Mona scoffed and then tutted me. “Ya ought to go.”
“Are you going home?” I assumed Charlotte, Jimbo’s mother, would have a strong opinion about her only child celebrating Christmas with in-laws living all the way across the entire state.
Mona smiled warmly. “Uh huh. Day after tomorrow. It’s our first married Christmas, and since we spent Thanksgivin’ over at Charlotte’s, it’s only fair we spend Christmas with my family. There’s a huge to-do on Christmas Day. We have a big ol’ dinner for about forty of us, and there’s a gag gift exchange. It’s a whole lot of fun, and Jimbo’ll just love it. Mamma called Charlotte and invited her, but she said she was gonna spend it with her sisters. She’s not used to him not bein’ hers alone. I understand that and all, but, well, he’s got a wife now. Besides, we’ll drive back here the next mornin’ and have a late Christmas with her.”
“And how does Jimbo feel about that?”
She giggled. “Jimbo’ll do about anything I ask right now. I’m sure that’ll change in time, but either way, I’m the luckiest girl alive.”
“If you say so,” I muttered.
♥
Returning from a long run, I had no trouble finding our nearly hidden driveway—what with the heavenly glow. I rolled my eyes at the blinking snowman beside the steps and then staggered into the kitchen in search of Gatorade. There, I found my darling love seated at the granite island, staring raptly at his laptop’s screen.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Whatcha looking at?”
“I had no idea how many Christmas festivities go on in Winston. The list is endless.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t want to miss any of them.”
“What are you talking about? We’re staying here.”
He turned and looked at me incredulously. “Don’t you want to go home?”
I shrugged. “This is home now. Besides, I was hoping we’d have a quiet ‘you and me’ Christmas.”
“You don’t have a lot of family, but I can’t imagine they wouldn’t want to see you. And I know it’d mean the world to Polly if we went. I’m sure she’s planning a feast.”
I smirked. He was right, of course. She’d been pestering me for—“Wait a minute!” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Did she put you up to this?”
He smiled and shook his head. “My idea.”
“Bull!”
“Look, if my mamma was still alive, that’s where I’d want us to be. It’s only right that we spend it with yours.”
“Fine,” I said, exhaling heavily. With them both against me, I knew I’d have no chance of winning this fight. “But you’re going to miss some very fine festivities in front of that fireplace!”
He glanced at the hearth longingly, his pupils dilating on the spot. Then he inhaled deeply. “We’ll do New Year’s up right. Anita’s hostin’ the party this year.”
“A drunken orgy,” I said, smirking. But deep inside, I glowed with nostalgia—or the lack thereof. I’d been perhaps the loneliest girl on the planet last New Year’s Eve. Certain Pete was out of my life forever, my emptiness had consumed me. The thought of kissing his highly intoxicated self at the stroke of midnight this year was purely glorious.
“Well, if the fireplace is out,” he said, gripping the hem of my running shirt and pulling it over my head as he stood, “then why don’t I help you with your shower?”
♥
“Susie!” my mother shouted before the car had come to a complete stop. She raced to my door and flung it open, hugging me where I sat, still buckled. In a flurry, she then scurried around to Pete’s side, her arms open wide.
“Ya look beautiful as always, Polly,” he said, pecking her on the cheek.
“Now stop that. You’re gonna make me blush.” Pete carried our bags into the house, and we followed my mother down the hall. “Now, Peter, I’ve got the guest room all fixed up for you, and Susie’ll sleep in her old bedroom, of course.”
“Mother, we humored you when we announced our engagement, but we are grown adults, living together—” Pete raised his eyebrows just as the bomb detonated.
“Y’all are not livin’ together out of wedlock!” she exclaimed in horror, her face paling.
“Are you flippin’ for real? I’m thirty-one years old. I’ll do whatever I damn well please.” Pete laid a hand on my back and gently patted it. Translation: Chill.
