by Julia Kent
No one has tested it in a long time.
We can remedy that.
“Priceless,” I murmur, closing my eyes, enjoying the attention. We made love quickly, the baby monitor on, worried Holly could awaken at any moment. The furtive sex quenched a thirst, but it didn’t sate.
“What is this, Nick?”
I look under the covers. “That’s my—”
She doesn’t laugh when she interrupts. She lets go. “No. This. Us. What...what are we?”
We’re in love.
I don’t say it. The thought loops through my mind like a NASCAR race. Endless laps.
“What do you think we are?” I whisper, lobbing back the question.
“You first.”
I pull back, watching her. Without contacts or glasses, she’s blurry.
I need her to be clear.
Groping for my glasses on the nightstand, I fail to find them. Chloe hands them to me. The air between us is pregnant with questions.
I put the glasses on. Clarity achieved.
Visually, at least.
Her eyes search my face, sweet and loving, but there’s a hesitation. A wariness.
Freedom. Family. Chloe’s at the beginning of the race. I’m in my final laps.
Starting over seems foolish, on the surface.
But I was never a surface-level guy.
“I love you,” I say, the words soft, like the fine hair that dots her arms, the little lashes on her lower lids.
Her wariness dissipates.
“I love you, too.” She strokes my cheek, the back of her hand sliding down along my jaw. Stubble covers it, the sound of her movement like whispering sandpaper.
“Can love be enough?” I asked that question more than fifteen years ago, right before Simone left.
She told me no. Showed me, too.
“Of course,” Chloe answers, her expression bemused. “How could it not be?” She frowns. “But love means something different now. It has to include Holly.”
As if on cue, the baby monitor picks up the rustling of blankets and a baby’s snurgle.
“I know.”
“You want to start over? Really?” There’s that wariness again.
“I want my freedom.”
Wariness turns to alarm, and she stiffens.
“But freedom doesn’t mean what I thought it meant.”
She cuddles up again.
“What does it mean?”
“Being with you. Building a family. Blending families. Finding meaning. Loving you and my kids.”
Holly kicks off her blanket, the movement caught in black and white on the video monitor.
Chloe gives me an uh oh look.
Time is precious.
“All my kids.”
She jerks in my arms.
“However you want to define that.”
“I’m a little old for you to adopt me, Nick.”
I pinch her.
She squeezes me.
We make love again, quickly, before Holly wakes up crying.
But that’s fine.
Because we made it.
Just in time.
Chapter 23
Chloe
These days, when I have a date with my boyfriend, I stay home and my child goes out. Is that unusual? Tonight Holly has been delivered to Nick’s house, where his girls will babysit. Nick and I then hightailed it back to my place. The logistics of my life would daunt an air traffic controller.
At least I don’t have to pack very much for these visits. Holly has more toys and little outfits there than she does here, thanks to the twins. Like Charlotte, they seem to associate babies with shopping. Holly’s first Christmas involved so many new toys and clothes that my condo looks like a Toys’R’Us bomb combined with a Hanna Andersson and Oilily fashion show.
Jean-Marc is less interested in accessorizing. His one notable contribution has been digging out their family copy of Walter the Farting Dog, which he reads to Holly with evident enjoyment whenever he is there.
If her first word is ‘fart,’ I am not going to be happy.
I’m standing at my sink, rinsing romaine and filling Nick in on the past few days. Although we work together pretty closely now, we try to keep it ultra-professional. No one at Anterdec knows we’re dating. I’m pretty sure.
“They still can’t officially tell me anything about Li, but our social worker manages to keep me updated. This week they thought they might have found her at a friend’s, but when they got there, she was gone. Or she was never there.” I sigh. “The adoption becomes final in ten days.”
“Are you worried?” he asks. He’s marinating the steak.
