaled, his entirety seemed to leave his body for a moment.

It seemed safe enough now to touch him. I placed my hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter, darling?"

His body crumpled then, as if he'd been holding it stiff for so long that his muscles finally gave out, and he buried his face in his hands.

I went around the chair and kneeled in front of him, trying to see his face. "Alexi, smotri na menya!" I commanded him to look at me in Russian.

That seemed to do the trick. I only knew a few phrases, since I had just started the language course. "What happened, my love? Tell me, Alex, please."

He reached out for both of my hands and kissed my knuckles. His eyes were red with tears. "My uncle's old enemies put a hit on my father and shot up his Land Rover. Luckily, he wasn't in there, but his old driver Anatoly was killed."

My heart slammed against my ribcage. "Alex, my God, this is way beyond our control now. We need to go to the police."

He shook his head vehemently. "And they'll do what? This is an old-country Russian mafia fight. The police won't do anything. Even they are powerless against them."

I grasped both of his arms. "What are we going to do?"

He cupped my face between his hands. "You will stay out of this. I will do what I HAVE to do."

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If Alex Godman wuz mah boo, part four:

I was so relieved to have him home, that I would have prostrated myself before him and kissed his dusty Oxfords the moment he walked into the door of our flat.

Instead, I coolly inquired, "How was Tel Aviv?" as I took his bag away from him and eased the jacket from his body.

"It was productive."

Even though he seemed exhausted to the bone, I could still sense wariness emanating from him. "Alex, why don't you take a shower while I prepare a late supper for us?"

He mustered a smile for me and kissed me on the cheek before heading to our bedroom. When he was out of sight, I searched his bag and jacket for his phone, but it must have been in the pocket of his trousers. Damn. He had even changed the password to his laptop. I gave up and busied myself with preparing us a meal of pasta salad and cold chicken leftover from my takeaway dinner last night.

Soon enough, he was in the kitchen with me with wet, freshly combed hair and dressed in a teal pullover and jeans, looking achingly handsome.

"Oh, my dearest," he said before wrapping his arms around me and tucking my head under his chin as I was almost a foot shorter than him. "Everything is going to be all right, you'll see. I'm taking care of it. There's nothing to be afraid of."

I pulled back just enough so I could see his face. "But Alex, I'm afraid for you. Who's taking care of you while you're out there?"

He held me close once more and kissed my brows. "Let's eat, huh? I'm starving."

As I've already set the table, all he had to do was sit at his usual spot. I served him first, then myself. Alex appreciated traditional gender roles, though he would never admit it out loud.