“We didn’t want to upset ya, Polly,” he interjected. “What I think Susie-Q means is—”
“Mom, we’re sleeping in the same room, and that’s final.”
She didn’t meet my eyes, but said, “Alright. Do what ya want.” She then turned on her heels and went back to the kitchen.
Pete looked at me and shook his head. “You are somethin’ else.”
I narrowed my eyes and dragged my suitcase to the Susan Wade Memorial Shrine. The walls were still the lavender of my childhood, and the princess-style furniture I’d thought so sophisticated when I was eleven, was still neatly and perfectly placed as if I’d never left home. My track and field ribbons and various academic awards still clung to the same cheap corkboard that had been hanging in the corner since junior high, and the yellowed Bon Anniversaire sign my French class had made for my sixteenth birthday still topped the mirror. Pete lifted the Soapbox Derby trophy from the small shelf Daddy had made for it and smirked. “Honorable Mention? Knowin’ how you drive, I’m surprised ya didn’t win the whole thing.”
“I freaked out on the blocks and rode my brake the whole way down the hill, okay?”
“You?”
I grinned. “I was ten, it was steep, and I’ve spent the rest of my life making up for it.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Yes, darlin’, I’m well aware of that.”
“Y’all come on and sit down,” Mom bellowed. “I’ve cooked you a pot roast.”
Pete literally towed me up the hall. “How can we refuse an offer like that, Polly? And, boy, does it smell good!”
Once seated, she looked us over sternly. “Did y’all wash your hands?” My jaw dropped in utter astonishment.
“I was just about to do that,” Pete said, hopping back up and disappearing.
“What the hell, Mom?”
“Susie Wade!”
I pushed back my chair and headed for the bathroom, muttering mean things under my breath, and I continued muttering as I washed my perfectly clean hands. “What does she think we are, six?”
“Hush now. Let her be.”
“She may not live through the weekend.” He reached over, pecked my cheek, and steered me back to the table.
“Pete, would you bless the food?” Mom asked.
“I’d be delighted to.” After the Amen, he loaded his plate to overflowing. “Polly, you have outdone yourself.” Pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions cooked in Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup; Pete was in heaven. “And the rolls. Mmm!”
“I’ve had ’em risin’ all day.”
“I can tell. Would you pass the butter, Susie-Q?”
Still annoyed with my mother, I picked at my food sparingly. It was good, of course, but the South was on a deliberate mission to destroy my hard-earned figure. Pete glanced at my plate and said, “You’re ready for seconds already? Let me help ya.” He dished a substantial helping of pot roast onto my plate and gave me a look that said, please be kind to your mamma.
Coming home was very hard for me. My childhood had not been a pleasant one, and Daddy’s ghost still haunted the place, casting shadows and harsh memories in the recesses. “It’s delicious, Mom. Thanks for going to all this trouble,” I said, biting into one of her famous yeast rolls.
“Well, I don’t get to see y’all often, what with you livin’ so far away”—a whopping two-hundred-fifty miles—“and workin’ those long hours”—no comment. The mistress of guilt, any way I responded would leave her winning the round, so I just stuffed a forkful of potatoes in my mouth and smiled tightly.
After dessert, we retired to the family ro
om for two hours of idle chit-chat. Mom had started volunteering at the symphony this fall. Mom’s watercolor classes were going well. Mom and Gary had gone to Williamsburg again for Thanksgiving. Mom thrust two hundred pictures in our laps, over which we were expected to ooh and ahh. Mom’s church Christmas cantata had gone off wonderfully, as evidenced by the video we then were forced to watch in its entirety. Mom was so busy, it was exhausting even hearing about it. Take home message: Mom was happy, and that made me smile.
“Man, I’m beat. I think we’ll turn in,” Pete announced, winking at me as WXII Channel twelve’s ten o’clock news came on.
“Yeah,” I said, fake-yawning. “It’s been a long day. Night, Mom.”
“Y’all sleep well,” she said, glowering with disapproval.
