The Way We Were : A second chance romance (Take Me Home Series Book 2)

by SJ Cavaletti

  “Thanks, Lizzie. So I’ll grab something to wear. A dress? Or do you want to try the new jeans I got you?”

  “I’ll try the jeans.”

  I went to my closet; she had assigned the small one in our spare room, and grabbed a package that had arrived for me several days ago. It was from a company that made adaptive clothing for wheelchair users. Higher backed pants with no pockets or rivets, lower fronts… more comfort. And a size up, but I’d be sure not to mention that.

  When I got back into the room, she had shuffled to the edge of the bed, ready to get dressed.

  “What do you think of these?”

  I held up the dark wash, straight cut jeans that personally, I thought, looked like every other pair Liz owned.

  But to her, they didn’t. First, she smiled. One full of effort but a weak outcome. Her chest heaved, taking in heavy breaths. And then she cried. A silent but wet cry. She sniffled and choked on her tears, trying to keep them in.

  I bent down next to the bed and put my hand on her leg, though she could no longer feel that comfort.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I thought you’d like these?”

  “I just… I just…” tears choked her words, “I just want my Levi’s.”

  “You don’t have to wear these. Wear your Levi’s… I just don’t want you getting sores.”

  She pulled away from me as far as she could. She must have felt confined. Normally, she paced when she was annoyed.

  “For fuck’s sake El. I don’t want to talk about that shit with you.”

  “Liz. I know you don’t. But A, I’m a doctor. This shit doesn’t make me squirm like it does for some people. And B, I’m going to be your husband. We can’t go a lifetime without talking about your health.”

  She bit her top lip. “Sorry, I swore at you. But… it’s hardly been a lifetime since this happened… I’m not ready for all this. All this change. I keep thinking it’s just some awful dream. Like I’ll wake up as long as I don’t engage in this nightmarish fantasy. As long as I don’t talk to the monster…”

  She looked down at her hands.

  “… Maybe I’ll wake up and have my old life back.”

  Like stepping on a lake of ice, you never know if it’s thick enough to walk until it crackles underneath your feet. It was good that Liz talked. It was the first time she’d opened up about anything. Until now, she’d put on a brave face at the hospital, she could be quite the showman, and at home, she’d been quiet, always saying that she was tired.

  She wanted her old life back.

  I was simply happy she was still alive. We’d make something new. Better even. As long as she was here with me.

  “I can’t understand where you’re at without you telling me. Lizzie. When all this went down… I was just so grateful you were still alive. That you were compos mentis. With our two crazy minds, we can dream up another life. One that’s just as good or even better than your old life. Than OUR old life. I really believe that.”

  She looked me in the eye and cracked a smile, but she wasn’t fully convinced. Not even partially convinced. At least we’d gotten this far. The communication began. So I didn’t push it. Didn’t push her.

  I put on my firm but fair voice. The one I used for patients that didn’t want to get further testing. Or refused to believe that I needed to remove the thing they had shoved up their ass.

  “Babe,” I said, standing and throwing the jeans on the bed next to her, “I’m here for you. I love you. I love all of you. You could wear a garbage bag. Or Versace. None of that matters. I just want you to wear that smile of yours again. So get dressed. And let’s get our laugh on.”

  That night was the first time we’d shared a laugh since Sedona. Liz had been on pain killers so neither of us had any drinks or loosened up since the accident. The crowd was on point. Easy to please but to be fair to the comedians, they were quality talent.

  We lost ourselves. For two hours, we lost ourselves. Unexpected pregnancy, wife troubles, naughty dogs and inept bosses… the jokes took over our minds, bodies and souls.

  I looked over more than once, relieved to see that Lizzie smile. The smile that made me smile. Sparkly eyes. Big, white teeth, almost too big for her mouth, making her look adorable and almost child-like.

  We talked about the jokes, some still made us laugh all the way home.