“No, not really. I mean, of course I’ll be relieved when she’s legally mine forever, but I don’t think Li will try to stop it at this point, especially considering the police and social workers have never been able to locate her.” I frown. He rubs my back, the gesture one of empathy. Li has no idea what a precious child she’s brought into the world. I’m so grateful to be Holly’s mother, but the fabric of our lives has this big loose end, and it’s hard to accept. I hope Li is safe and in a good place. I can’t help but worry.
“We need to celebrate the day the adoption is final. I’m declaring it a holiday...a Holliday.” He chuckles. “We’ll all go out for dinner, my kids and Henry and Jemma too.”
“For Happy Meals,” I add, laughing with him. “I love it. Let’s invite Jessica Coffin.”
Nick has put down the meat fork. He walks up behind me, and I expect to feel the warmth of his arms, but I don’t. Instead, something lowers around me, and I look down.
He’s fastening a delicate chain behind my neck. Suspended from the chain are thin circular bands of different colors of gold that interlock. I touch them gently. Spread out, they form a globe. A world.
Six bands of gold.
Tears fill my eyes and spill down around the necklace.
“You’ve become my world, Chloe,” he says softly. “I want you to remember that every time you look at this necklace, or feel it against your skin. Especially at work, where I can’t tell you myself. At least, not yet.”
“Oh, Nick. It’s beautiful.” I hold the gold rings in my palm, like a talisman. Or a promise? I turn and kiss him, tears mingling with our lips.
He chuckles. “You rinsed the lettuce with tears. Not good. I’m trying to cut down on salt.”
“I’m sorry,” I sniffle. “Your blood pressure is very important to me.”
“Especially in certain places,” he smiles. “For dessert. In the meantime, I’m starving. Fire up the grill.”
“Already nice and hot for you.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” he says, giving me a kiss. Then he sets the steaks up nicely, with a flourish.
“If you were really watching your salt intake, you wouldn’t have marinated the steak in soy sauce. Speaking of work, did I tell you that the new gO Spa vehicle is ready?” I help with dinner. I drink my wine.
Bzzz.
Nick groans and shoots me an apologetic look as he takes a call, walking into the living room. I walk outside and stare up at the dark night, thankful that in the ever-expanding universe somehow the two points of being called Nick and Chloe found each other.
Maudlin and a bit sappy, yes.
But also true.
“When’s the maiden voyage?” he asks, his hands on my elbows, slipping around my waist from behind, cupping my belly where they link. I lean back into him, smiling.
“Scheduled to depart in two months, but we’re having trouble arranging the delivery to New Orleans. We’re going to have to delay. We need someone experienced on board, but O is too busy to spare any of the staff. Plus we need someone who knows how to handle a vehicle like that. We couldn’t just hand Zeke the keys and send him off on the highway.” I sigh against him.
“Right. Zeke’s the one raised in England?”
“Yes. I think the only thing he knows how to drive is a Vespa, and even then he can’t keep it o
n the right-hand side.”
“I wish I could send Charlie on a long road trip. I could use some space every once in a while.”
“Charlie’s better at getting massages than giving them,” I laugh as I turn in his arms, facing him. “A lot better.”
Nick’s eyebrows lower.
I shrug apologetically. “Oops. Sorry.”
“I wish we could have that whole set of memories wiped out of your brain. Like on a computer. Highlight, delete, empty trash.”
“It was a very long time ago. We were just kids. The only man on my mind is you.”
He kisses me, a quick smooch that turns into something much slower, as he teases my lips with his tongue. Some part of me rises up, my body pressing into him, time elongating as the kiss makes that gentle pivot from a sweet connection to a deep anchoring. My fingers play with the fine hair at the nape of his neck, his mouth taking mine, my breath quickening until I don’t know where his heat begins and mine ends.
And I am so, so glad.
His hands slide under my silk shirt, warm skin against mine, making me forget everything around me. Almost.
“The steak,” I whisper. “I like mine rare.”
“Damn!” He rushes out to the grill.