I followed Pete’s so very nice ass down the darkened hallway and closed the door. My room was only slightly larger than my closet at home, and we bumped into each other getting toothbrushes out and scrounging through our suitcases for pajamas we would only need in case of emergency—or pretense. As I brushed by him on my way to the bathroom, a flame ignited inside me. As if sensing it, his eyes sparked.
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be waitin’.” His voice was low and held unmistakable promises.
I scurried back to find him stretched out in bed, his arms spread across the headboard, his chest gloriously exposed. I actually salivated. “You know,” I whispered, snuggling in beside him, “no man’s ever slept in this bed before.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded.
“Nobody tried to scale the wall?”
“Not even one pebble thrown.”
A very self-satisfied look spread across his face. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He clicked off the little lamp and rolled on top of me, entrapping me in an inescapable cage. I trailed kisses across his jawline, and then nipped at his earlobe. He quietly groaned before finding my lips, his tongue leisurely exploring my mouth. My hands slowly slid down the back I knew so well, enjoying the feel of his skin, his muscled ridges and tapers. He was a great and beautifully-made thing, and sometimes I still had trouble believing he was mine.
As his lips began a slow descent down my stomach, Mom’s slippers squeaked on the wooden floor outside our door. We froze.
“Night, y’all,” she said loudly.
“Night,” we replied in the same cheery tone. Pete chuckled softly, and I snorted.
“We should have a wild night of passion just to piss her off,” I whispered.
His teeth flashed in the darkness. “I’m in.”
Instead, we made love as quietly as possible. The mattress was old and creaked in rebuke. When my mind started leaving me, I bit down on my moan. Pete’s speed increased, and on a particularly powerful thrust, a loud crack startled us, and the bottom left corner of the bed suddenly dipped. Pete lost his rhythm entirely and buried his face against my shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. “Oh Lord,” he gasped, “we’ve gone and broken the bed.”
Flipping on the nightstand lamp, I hung over the side to see what damage we’d done. “Holy crap! The leg’s completely gone.”
“Here, hop off, and I’ll brace it for the night. I’m sure I can fix it in the mornin’.”
Just then, there was a prim knock on the door. “Everything alright in there?”
“Just fine, Polly,” Pete answered in a humor-drenched voice. “Susan fell right out of the bed.” I punched his arm.
“Well, it’s awfully small for two, I s’pose. Try and be more careful, Susie. Night.”
I glared at Pete, whose face was beet red with corked laughter. “Bastard,” I whispered.
He lifted the frame and propped the leg upright to hold the corner in place. Then he grabbed a stack of dusty books and shoved them under the box springs for good measure. After gingerly climbing back under the covers, he wrapped himself around me. His arousal poked into my backside, and when he began kissing my shoulder, I elbowed him in the ribs.
“Unh uh, buddy. You’re on your own.”
The bed held a double mattress—an extra small double, it appeared. It had seemed fairly roomy to me in the past. Of course, I didn’t have a full-sized man taking up most of it. Over the course of the night, as we tossed and turned, sleep-fighting each other for space, the leg flipped out of Pete’s makeshift “fix” two more times.
At five a.m., I snatched up a pair of sweats. “That’s it. I’m going for a run.”
♥
The old neighborhood had changed little. Small ranches with uninteresting but well-kept landscaping neatly lined the rolling streets. The asphalt was in need of repair, and too many cars were packed into small driveways and on lawns. When I returned an hour later, a new and better person, I found Pete seated at the dining room table, polishing off a doughnut. He plucked another from the box. “Want one? They’re still warm.”
“Warm? Like, just off the conveyer belt warm?”
“Say you want me.”
I leaned over and licked sugar glazing from the corner of his mouth. “I want you right on top of this table.”
I straddled his lap and sucked on his lower lip, trapping it between my teeth. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest. He grasped my bottom and pressed my pelvis against the erection bulging in his jeans. His hand slipped under my nylon shirt and slid up my sweat-slicked back.
