For the Love of Us

by Kaylee Rose

  She turns to start picking up around the room, but I catch the tears running down her cheeks. Tina has a heart of gold but isn’t overly emotional by nature. She hastily wipes away the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve, but I know what I saw.

  With an arm load of empty bags and plastic packaging she turns back to me at the vanity table.

  “Sit and relax a bit. I’ll let myself out.”

  At the doorway she turns back to me with an evil grin. “Oh, by the way, any chance I’ll get some pictures?”

  Count on Tina to break the tension before making an exit.

  “You’re my best friend, but no way are you getting pictures, you perv.”

  “Ha-ha, figured it was worth a shot. Blow his mind and his cock tonight.”

  The clickety-clack of her heels and the front door closing tells me I’m on my own now.

  I expect Brad to be home shortly. I use this quiet time to set up a new playlist of sexy mood music.

  He’s thirty minutes late. Just my luck, he’ll get stuck on a case or have a report to write. Except he always calls if he has to work overtime.

  Before I get myself too worked up, I open my text messages just to make sure I didn’t miss it. Nope, just the last message I saved when he sent me a meme about an old married couple watching TV. Both are snoring away, and the clock shows 6:00 pm. That’s us in a nutshell.

  Nervous fingers reach up, spinning my wedding pearls around my neck, when I freeze.

  BEEP BEEP

  The double beep of Brad’s truck alarm.

  Breathe. It’s go time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I stand in front of the hall mirror. One last look before I take a leap into the unknown. I’m terrified, perhaps more so than when Brad and I stood in front of our families when we vowed to spend our entire lives together. I was young and had no doubts about our future. It was till death do us part and I didn’t think anything would ever come between our vows. Tonight, I’m not as confident.

  I hear the door open and the familiar sound of Brad’s keys being tossed into the bowl. The thud of his briefcase on the wooden floor is my cue to walk down the hall to greet him.

  “Hey, babe, good day?” Brad’s flipping through the mail on the bureau by the door. He doesn’t look up while speaking. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a really long week. I can’t wait to change out of this monkey suit and relax. What’s for dinner?”

  He glances in my direction. The mail falls from his hands. He stammers, “You’re, you’re stunning. Are we going out? Did I forget something?”

  Softly, I correct him, “More like we’ve both forgotten something.” My comment is not just for his benefit, but a reminder of my part in this disconnect in our marriage.

  The silence between us lingers in the air. He looks awkward, not speaking, glued to the floor like a museum statue. It scares me.

  Doubts cloud my confidence the longer the silence continues. “Brad? Say something please. You’re scaring me.” I hold my breath fighting the tears.

  “I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about here. I’m confused.”

  We mirror one another with slumped shoulders. Brad’s eyes look glazed and sad while he speaks to me. “Is this an ultimatum like Sherry gave Joel? Are you leaving me? Did you and Sherry plot this out? I know I work a lot, but come on, I don’t think things are that bad between us.”

  “No, no, you’ve got it wrong…”

  He doesn’t hear what I am saying and speaks over me. “Are you seeing someone else like Sherry is?”

  “Brad, please…”

  His voice is gradually getting louder as he speaks. “Turns out Sherry dropped that bomb on Joel yesterday. She’s been fucking their neighbor for over a year. Come on, let’s hear about your little plan. Who is it? Do I know him? Fuck! I’m so stupid.”

  Holy fuck! My night falls apart in seconds. I never dreamed Brad would jump to the conclusion of me having an affair. His reaction hits like a bullet to my chest. I can see how he could jump to the conclusion because of our conversation last night about Joel and Sherry. My body shakes uncontrollably. I need to explain what tonight is about.

  I blurt out at high speed, “No! God, no! This isn’t an ultimatum and I’m not cheating on you or planning to leave either. I would never do that. Tonight’s not going like I planned. I’m stupid. My plan is—stupid. I didn’t mean to scare you or make you think there was something wrong. I never should have done any of this. I’m so sorry.”