Overcooked.
But worth it.
“Go turn on the fireplace in the living room,” Nick suggests after we finish the very well-done steak, the baby potatoes, the roasted broccoli, and a small plate of cheese and fruit. “I’ll open another bottle of wine and be right in.”
There was a time when I could not understand the appeal of a gas fireplace. No wood smell, no crackle? Then I bought this condo, flipped the switch on the wall, and beheld the roaring fire. Now I get it.
I curl up on the sofa, wrapping a soft mohair throw around my feet, and feel the room begin to warm.
Nick
Aside from destroying a beautiful cut of meat, the night’s going as planned. Gorgeous woman with smiling eyes and fabulous conversation. Good food (steak excepted), gift bestowed, and happiness abounds. We’re in that zone, the place where all the negativity of life washes away, and all that’s left is the naked goodness of, well...
Being naked.
I struggle with the half bottle of Sauternes, the uncorking process more complicated than the Big Dig. Finally, it pulls free, with a lovely subtle pop. A few stragglers of cork float on top, mocking me.
Eh. That’s what strainers are for.
I pour two glasses of wine, strain accordingly, and prepare to seduce Chloe.
“Here we are,” I say, my voice low and --
She’s asleep.
Blinking as if resetting my eyeballs will reboot the scene, I stare at her in repose, her head on the arm of the sofa, her legs curled under her. She looks like a kitten. Her breathing is steady and slow. Deep slumber.
I’m torn.
Angel Nick says, Set down the wine, cover her with a blanket, and let her sleep. Go do her dishes.
Devil Nick says, Hey, dude. It’s been a week since you got any. You know what to do. Blue is not your color.
Devil Nick sounds a little too much like Charlie for my taste.
Sighing, I swig my wine, then gently pull up the mohair throw from Chloe’s feet, covering her. The dishes won’t wash themselves.
And besides, I realize, as I watch the fire glowing against the thin strands of the necklace I’ve just placed around her willowy neck, we have all the time in the world.
I met her just in time.
But I’ll have her for the rest of my life.
Walking back into the kitchen, I start the hot water in the sink, going outside to grab the dirty grill grates. Setting them to soak in one half of the sink, I wash up all the rest of the dishes. I’m still figuring out the layout here at Chloe’s place. Baby bottles and teething rings go in one cupboard.
Still don’t understand the purpose of the wooden banana hanger.
I’m deep in my own head, scrubbing the grill insert, when I hear a sleepy gasp behind me. I turn around, hands filthy.
Chloe’s there, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, rubbing her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing dishes.”
“Why? We were – oh, Nick, I fell asleep, didn’t I?” Her voice is filled with a panicked regret. She yawns, jaw popping from exertion, her shoulders rolling with effort.
“It’s fine. I thought I’d get started on the foreplay without you,” I joke.
She gives me a blank look.
“You know. Porn for women?”
Her eyebrows go up.
“Speak English.”
“You still want to make love, right?”
She yawns again.
“Don’t get so excited,” I mutter.
“I’m going to need a lot of foreplay to get in the mood.”
I scrub furiously.
“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.
“Foreplay! Mari told me that men doing housework is an aphrodisiac for women.”
“I can think of far, far better forms of foreplay,” Chloe responds, her voice dropping to a familiar register that makes my blood quicken.
I wash my hands, abandon the rest of the dishes, and kiss her. As she steps into my arms, she pulls the blanket open, wrapping us in it. She’s hot, a little sweaty at the neck, and she smells like a mix of faded perfume, well-seared steak, wine and musk.
She tastes like my future.
Breaking the kiss, she looks around. “You cleaned my kitchen!”
“Just wiped it down. Emptied the dishwasher. Soaked the grill plates and—”
This time, the kiss is like a burst of fireworks in a bonfire. Mari was right.
“You know, I clean a mean bathroom floor,” I murmur in her ear, walking her backwards down the hallway to her bedroom.