“How’d y’all sleep?” Mom asked, shuffling up the hall. I jumped off Pete like he was a car hood in July.
“Like babies in a crib,” Pete replied as she came into view.
“Susie, your face is all flushed.”
“Just got back from a run. Gotta hit the shower.” I popped a bite of doughnut into my mouth and hustled down the hall before she could inspect me further.
9
The Holy Bible of Sex
Our clasped hands swung as we meandered down the busy Thruway Shopping Center sidewalk, searching for stocking stuffers for my mom.
“How about a purse?” Pete offered. “You like them.”
“I collect them like art. Mom uses the same one all the time. Knowing her, she’d just take it back.”
“What about a cooking gadget?”
“That would be you. She’s a tool minimalist.”
“A necklace?” he suggested, nodding towards the display of sparkling stones. The jewelry store definitely looked inviting. I remember gazing through its windows as a teen, wishing I could afford anything inside. I smiled to myself; I certainly could now.
“Shall we?” I asked, taking his arm.
The door dinged as we entered, and an expectant face warmly greeted us. After only minimal debate, I slapped down my Amex black card to the shocked delight of the salesman, who then tried to tempt me with diamond stud earrings.
“Bet you could use a snack,” Pete announced a bit later. Code for: I’m hungry and/or you’re getting grumpy.
We discovered a café/bookstore, and he held the door for me. The aroma of heaven itself hit out noses. “Oh yeah,” Pete said, gazing at the chocolate chip cookies cooling on a rack. He snagged a menu. “Hmm, today’s special is tuna salad on croissant with melted Havarti. Sounds good to me.”
“Thanks to last night’s supper, I’ll be doing the salad thing.”
After devouring our food and splitting a large gooey cookie, we perused the aisles in no particular hurry. “Check this out: adult coloring books. I may have to buy one of these,” Pete said, laughing.
“And Santa can bring you crayons,” I snarked.
As Pete dug through the mountain of options, I snuck to the cookbook section, searching for one he might not actually own. Then I compared their prices to Amazon’s.
“Susie-Q, I just found the holy bible of sex. This is goin’ right under the tree. The Karma Sutra is the gift that keeps on givin’!” I snorted.
A piercing female giggle erupted as I turned down the next aisle. I glanced up, fully expecting to see a group of high school kids. They were, in fact,
high school kids; they’d just grown up to adult size. I did a double take at the man standing in front of me, and then examined the woman batting her eyelashes at him. I hadn’t seen either of them in over a decade.
As my blood drained to parts unknown, all I could think of was scampering to the horror section, where my face would look no more terrified than those on the covers. Unfortunately, my feet seemed to have taken root in the carpet.
At first, the man, his eyes filled with unchecked lust for the blonde, didn’t notice me. But becoming aware of my blatant stare, he glanced fleetingly at my face, and then his eyes swept my form, lingered on my legs before finding my breasts. He offered me a lecherous smile when our eyes met. His behavior was a minor offense at best: rude, but not particularly abnormal. What hurt in a way I found hard to articulate was the obvious fact that he didn’t remember me.
I shook my head ruefully then turned and focused on the book titles beside me, not really seeing words so much as binding colors. Of course, he wouldn’t remember you, my demon chided. You meant nothing to him.
“Susie Wade?” he said suddenly.
“Tyler,” I responded all too quickly. My acting skills failing me, I realized belatedly that I’d forgotten to feign surprise or even confusion about his identity. I mentally kicked myself.
His eyes were the beautiful blue I remember, and he’d filled out quite nicely. He wore a wedding ring, which made the lascivious grin spreading across his face as his eyes fondled my breasts once more, utterly repulsive. “You look mighty fine.”
The blonde glanced at me, and her mouth fell open. “Susie Wade? Oh. My. Lord. I can’t believe it! You remember me, don’t yew? Darla Jennings?” She shuffled over in her high heels, her fake breasts pressing into my chest as she hugged me like I was a long-lost friend rather than her personal whipping post.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 9