Sketch

by Laramie Briscoe

“Nina’s fine, and she won’t be taking any more jobs from you in the future. I expect a lien release in the next few days, so that the building is mine.”

  He blinks, and I’m sure he’s not used to this tone of voice coming from me. I’m confident now, the most confident I’ve ever been, and I know where I stand in every aspect of my life. There aren’t questions in the back of my mind, insecurities that creep up at the worst times. I’ve got a handle on everything, and with a little bit of luck, I’ll have a handle on my wife, and we’ll be living together again soon.

  “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” Vince smiles at me. “You think Nina’s going to be okay with you for the rest of her life? Right now she’s living in that shithole apartment because she’s proving a point. I know my daughter. Give her a few more months and she’ll want the finer things in life again,” he taunts.

  “You don’t know her at all,” I tell him softly. “You think she’s a pawn you can use to lock down a business deal, or that she’s some piece of arm candy you can show off at one of your functions. She is that, she’s gorgeous and beautiful, but she’s so much more than that. For years, she’s tried to get you to see that, and I can’t even begin to tell you how ashamed I am that I stooped to your level, trying to buy her affection. I didn’t need to buy her anything; I had to be the man she thought I could be. I stopped treating her like a person and started treating her like an object, the exact same thing that you do. One day you’ll wise up and realize that’s not what she wants.”

  He laughs in my face. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll wake up one day, alone again, because she doesn’t want to live in squalor.”

  I take a deep breathe to calm the adrenaline that’s flowing through my body. I want to knock this guy out. We’ve never had a good relationship, and I’m okay with that. I don’t need his approval to make my wife happy. “She’s been with me for fourteen years, man. When are you going to give it up? One day, we’ll have children, and they won’t want shit to do with you because you’re such a miserable excuse for a human being. Is that what you really want?”

  His face turns dark. “Don’t threaten me. I can still ruin you.”

  A year ago, a few months ago that would have scared the shit out of me. Today it doesn’t. “You could, but I’d start back over. People know my reputation; I have a solid shop, an amazing group of artists, and the most loyal clients you’ve ever seen. Some of them are famous, so go ahead and try. Whatever you feel like you need to do, do it. I’ll still be here, doing this, with Nina at my side.”

  I don’t need to hear anymore. I’ve done what I set out to do, so I turn around and make my way back to my truck. Once I put my hand on the handle to open the driver’s side door, I turn around and yell, “Be sure to send me that release. I don’t want to make this any uglier than it has to be.”

  As I get in, start my truck, and drive away—it’s with a shit-eating grin on my face.

  Chapter Thirty

  SKETCH

  “I got a call from my dad yesterday. He said that you paid him the last payment on the loan.”

  We’re at the house, our house, and we’ve ordered take out. Sitting on the couch, we’re eating Chinese and watching mindless reality TV. There’s a fire in the fireplace, and I’m relaxed in a way I haven’t been in months. Nina brought an overnight bag with her; I know she’s mine for at least the night.

  “I did,” I tell her as I use my chopsticks to take another bite. “It was time, and I had the cash, so I gave it to him. I don’t want him holding that shit over either one of us anymore. It was always in the back of my mind.”

  “Did it have anything to do with me working for him?”

  I think about what I want to tell her, how truthful I want to be. “If you need money, you come to me, don’t go to him. I’m supposed to take care of you,” I tell her. “And I did a damn good job at it for a lot of years.”

  “But that’s what tore us apart,” she says it so softly I’m not sure I heard her right. “You taking on everything, you not letting me be a part of anything. It made me feel awful about myself, and in turn, I acted out. Like I told you before, bad attention was better than no attention.”

  I put my chopsticks down. “Then we have a problem, babe, because at this point in the recovery of our relationship, you need to be able to come to me with things.” This is something I swore I wouldn’t do, be the understanding Sketch. Make her come to me; make her beg—that’s what I told myself. But another part of me realizes I have to meet her halfway. Rebuilding our relationship on half-truths and bullshit will mean we’re miserable in a year, tops.