  Brad runs his hand through his hair in frustration while pacing the floor. “I’m totally confused. What’s going on? Why are you all dressed up? What am I missing? This doesn’t make any sense.”

  I can tell by his face; he is at a complete loss. The pacing picks up again, this time twofold. I’ve seen this behavior before when he’s working out a difficult case and trying to come up with a solution.

  I’m pretty sure our night is completely ruined, but I move forward with a need to unload all that is bundled inside me.

  “Tonight was supposed to be about me trying to seduce you. The boys are out of the house. It should be our time. I want the intimate side we once had to return. I remember who we were before we took on all the responsibilities that come with having kids. I want to find the passion and desire that’s been missing in our relationship. It’s time to reconnect as man and wife. I miss you. I miss us. Everything we had before everybody else’s needs took over. We used to share so much, especially in the bedroom. I want us to find what we lost.”

  Now the loss of tonight sits on my shoulders. This stupid plan amplifying our little rough patch. How did I ever think I could pull this off? I want to rewind to the beginnings of this idea and forget this ever happened.

  Brad stops pacing, turning his attention to me. “What?” He’s squinting like I’m miles away instead of three steps from him.

  I’ve confused the hell out of him.

  The expression strangling him kills me, and I whisper in embarrassment, “Please don’t make me repeat it. Just forget it. Let it go. Please.” My eyes cast downward in shame. His anticipated words of rejection will hurt enough. The thought of his beautiful eyes piercing me while he dismisses any offer of affection crushes my heart.

  Strong arms circle my body, pulling me back into his warm chest. He doesn’t speak, only holds me tight. I’m numb. Without his support, collapsing in sadness and despair was imminent. I fight the idea of this embrace as a subtle goodbye rather than the resuscitation of our marriage.

  He pulls my shoulder to turn me, but I resist. I press my shoulders further back into his chest. The idea of accepting defeat face to face hurts too much. I’m a coward. How I wish this is just a bad nightmare. I want to wake up like I did two days ago and every day before that—boring, but not rejected by the man I can’t live without.

  “Callie, look at me.”

  The fear inside my body switches to shock as my name falls from his lips. Not babe, honey, Mrs. Thompson, or even Beavis. He called me by my name; Callie.

  The promise in hearing him call me by my real name changes everything instantly. It’s the first piece of the puzzle that fits perfectly. It brings me back to when I had my own identity. By saying my name, he’s given me strength to believe in us again.

  My name on his lips turns the key in my heart, giving into his request, allowing me to turn in his arms. My gaze is still cast downward on his perfectly polished shoes.

  Although I should be here in this moment, his shoes bring on one of my favorite memories of when our boys were young and worshipped everything about their dad.

  While at the police academy, the recruits are required to have perfectly polished boots for daily inspection. After dinner Brad would work on his boots while the boys stared on begging to help. Finally giving in, each boy would polish their shoes with him. At their age the only shoes they had with leather were their baseball cleats. Brad and the boys would sit at the table scrubbing their leather, talking and sharing how their day was.
>
  Each boy studied and imitated Brad’s every move. They looked exactly like their father, right down to the way his tongue would poke out from his lips as he concentrated on the details around the laces.

  With each swipe of their polishing cloth, the bond between father and sons flourished. At some point the nightly ritual included how to knot a necktie. Brad insisted this was an important part of growing into a gentleman.

  When the leather had the high-gloss finish required for inspection they would move on to the next lesson.

  Brad’s patience paid off. He offered each boy twenty dollars when they could tie a perfect knot five times in a row. Needless to say, each boy became a pro at neckties.

  I don’t want to forget those good times but need to move forward with our future.

  With strong, but gentle hands, Brad cups my cheeks snapping me to attention. Looking up, I see the man I dedicated my entire world to.

  He’s never wavered from taking care of me. How can I expect him to do it now if I shut him out?

