Thresholds

by Kate Canterbary

  "It's a skill perfected over years of internship and residency," she replied. "No one trusts an anxious surgeon." She patted the cushion beside her. "Don't let me sit here all by myself."

  I went. I didn't want to stand there, my hand suspended over my head like a moron, when I could scoop Alex up and deposit her in my lap. She held out a tiny box and I surrendered her gift.

  "Together," she repeated, a note of warning in her voice.

  "No shenanies," I promised.

  I watched over her shoulder as she peeled back the paper and found the framed drawing. I wasn't opening my gift—it could wait an ever-loving second—but listened to her hums and breaths as she studied my portrait of her.

  "Riley."

  I didn't know how to interpret that tone. I was starting to think about protecting my testicles. "Mmhmm?"

  "Riley," Alex repeated, her fingers flying to her lips. "You did this?" Like a kid caught red-handed, I nodded. "Is this—" She hummed, her fingers still on her lips. "Is this what you see? When you look at me?"

  "Yes," I said. "Why? Do you hate it? I'll destroy it right now if you hate. Burn every last inch of it."

  "I don't hate it at all." Her hand ghosted over the portrait, her index finger tracing the faint lines of the honeycomb I'd sketched into the background. "I look, uh—"

  "Amazing," I whispered against her neck. "Luscious. Filthy. Perfect. All mine."

  "You did this. I can't believe you made this for me," she said through a watery laugh. "You made this and I look like—like—beautiful, and I can't believe it. Jesus. My gift sucks."

  "Unless it's a blowjob, I doubt that."

  Alex laughed and pressed the frame to her chest. "You were supposed to open yours," she chided, her tone too gentle to feel like censure. "Together. At the same time. You and me."

  "Sorry," I mumbled, yanking the ribbon from around the box. "You come first, me second." I pried open the box, surprised she didn't grab the joke I'd teed up, and found a key inside. "It's a key."

  "It is a key," Alex said with a stiff laugh. "It's a key to my apartment." She shrugged and stared at the frame again. "I thought maybe you'd want to stay here sometimes."

  "I do stay here sometimes," I said, kissing her jaw. "As often as you let me."

  "I thought, maybe," she continued, "if you had a key, you wouldn't have to wait for me to finish up at the hospital. You could just come here, and—and maybe you could stay here. As much as you want. Or, I don't know, all the time."

  "All the time?" I repeated. "Like, officially?"

  "My parents have been telling people we're engaged for the past month and a half," she said. "How much more official do you need?"

  "That's a good point," I said, nodding. I did not regret announcing my intentions to Alex's parents last month. I did regret putting her in the murky position of fielding congratulatory messages and engagement gifts from her parents' friends back in Nevada. And because I created my own chaos, I'd told her I was going to marry her but hadn't actually proposed. Every day shambles right here. "It would be strange if I didn't live here."

  "That's what I'm screaming about," she said.

  I took the portrait and the key, and set them both on the coffee table. "I mean, we're basically married."

  "Basically," she replied.

  I blinked at her as the moment pulsed between us.

  Am I supposed to do this now? Get down on one knee and ask her to have me, body, soul, and shambles?

  There was a voice in the far back of my mind suggesting that I move "basically" to "actually." I went right on blinking like a damn owl.

  "Hey, Riley?"

  I don't even have a ring.

  "Yeah?" I replied, choking on air in the process.

  I can't do this without a ring.

  "Thank you for my drawing," she said, her cheeks heating as she spoke. "It feels like you put everything into it."

  Even if I had a ring, I didn't know what I was supposed to say.

  "I did," I admitted.

  I don't know what to say or how to say it, and I don't have a ring. I am an idiot.

  "I love it, and I love you," she said.

  Is this it? Is this my opening?

  "I've been stressing about this gift all week long," Alex continued. "I'm so relieved that you didn't freak out and tell me it's too soon to talk about living together—"

  "Basically married, remember?"