  “I want to be able to stand on my own two feet, Devin,” she argues. “I want to be able to figure things out when they get tough, not run to you because it’s the easiest thing to do.”

  “I want you to run to me.”

  She sets her food down now. “But I have to prove to myself I’m not a spoiled brat anymore. It would be so easy for me to say, hey, now that we’re at a better place, why don’t you let me move back in. It would solve all my problems, but it won’t solve all our problems.”

  Her saying that shows her maturity, but I want to know what she’s waiting for. Why hasn’t she moved back in yet? What’s holding her back? “Why don’t you ask me, besides you wanting to prove you can handle issues that come up?”

  She’s quiet for a while, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. It’s too late to backpedal now, so I sit here like an idiot, waiting for her to speak. It’s kind of my thing. I stick my foot in my mouth and then wait for her reaction.

  “We haven’t fought since we’ve been back together. You haven’t done that one thing that pisses me off; I haven’t done that one thing that pisses you off. I want to see how we handle it.” She wraps a strand of hair around her finger, playing with it in that nervous way she has. “We have to be able to make up from the argument. The argument can’t break us apart,” she’s saying.

  “I get it, I do, but what if we’re past all that.”

  She gives me a look before she laughs so hard she snorts and rolls her eyes. “We’re on our best behavior right now, Sketch. Let’s give it a couple more weeks.”

  Now I’m quiet because I’m wondering if she’s right. I’m thinking back, trying to determine if what she’s saying is the truth. Have we been on our best behavior because that’s what we expect of each other? I can think of instances where I might have flown off the handle but didn’t, and realize she’s right. We have been on good behavior.

  “Where’s your head?” she asks, probably nervous because I’ve all but clammed up and closed off.

  “Thinking that maybe you’re right, and I’m the one who needs to be more patient.”

  “It’s not that at all,” she’s quick to assure me. “I don’t want to jump headfirst into something that’s going to backfire on us. I don’t want to put it on a timeframe.”

  “I don’t either. We’ll both know when we’re ready.”

  Saying that takes a huge weight off my shoulders. There are no expectations, and that’s the best piece of mind I can give myself. It feels a million times better than the unknown did. I smile at her. “I’m good, we’re good.”

  She leans over and kisses me. It’s sweet, nothing like the heat the two of us are able to generate between one another lately. It’s the kind of kiss that tells me she’s here and she’s not going anywhere. We both pick our food up again, she snuggles in close to me, and we turn our attention back to the television.

  Even when we aren’t sure about where we’re going, I know we’re going to get to where we want to be.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  SKETCH

  Our bathroom has dual vanities. I can’t remember the last time the two of us shared them. She’s doing some sort of makeup removing thing and washing her face; I’m brushing my teeth. We keep catching each other’s eyes in the mirror and smiling. Nina is giggling, but I’m not sure why. I don’t need the answer.
It’s nice being with her and not knowing why we’re laughing, just doing it.

  “You got the giggles?” I ask as I smile, continuing to brush my teeth.

  She giggles again, nodding. “We look like an old married couple. I’m washing my face; you’re brushing your teeth. I don’t think we’ve ever used this vanity together besides the first month we bought the house.” She’s wheezing she’s laughing so hard.

  “We are totally not an old married couple.” I spit out my toothpaste and wipe my mouth off with a towel.

  I notice her eyes are taking in my bare chest and abdomen. Used to be I would sleep in pants and a shirt. Now it’s just pants for me, even on cold night. The extra muscle I’ve put on has helped to insulate my body, and I’m usually just fine. “See something you like?” I ask, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

  She wipes off her skin and turns to face me. “I can’t get over how cut you are. When you dedicate yourself to something, you really dedicate it, don’t you?”