  The silence continues to lay thick between us. Unable to speak I stare, waiting for Brad to make the next move.

  I gaze deep into my husband’s eyes searching for any clue as to how he feels. The flecks of amber are barely visible through a shimmer of unshed tears. In silence, my stoic husband just told me everything I needed to know. He still loves me.

  Brad breaks eye contact, tipping his chin up to the ceiling. I’m not fooled by the trick his training lieutenant taught him years ago. He and his buddies swear if you look up, the tears will absorb back into your eyes so the softer side of themselves isn’t revealed. Those big strong lawmen can’t be seen as weak by crying.

  This is too good to not tease him about. I find my voice and call him out on the sensitive man he’s trying to hide. “You know that trick doesn’t work, don’t you?”

  He’s still looking up blinking away like it will help. “What are you talking about? I have dust in my eye, that’s all.”

  “Liar.” A light punch to his chest sends us into a laughing fit, tearing a hole into the dark blanket of doubt I carried all day.

  Nothing will ever stop me from loving this man with every breath I take.

  Right now, this is the us of old. Before responsibility took a tight hold and forced us to grow up. Life happens with its weird twists and turns, but nothing compares with the depth of our connection.

  When our giggles stop, the old flame I thought had gone out burns bright in Brad’s eyes. Our laughter changes to lust quickly.

  I no longer doubt my husband’s attraction to me. My night of seduction may have been derailed but it’s right back on track. We need to make up for lost time.

  With a wicked smile my hungry fingers wander down his chest to his tented dress pants. The straining bulge is proof he wants me. My courage grows along with his delicious cock.

  This is a role I’m not used to. I’ve never been the one to initiate any form of intimacy between us. A light touch on the outside of his pants causes a throaty groan to escape his parted lips.

  Brad pushes his hips into my palm in a rhythm matching each stroke.

  If I kneel right here, I can take this to a whole new level. Just thinking about his cock on my tongue has my mouth watering. Images of Brad fucking my mouth roll like a romance film behind my eyes.

  Brad’s jaw is tight as he grits out, “Callie, stop, you’re gonna make me cum.”

  He removes my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses it tenderly, just like in one of those old romance movies. He’s not rejecting me, he’s taking control; isn’t that just the biggest turn on ever.

  Brad stares at my lips like a starved man waiting to devour a long-awaited meal. Even though I’m wearing my heels, he still towers over me and has to lower his head down to kiss me.

  Tiny nips on my lower lip, followed by flicks of his tongue make my knees weak. The tension in my body releases with each brush of his lips. The scratching of his beard against my jaw, then neck, erases each doubt I had about this plan working.

  The pace he’s set is slow, showing more control than I could muster right now. The soft puffs of air from his lips touch each patch of skin he glides over. It causes me to shiver with lust.

  Finally, on his own terms, he pulls me into an erotic kiss. Our tongues dance in perfect harmony. The give and take only two people who know each other inside out can achieve. I’ve missed these sensual kisses, and I refuse another lonely day without them.

  Oh, God. It’s been so long since any sort of foreplay intermingled in our intimacy. Squeezing and rubbing my thighs brings no relief. The fantasies I’ve had all day combined with these kisses, have me ready to fly.

  These aren’t the disconnected touches I’ve become accustomed to. Tonight, his hands explore every inch of my body, mapping places only he knows. I give in to his touch, amazed as he searches for new places to claim as his. This could take hours, maybe even days.

  There is no need to rush. No kids knocking on the door. No games to rush off to. Nobody to pick up from school. Absolutely, no rushing tonight or ever again. I’m right where I want to be; in the arms of my husband, best friend, protector, confidant, and soul mate.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I have no idea how much time has passed since Brad walked through the door. Surely my lipstick is smudged but I don’t care. I want our make-out session to go on and on. Our need to breathe is the only thing breaking the connection. He doesn’t move far away from my lips, but when he does it is in the seeking of the little spot behind my ear he knows drives me wild.