  Back at the apartment, while she was looking for something to eat in the fridge, I turned her chair around and leaned over, my nose nearly touching hers.

  “You know what?”

  “What?” She asked, nervous and knowing. We’d been together long enough to read my eyes. She knew “what.”

  “I think I need some practice carrying you over the threshold.”

  She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no. I slipped my hands under her and, with a swoop, I cradled her like a babe in my arms. She contemplated protesting, but didn’t. I walked her up the stairs to our bedroom and pushed open the door all the way with my foot. Taking her to the bed, I laid her down, gently but not too gently. I didn’t want her to confuse my intentions.

  I laid down alongside her and kissed her neck. Her breasts rose with a deep inhale. I hadn’t touched those for months now. It was torture lying in bed next to this woman and not touching her. Not kissing her, not making love to her…

  Her body quivered, responding to my kisses on her neck, her sweet spot. Her naughty spot. The spot that usually got all her other spots going.

  I whispered in her ear. “I want you…”

  She turned her face to meet mine and kissed my lips. “I want you, too…”

  I kissed her harder and melted my lips against hers. Her tasty, wet tongue danced with mine. I sucked in her bottom lip and ran my tongue along it, then inside her mouth again. The way she kissed back, I knew she wanted more.

  I slid my hand up her shirt, along her smooth, soft belly, and toward her back. I knew all her bras and had trained them to succumb to me in the flick of a finger. Pop. It opened and out sighed her big, natural tits. My god were these her superpower and my weakness.

  Her bra loosened. My hand made its way around front to take in her firm, meaty breast and squeezing it gushed blood into my dick. It was impossible not to get hard. Not that I tried not to.

  Her back arched slightly into my hand. I circled a finger around her nipple as I climbed half on top of her, continuing to tease it, and pushed her head aside with my other hand to lick her neck.

  Nibble.

  Bite.

  She gasped and her nipple tightened even more. These tits were heaven sent. I took her earlobe into my mouth and flicked it, then smoothed my hand down along her side. Goosebumps betrayed her cool.

  My cock throbbed. It could have popped right off me at this rate, but tonight was all about my baby girl. My hand caressed her side, then slid further down, along her hip bones, to the top of her pubic bone. Her pussy so close forced blood further into my dick and it pound wildly. Everything else did, too. Heat seared every inch of my skin with lust but also with an almost painful need for this moment to work.

  I climbed on top of her and straddled her. Inching her shirt up and over her head, her gorgeous breasts heaved up and down on her chest. My God I loved her tits and I hadn’t touched them or squeezed them in so long. Since Sedona, I’d only watched them while she showered, through a cracked bathroom door like a horny teenage boy. My lips had never enjoyed them so much as I softly traced around the milky, soft skin, leaving the nipple until last, finally taking a toothless bite.

  My lips attacked her neck again because when she arched her back, her tits rose and she was so mine. Her body responded instinctively. No consideration, just action. She could never get enough neck, my Lizzie. I inched downward and sucked in the flesh of her breasts like a fucking baby looking for a teat. She writhed, and I knew she wanted me to find that pink pebble and flick it. Give her the satisfaction, but I made her wait.

  I made my way downward. Down her breastplate, kissed along her ribcage.
Careful with her scars, still red and purple in places, I wanted to stop and give them love, too. Kiss them gently and show every inch of her body gratitude for healing so gracefully. They almost turned me on. Thinking what a lucky fucking man I was that this woman was still here. But I moved over them swiftly, not wanting to make her think about them as surely her opinion would be in a different place than mine. She wouldn’t come if she felt self-conscious.

  My tongue trailed along the middle of her belly, pushing it in to her belly button where she had a tickle spot, and my dick twitched, wanting to be inside any goddamn part of her.

  I kissed the tops of her hipbones and spread her legs wide open. She stiffened. I was so close to her pussy now; it was the only place left for my mouth to go.

  I took my two thumbs and spread open her lips to see her clit, engorged. Ready for a lick. Ready for me to tongue fuck…

  “El?” She whispered from above.