  Just fucking do it. Do it now, fix the mistakes later.

  "Right," she said, laughing. "Since we've sorted that out, I want holiday movies, those cookies from the party, and my bed."

  I ran my hand down her back and palmed her ass while I kissed her neck. "Are you kicking me out, Honeybee?"

  "No, no," she said. "You're coming to bed with me."

  This isn't our opening.

  But also, it is.

  "I'm going to marry you someday." I stood, Alex still cradled in my arms, and headed toward the bedroom. "Tonight, I'm gonna strip you naked and paint some holly leaves on your tits. I haven't decided where I'm drawing the mistletoe yet. I might experiment with that one. Sound good?"

  "Perfect," she replied.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Commodore

  The baby was asleep. The gifts were tucked under the tree and the stockings filled. Will and Shannon were home from the party and settling down for the night. Not a creature was stirring…except my wife.

  "I just don't know why she hasn't told us," Judy said, slapping the comforter. She'd uttered some iteration of that statement at least ten times per day for the past thirty days.

  "Haven't a clue," I said, closing my book but keeping my finger tucked between the pages. I didn't dare mention that she'd been hounding Lauren for a grandbaby since before her wedding day or that I sensed our youngest child was paying my wife back for the haranguing.

  "It's obvious, isn't it?" Judy asked. "She must be almost three months along and she hasn't said a thing. I just don't understand it."

  I glanced at the ceiling, sending up a prayer for patience. Even after thirty-nine years of marriage, plus five years of courting, Judy still tested every shred of my patience.

  "She'll tell us in her time," I said. "Lolo has a plan for everything. I'm sure she has a plan for this."

  "You say that about Wesley," she replied with an edge in her voice that told me I was skating on thin ice. "Look where that's led us."

  "Wesley is private," I said. "It's his nature. He's always kept to himself, always taken his time to share things with us. When he was four, he went two days with a broken finger before mentioning it."

  She huffed out a sigh that indicated she didn't care for my example. "I wasn't happy about that either."

  "Will is a leader, Lolo is a planner, and Wesley is a vault. That's why he's so valuable to the clandestine services."

  Judy shot out of bed to pace the length of the room. "Has it occurred to you that all of our children keep secrets from us? That they don't feel comfortable talking to us about the issues in their lives?"

  "They haven't been children for ten or fifteen years, Judith Jane."

  That earned me a sharp glare before she returned to wearing the rugs thin. I should've known better than to suggest our babies were all grown up or imply she was a heartbeat over twenty-eight.

  "They don't keep secrets," I said, patting the empty spot beside me. She ignored the hint. "They work through challenges independently and come to us once they've reached decisions or require counsel. They're smart and capable, and I am proud of their independence. We did well with them. You did well."

  "If it's such a wonderful thing, then why does it bother me so much?"

  She propped her hands on her red satin pajamas. I couldn't imagine the menswear style was meant to be alluring, but I had to drag my eyes away from the curve of her full hips in order to form a single thought.

  "Up here, Bill." Judy snapped her fingers and pointed to her face. That coquettish smile. It was the death of me. From the fir
st moment I spotted her after the Thanksgiving weekend University of Texas at Austin–Texas A&M game, that smile knocked me right over.

  I'd found her on the front lawn of my fraternity house with a group of her girlfriends. It was hot as hell that day. November—even in Texas—had no business running that warm and it forced everyone outside late into the evening.

  She wore a long floral dress, the off-the-shoulder kind without straps or sleeves. The twenty-something version of me believed—hoped—it would fall at any moment. Her blonde hair was knife-straight and brushed her waist, and she had a dandelion tucked over her ear. She was a little sprite of a lady, short and generously curved, and she shot down every man who dared walk her way. She drank Heineken from the bottle and belted out a laugh when I asked if she'd take a walk with me.

  She laughed, but then she said yes.

  I fell for her that night. Fell hard and fast, and all these years later, I hadn't stopped falling.