  My face is red, but this time it’s not embarrassment. It’s pride she’s noticed how hard I’ve worked. “I do. At first I wanted you to look at me and be like, ‘What did I give away?’ Ya know, after I realized how much I liked working out, but then I started to see changes, and I was like, damn, maybe I can look nice.”

  She walks towards me, moving her hands to my waist. “You definitely do look nice. I’ve always loved you though, no matter how you looked. It didn’t matter to me that you’d put on some weight, I liked you just as much then. What I didn’t like was how we were treating each other.”

  I lean in and claim her mouth with mine. Sometimes I love the words she says; other times, it brings up things I’d rather forget. I crush her mouth to mine, plunging my tongue into the recesses. She answers back, digging her fingers into the skin at my ribs, letting me take her weight as we stumble and my back hits the bathroom wall.

  “I don’t want this to be crazy,” I murmur as we break apart, each trying to calm our breathing. “For once I want us to take our time.”

  She nods, her eyes somber. We both realize we’ve reached a point here. It’s not a breaking point, but it’s a point where we have to figure out where we’re going to go. We can’t just keep dating one another, we’re married. Nina fists the shirt she wears in her hands and pulls it off her body. My eyes immediately go to the hardware in her nipples. “How are they?”

  “Good. I wish they were healed so that I could feel your mouth on them,” she admits, pushing against me.

  “I want that too, but a few more weeks. Don’t want them to get infected. That,” I grab her by the chin and force her to meet my eyes, “is not sexy at all.”

  She laughs. “I bet not.”

  I tilt her head with my hand on her chin and take possession of her mouth. It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been together, but I know it’s not been that long. I’m fucking addicted to her. Addicted in a way I’ve never been before. I think about her all the time, and I want her with me. I want to make this work, and I’m afraid if we don’t make it work it will decimate me. Saying those words aloud aren’t an option, so I keep them locked away in the recesses of my brain where those insecurities we don’t want to tell other people about hide. I hope that these insecurities never rise to the surface.

  My tongue is dueling with hers, not leaving one part of her mouth untouched. She nips on my lip as she pulls back to dig her fingers into my hair. I’m there with her, nipping right back, chasing her lips. With a motion I’m not sure how we pull off, she loops her arms around my neck and I bend with my knees, grasping her by the ass, pulling her legs up around my waist.

  I want to take her in our bed. I’ve waited to be ready for this, ready to make sure that we both realize what this means. I know what it means to me, and I truly believe it means something to her. She’s pulled away from me again, and our eyes are clashing. There’s desire there, but there’s also a love I haven’t seen mirrored in a long time. It’s enough to make my knees weak, but I lock them as I walk us over the bed. Carefully, I set her there and widen her thighs with my hips.

  “I don’t want to remember the last time we were here,” she says softly, but it’s loud in the silence of the room.

  “I don’t either.”

  But I do. I remember the last time we’d tried to do this before she left. It had been awkward, nothing about it had been sexy, and she cried afterwards while I asked myself what in the fuck I’d done to ruin my marriage. I remember asking myself when I’d become that guy whose wife cried after sex.

  This time is going to be different. I will pull my groin making sure this is good for the both of us.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  SKETCH

  I’ve covered her body with mine, enjoying the rub of every inch of my skin against every inch of hers. Our tongues are tangling in a dance we’ve never forgotten, her fingers are digging into my hips as I grind myself into her. We’re naked. Clothes were taken off a long time ago, but I still haven’t entered her and she hasn’t made the move to put me inside her. I’m worshiping her and she’s worshiping me.

  My hands are on her neck, and I can feel the kick of her pulse, the slowing down and the accelerating as I do something she likes. Pulling back, I push one arm up over her head and trap some of her hair between my fingers. Her lips are red and plumped, looking almost like they did the other day when she sucked my cock, but this is strictly from my kisses, it’s strictly from my attention to the small things.