She moans in ecstasy.
“And you should watch me scrub a toilet—”
Chloe’s manicured fingers cover my lips. Our eyes meet.
“Stop while you’re ahead there, mister.”
“Not so arousing?”
A head shake greets me.
So does a lovely stroke over my pants.
“Chloe,” I groan. Trying not to be obvious, I check the bedside clock. 8:19 p.m. We have more than an hour.
When I look back at Chloe, I find her watching the clock, too.
“Habit,” we say in unison.
Then we laugh.
And then we most definitely stop laughing.
Chloe
My black velvet pants, unzipped, drop to the floor, and my silk top slips off over my head. This leaves me wearing black heels, my new necklace, and perfume. Reaching for Nick, I unbutton his shirt, starting at the top, kissing and licking my way down, finding a new path. When I reach his belly, he moans. This man who is always so together, so in charge, can be utterly undone by my mouth on his skin. Amazing. I pull the clip from my hair and shake it loose.
My muscles are still cramped from sleeping curled up in one position on the sofa. When my ass hits the bed, I can’t resist a full, luxurious stretch, arching my back and reaching over my head, eyes closed. But before I’ve completed it, I feel something more luxurious by far, as Nick’s warm mouth covers me. His tongue starts slow, lazy circles, and I hear his quiet “mmmm” of pleasure as he senses my body’s response. He knows what pleases me better than I know myself. How is that possible?
I relax completely, then begin to tense again, but in different places, pulsing with anticipation. The hands that I stretched over my head frantically seek something to grip tightly as Nick’s lips and tongue move faster. There’s never been a boundary between our bodies. My ecstasy is his and his is mine.
I cry his name as my orgasm begins to cascade. Seeing and hearing me come, tasting it, causing it to happen, makes him so hard that he plunges into me before I’m done. I want him desperately, and I know he feels the same. His moves become more urgent until his last powerful thrust, and I feel the hot flow of h
is climax. We finish together, my final shudders blending with his strong pulsing.
“My Chloe,” he murmurs, almost to himself. I love hearing him claim me, when he’s only half aware of his own words, lost in the golden moment. But a few minutes later, still inside me, as our breathing returns to normal, he says it again clearly: “My Chloe. My love.”
I smile into his eyes, my palms on his scratchy face, but he looks back at me so seriously. With the fingers of one hand, he traces the thin chain of my necklace down to the interlocked gold rings of the pendant, warm now from our skin. He holds them up.
“You are my whole world. I love you. I need you.”
My eyes fill with tears. “I love you, Nick. I’ve waited my whole life for you. It was worth every second.”
And it was.
I waited years for Holly, knowing my life would never be complete without her, without a child to love. This mother’s love is a fierce, protective force that flows in my veins. It was born when she was born, and will live inside me until the day I die. But I know it will evolve. My job is not just to love her and keep her safe, but to prepare her to find her own independent life, to fly from our nest someday on her own strong wings.
Just as Holly will do in her future, I’ve been living my own independent life. I’ve had happy times and sad times, successes and failures, with Henry and Jemma and Charlotte for support. I was doing okay. But it was chicken broth.
I start to giggle when I remember the saying: “Cooking is like love; it should be entered into with abandon or not at all.”
Absolutely.
Then, like a horrible electric shock, my cell suddenly begins blaring “La Vida Loca.” Dammit, Henry got to my ringtone setting again. As I reach for it, Nick’s phone starts ringing, too.
“It’s Elodie,” I say, looking at the lighted screen. “How on earth does she know when we’re… Hello?”
“Amelie?” I hear him say ominously into his own phone.
“Chloe? I’m really sorry...” Elodie starts, but I can’t hear her over Nick yelling.
“I can’t believe you girls are doing this! You are not ten years old anymore! You’re not going to think it’s so funny when I turn off your phone plan and you can only dial 911 and pizza delivery!”