  “Mmm…” I asked, the smell of her sweet pussy the only thing I could really think about.

  “I can still feel it. Everything down there.”

  There is a God.

  My tongue gently placed flat on her clit. Softly I lapped her like a dog. And I was one in fucking heat, my lips soft from the opening of her all the way over her button. She was like a smooth marble, engorged and hard.

  Kissing, licking, her juices were all over my mouth, and I rubbed my tight cock on the bed, giving it some relief. I put two fingers inside her and they slid into the wetness. In and out. Her torso writhed, urging me to go harder. I did, I pushed them in deeper and I could feel that spot inside go hot. Wetness gushed into my palm.

  She reached down and pushed my hand in further and as she let out a moan, coming into my hand, my dick gushed on the bed, releasing months of wanting and desire that for all that had happened, never once waned.

  “Mmmmm,” Liz groaned. Her clit pulsed again. She took in one last sharp breath and with that, her sex began to soften.

  I looked up to see her eyes closed, head dipped back. “I needed that.”

  It didn’t need to be said, but so did I.

  17

  Liz

  Five and a Half Years Ago

  Miami

  * * *

  I still didn’t feel right. It had been four months, two days, and five hours since the ATV accident. My Mom told me I should be proud of myself. She pointed out that I had rehabilitated much faster than anyone would have expected. Including the doctors. She pointed out that I’d adjusted to my new life with grace. She pointed out that El and I were still together and happy.

  But that last point… it felt, well, pointed. I knew it wasn’t. I knew my Mom would never suggest that I was lucky El stayed with me. She really wouldn’t. My Mom was a powerhouse, take-no-shit-from-nobody-especially-men kind of lady. She meant it as it was.

  El and I surviving such a tragedy was something to be proud of. It was also something nobody else knew wasn’t exactly true.

  On the outside, and even a few layers deep between us, El and I were doing great. He and I pivoted like we’d been playing this game for years. We got a new ADA apartment so I could get around better; we picked a wedding date. We made up “save the date” cards and talked about getting a dog.

  A Spinone Italiano.

  We even were getting intimate again. We hadn’t had full-blown sex since Sedona, but we were trying. I felt mostly relaxed when we he touched me though, had to work hard to let go of the constant reminder that he now gazed upon thirteen scars and a skin graft. Each time it got easier, and they were fading and slowly getting better.

  In the daylight, life worked just fine. Fine enough for it to tick along like that forever. But when my eyes closed and my limbic system took over? It reminded me how scared I was to accept this new life. My cortex gave me monsters and my frontal lobe was too inactive to let me flee from them. Even if sometimes I still had my legs in my dreams. I never could run fast enough.

  The most vivid dream, though, wasn’t what one would typically classify as a nightmare. I would be out at a party with a bunch of friends. Old, new. Sometimes going back as far as childhood, but they were grown up now. And even though this part didn’t happen, in the dream, I knew that I’d left El behind and not taken him to the party because I was mad at him. But as the party wore on, and I knew I should, and wanted to get back to El, I couldn’t. Something would go wrong. I couldn’t get a taxi. Or my ride home got too drunk to drive. And my phone would be out of juice and whatever the reason was, I couldn’t get home to him. I couldn’t contact him to tell him I’d be back.

  I had this dream so, so often. I knew something was wrong. And even though when I woke I’d be relieved that it was just a dream, it wasn’t just a dream. It pointed out the elephant in the room.

  I never let El know it. Fake it till you make it was an expression that had merit. Often, one just has to spark muscle memory, or create new habits and then the new life feels as familiar as the old.

  It was my first day back in the office and I had been ready for at least a month mentally, though knew I needed to step down off the opioids before having any real responsibility again. Funders had entrusted money to me, to produce actual results and something of value. On those zoned out zombie pills, I couldn’t promise performance.