  I feel her hand sneak in between our bodies, and I feel her wrap her fingers around my cock. It’s hard, and it’s thick; we’ve been making out like teenagers for the better part of an hour. I’m worried that two strokes and this going to be over.

  “Sketch, I want you.” She smears her lips down my neck, sucking at my pulse point before she moves her lips up to my ear. Her teeth nip at the earring I wear there. The metal warms from the heat of her mouth, and I shiver as she twirls her tongue there. I jump in her hand, and I grind my back teeth together, hoping this isn’t over before it begins.

  “I want you too. God, I want you, but I don’t want it to be this out of control thing we’ve been doing,” I tell her again.

  “I don’t either.” She shakes her head against me. “Take me slow.” She removes her hands from me and wraps them around my back.

  I shift my hips against hers and gently thrust myself inside of her. It’s not the plunge home that I’ve been doing lately. It’s soft, it’s almost lazy, but that doesn’t mask the intensity. This is probably the most intense thing we’ve done. My eyes meet hers as I withdraw and push back in. Slowly, so fucking slowly, I inch back in and her mouth opens as she inhales deeply. This slow I can feel every grip of her heat, I can feel every inch as she takes me deep, and I wonder if that’s what it’s like for her. “Talk to me, sweetheart. How does it feel?” I ask, burying my mouth in her neck.

  “So big,” she moans. “God, you feel so big this way, like you fucking own me. You’re branding me as you claim every inch of me.” She clamps down on me, and I dig my teeth into her flesh.

  “You have to let me move, let me move,” I beg her.

  She releases her grip, and I start my grind again. It’s thorough and slow, making sure I hit every hot spot she has. Our eyes meet again and it’s so intimate. I feel like I’m totally bare against her, that she sees every part of my soul, and I want to withdraw, but I know that gets us nowhere. For us to move past everything we’ve done to each other, we have to open ourselves up, so I face her head on. I give her my eyes, I give her my love, and I give her my truth.

  “I love you.” I crush her body into mine and move my mouth to her ear as I plunge in and out of her. “I thought I was going to fucking die when you left me; I thought my life was over. Never in a million years did I think I’d have you back here, in my bed, making love to you again.” I want to stop this shit coming out of my mouth, but I can’t. It’s like the gates have opened, and I want her to know it all. “Please wor
k this shit out with me. I love you and I want you in my life. I want us to be happy. I want us to never give up on one another.”

  She digs her fingers into my shoulders, hanging on as I thrust into her. Now she’s meeting each thrust, moaning every time I bump her clit. “I’m not going anywhere, Devin. I love you too.” Those words sound like they’re ripped from her throat.

  I thrust hard and deep one more time, and my orgasm surprises me, riding up my spine, spilling deep inside of her. My arms straighten out over her head, my fists grip the sheets, and my teeth clench as I grind my cock into her, meeting her eyes as I pour myself into her body. Heart and soul and everything else.

  Me getting there must get her there too. As I feel her clench against me, I feel the bite of her fingernails, and I glimpse her O face. All of that before I hear her breathe deeply against me, I hear the softly mumbled “Devin” before she drops her legs from around my waist.

  I roll to my side, bringing her with me, pushing her hair out of her eyes before I wipe the sweat out of mine.

  “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” she asks long after I thought she was asleep.

  I tighten my arms around her, not exactly sure what’s transpired in this room, but I know it’s been earth-shattering for the both of us. “We’re going to be okay,” I tell her.

  I’m careful not to say we aren’t going to be perfect, because that’s not us, and that’s not something I can promise. We still have a ways to go, but I feel like we’re getting there. I feel like we’re closer than we’ve ever been.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  SKETCH

  Reaper is back under my needle, and I’m laughing at something he’s telling me about his son when I hear my phone go off at my side. I normally don’t have it on when Reaper’s on my table, but for some reason, today, I felt the need to keep it on. I take a glance at it and see Nina’s name. Usually I would leave it alone, but I decide I need to at least glance at it.