  Back then, Judy had other things on her mind. She had big goals and bigger plans, and no time for boyfriends. Her brother's number came up in the draft, and she was determined to do her part, too. She was studying nursing, and intended to take her training to the armed services immediately after graduation. As far as she was concerned, her personal politics on Vietnam mattered less than the fact she was capable of lending a hand to those in need. By that logic, she couldn't get overseas quick enough.

  I hated everything about that, and she didn't give a good shit.

  That was my last year at Austin. I was due in Virginia for the Navy's Special Forces training after accepting my diploma. I asked her to come with me, and then I begged. She had no interest in being a wife or setting up a home, not when she had another year of coursework to complete and then troops to aid, and there was no two ways about it.

  I fought her on it, but that was as futile as begging her to marry me. Judy was a steamroller, and nothing was standing in her way. Not even me. As much as it drove me batty, I loved her conviction. The sense of purpose that went straight down to her marrow. It was that purpose that sent me to Virginia with the belief I'd get my ring on her finger someday.

  It took nearly four years and the Fall of Saigon, but I succeeded.

  Austin was in a different conference now, and they didn't play A&M over Thanksgiving weekend anymore. It was a shame. It was a hearty rivalry. I hated how the best things changed and nothing stayed the same anymore.

  "Give her time," I said, my words rougher than intended. "Lolo will tell us soon enough."

  Judy stared at me, her eyes flaring and lips twisting in frustration. Then she reached for a pillow and chucked it at my head. "You're getting on my last nerve. My very last nerve. I have a mind to make you sleep with the dogs."

  She went for another pillow but I caught her wrist and flipped her onto the bed. My knees bracketed her hips and she was breathing heavy from the skirmish. "I'm still faster than you are, little bit."

  She laughed, and the ripple of her body beneath mine was enough to get my motor running.

  "Oh, please," she said, waving me off. "You only catch me because I let you."

  "All these years," I said, thumbing open the buttons running down her shirt. "Have you been letting me win all along?"

  She nodded, saying, "Of course not."

  I freed the final button and pushed the silky fabric away. There was nothing like the sight of her.

  "What's that face?" she asked, bringing her hand to my jaw.

  "I still can't believe it," I murmured, my knuckles sliding up her belly. There was nothing softer than her skin. Nothing in the known world.

  "Believe what?" she asked. "That I know all of your defensive maneuvers?"

  "That you're mine," I said.

  She cast her eyes down, a shy smile on her lips, and said, "Believe it, buddy. Can't get rid of me now."

  I yanked my shirt over my head. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to remain absolutely silent. Waking the baby or the kids will immediately terminate the mission. No joy for this hop. Understood?"

  She made a sour face and shook her head as she yanked my pajama pants down. "I don't want to play Mission: Impossible tonight."

  I stripped off her pants, and then mine, and returned to straddling her hips. My shaft was full and throbbing on her belly, but I wasn't moving until we finalized the rules of engagement. Silence was the target here. I was battle tested but I couldn't withstand the torture of discussing my sex life with my son again.

  "What's your pleasure, little bit?" I asked.

  She rocked her head from side to side, humming as she considered this. "Let's play spy games."

  "You can call me Bond. James Bond."

  "Pussy Galore," she replied.

  I worked hard at keeping my composure when my spunky little sorority girl made a point of dragging the word pussy out. Truth be told, it wasn't always this way. It wasn't always fun or easy, and we didn't always know how to play the way we wanted. Needed. But getting the kids out of the house helped, and the unending vacation of retired life helped, too.

  "You best be quiet, Pussy," I said.

  "And if I'm not?"

  "If you can't stay quiet," I started, running my palm along her thigh, "there will be consequences. We can't risk the arms dealers finding out our location. If they hear us, they'll know. It will risk the entire operation."

  Judy quirked up an eyebrow. "Don't you think they have an idea where we are, Mr. Bond?"