  The goosebumps I get from the light brush of his mouth on my neck send shivers through my body. I want him to go faster yet stay at this unhurried pace he’s set.

  I’m greedy. With my fingers tangled in his hair, I attempt to tug him back to my lips, when he pulls away and looks around the room.

  “Do you smell that?”

  Is he kidding? We’re on a roll. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “I think I smell smoke.”

  He must be slowing things down again by joking about the heat between us. Ok, I can play along.

  I try to sound sexy, purring out a playful response, “With the way you have me burning up, I’m not surprised. We haven’t done that in a long time.”

  I want to claim more of these long-forgotten kisses, but Brad isn’t co-operating.

  I recognize his posture and far off stare. He’s switched into Detective Thompson mode, assessing his surroundings before making his next move. His nose wrinkles continuing to sniff the air around us.

  “Seriously. I smell smoke. Don’t you smell it?”

  It finally hits me. “The oven!” I spin off his arm and run to the kitchen as fast as my heels will carry me.

  “SHIT! FUCK! SHIT! The garlic bread is burning.” As if those where the magic words, all the smoke detectors flash and screech with warnings to get to safety. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever hear again if these alarms aren’t shut off soon.

  “You know what to do. Get the oven mitts, go open all the windows and doors.”

  I grab the oven mitts, tossing him the strange lobster claw gloves. He’s not looking at me when I pitch them to him, and they bounce off his arm to the floor.

  While I shut off the oven, Brad picks up the mitts. The kitchen seems to fill with a black cloud when he opens the oven door. Once the smoke clears from the oven, I see two charcoal bricks where the buttery garlic bread once sat. I guess we won’t be having any bread with dinner. He starts tending to the oven mess as he says, “Go get some air, I’ll take care of the kitchen.”

  I walk through the house, opening windows and doors, creating a cross breeze. This usually does the trick.

  When I open the front door, I step onto the porch and take long, deep breaths, attempting to fill my lungs with fresh air.

  Many of my surrounding neighbors gawk from their front lawns.

  I want to cry. Things were finally starting to go right. Then poof, another kitch
en disaster.

  My self-deprecating thoughts are interrupted by the cackling coming from across the street. My nosey neighbor, Jan, sounds like the Wicked Witch of the West when she opens her trap.

  I turn to go back inside before she sees me but I’m too slow. I really don’t want to talk to her right now, but it looks like I don’t have a choice as she strides across the street to make me the brunt of her jokes once again.

  “More burned bread, huh? When are you going to go carb free and just give up the gluten?”

  Her stupid comment only frustrates me more. I know she’s kidding but being on the butt end of the neighborhood wisecracks is getting old.

  “Ha ha, yep, did it again.” My response isn’t friendly or inviting. Maybe if I’m rude she’ll get the hint and go away.

  No such luck. She’s still standing there snorting like a pig.

  “I better go see if Brad needs help. Thanks for checking on us.”

  The neighbors to our right, Colette and Mateo, go back inside their home without saying anything. At least someone took the hint. Their stupid jokes are the worst. With everything else that has gone wrong, it’s the last thing I want to hear.

  Jan doesn’t make any move to leave, continuing her interrogation.

  “Is it your anniversary? That dress is breathtaking.”

  Rather than tell her to fuck off, I decide to stay outside a few more minutes. It generally takes a while for the smoke to clear out, which gives me time to indulge her need to know everything conversation now, rather than listen to her tomorrow. She never gives up.

  “Not our anniversary, just trying to have a special night with Brad.”

  Her over the top mocking starts again. I count to ten before I lose control completely.

  “No special night would be complete in the Thompson house without some of your extra crispy garlic bread. Do ya think anyone called 911? I could go for a truck full of muscular firemen.”

  Jan uses both hands to cup her ears, listening for the sirens. This lady needs hearing aids and a Miss Manners class. She’s sixty-three years old and still drooling over the young guys.