  My manager extended my grant terms for me and when I stepped into the office, it wasn’t what I’d expected. There was only one person in the entire lab and I didn’t know him. Where was Heather? And Deshon? My lab buddies?

  I rolled over to a low desk. I used to sit on the stool at the high counters.

  “Hey,” an eastern Asian man with funky blue frames turned around from his desk, next to mine. “You must be Elizabeth?”

  He rolled over in his office chair and held out his hand for a shake. I took it. “Hey, yeah. You can call me Liz.”

  He pushed up his glasses that hadn’t appeared to have fallen, possibly more of a habit. “I’m Tim.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I looked around. “Feels a bit empty.”

  “Yeah, I know. Glad to finally have a lab partner. I’ve been the only one here for a month now.”

  “What happened?”

  “The other team’s grant ended. They might be back if they get another round.”

  “Oh.”

  I really had been out of commission for a long time.

  Thankfully, Tim seemed alright.

  “So, what’s your grant for, Tim?”

  “Oh, didn’t they tell you? I took over where you left off so we’re working together now.”

  My stomach fell ten stories.

  “No, they didn’t say. I thought it was just paused.”

  “Oh no. I tried to pick up where you left off but we’re lucky there’s been an extension on the grant.”

  Why didn’t my manager mention this?

  I knew exactly why. Because she didn’t want to upset me. It was understandable and yet; it pissed me off. Yeah, I had an accident. Yeah, I had a tough time. But I didn’t want people molly-coddling me. I was a woman, not a child. I had hardly expected funders, faceless business people in the cut-throat pharmaceutical to pander to me. I knew all of this could be pulled. Or that the show needed to go on.

  She could have told me. It hurt for my baby to be in the arms of another, but it hurt worse knowing they put her up for adoption without telling me. What a sucker punch.

  “Sorry they didn’t tell you.” Tim rubbed his temples and crinkled his nose again to shift his glasses back upward. “I bet it’s a bit annoying.”

  I wanted to tell Tim it was. But I didn’t want him to feel even partially responsible. We had a job to do, and the best way forward was to get stuck in and make this project a success.

  “Yeah, it would have been nice to know beforehand, but I’m excited the project is still on. I mean, that’s the main thing, right?”

  He nodded and when he turned to find some notes and bring me fully up to speed, I looked around the empty lab again. Everything
was changing.

  I used to be okay with change. When it was on my terms.

  Four days later, El bounced into the kitchen after work. I was chopping cilantro for a Moroccan stew when he threw down his backpack.

  “Mmm. That smells nice.”

  He went to the stove, took my stirring spoon, and dipped it in for a taste.

  “Damn girl. Is this the Jamie Oliver recipe?”

  “No. Ottolenghi.”

  Since the accident, El and I had gotten really into cooking. Neither of us had been that into cooking at home before. We both loved to go out, but it turned out that buying recipe books and perfecting traditional recipes from various regions of the world passed the time during my recovery and was a point of discussion. So even though we were out a little more now, we kept the culinary education going.

  We’d been through Mexican, Chinese, French, Argentinian (not to be confused with Mexican) and now Moroccan.

  El put the spoon down and came over to the table to kiss me, then sat down. He grabbed a small chunk of carrot from the chopping board that hadn’t made it to the pot.

  “How was work?” He asked.

  “Yeah, not bad. Tiring. Feeling the pressure but I don’t want to complain about pressure to you.”

  “Do it. Misery loves company. Anyway, for what it’s worth, you have a lot more pressure than I do. Innovation is like… I don’t know,” He looked around for another stray to eat. “I just have to follow a manual. Not that many mysteries walk through the door.”

  His eyes met mine. “Every day is a mystery for you. And you’re the only one that can solve it. That’s pressure.”

  “That’s pretty much it. I know I got picked for the grant based on one project so it’s not like I’m still solving a mystery. More like everyone is looking at me wondering if I can do it within budget.”

  “Fucking budgets…”

  I handed him a stick of celery from the pack on the table.