  I reached for the small bottle of lube in the bedside table and poured some into my palm. "They might have a clue to our coordinates, but we can't tip them off." I slapped the side of her thigh. "They'll bring the hammer down on this operation."

  "I prefer your hammer," she said with a wink.

  "I know you do, Pussy," I said, running my slicked-up hand over my length. "I know you do." I squeezed her leg, nudging her. "On your belly. Face down. Bite the pillow if you have to because we need to keep this action off the radar."

  She shifted, asking, "Is that why you pulled the bed away from the wall?"

  I cracked my hand over her ass when it came into view. "Yes," I replied. There was no helping it. Every time I saw that round backside bare, I wanted to spank it.

  "Good thinking, Mr. Bond," she replied with a giggle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matt

  I pulled up to the curb in front of Patrick's building, and glanced back at Lauren in the rearview mirror. "How are you doing, Miss Honey?"

  "Wonderful," she said, her attention on her phone. "I could get used to this."

  "I can't. I've reached for you five times in the past ten minutes. I'm experiencing wife withdrawals."

  "Andy says they'll be down in a second." She held up her phone as proof. "I know this isn't your favorite seating arrangement but Patrick bitches and moans if he has to sit in the back seat and I didn't want to play musical chairs when we got here."

  "I know. It's not a big deal. I'm just used to having you next to me." I shifted to face her. "I'm going to ask one last time."

  "The answer is still no," she replied, layering her hands over her abdomen. She was wearing a loose dress that concealed the slight roundness in her belly. "Let my mother and everyone else dote on Shannon. I don't want to take anything away from her."

  "I'm certain Shannon won't feel neglected." Part of me wanted to make a big announcement. The other part liked keeping my wife content. "She might welcome the reprieve. When I talked to her last night, she seemed to suggest she needed a break from everyone."

  "Maybe," she said, unconvinced. "But I want to cross that twelve-week threshold first."

  "Then that's what we'll do," I said. We were crossing that threshold in two days but I didn't get the impression Lauren was interested in hearing my logic on the matter.

  She frowned, and touched her fingertips to her lips. "My mother's head will explode when we tell her about the baby."

  Lauren was right about that. I'd built ample guest quarters
in the new house plans for a reason. "And your father will feed me to the sharks."

  "He will not," she replied. "He'll glare at you for several minutes and then he'll be thrilled. No shark bait."

  "Can we tell them about the house?" I asked, hopeful. We had a verbal agreement with the seller, and I had a fuck-ton of work ahead of me. I was thinking about juggling my upcoming projects to add some breathing room to my schedule. Maybe poaching one of Patrick's assistants. The next few months were going to be hectic.

  "I'm not—" The doors opened and Patrick and Andy piled in, their arms loaded with gifts. "I'm not sure," Lauren said over their greetings.

  "You look adorable," Andy said, running her fingertips down the sleeve of Lauren's cranberry red dress. "Is this new?"

  "It is," Lauren said, catching my eye in the mirror. "I was doing some last minute shopping after school, and it called to me."

  "Hmmm." Andy nodded as she gave the dress careful inspection. "It looks really comfortable," she said. "It's cute. This is a good style for you."

  "Thank you," Lauren said with a sunny smile. "It is comfortable."

  "Where's it from?" Andy asked.

  "It's, uh," she started, "I'm blanking on the name."

  I glanced over my shoulder, locking eyes with Lauren. "Last chance," I mouthed to her, knowing the garment was a find from a trendy maternity shop. She shook her head.

  "A little place off Newbury," she replied. "I can't remember the name but I'll point it out the next time we're in that neighborhood."

  "You should've told me you were going out," Andy said. "You could've met up with me and Tiel. We had a very special visit to one your favorite boutiques. The dressing rooms are sensational."

  "Andy," Patrick growled.

  Choking down a laugh, I gestured to the foil-wrapped dish on Andy's lap. "What do you have there?"

  "Lasagna," she said. "Shannon texted me at four o'clock this morning because she was awake and wandering around the house. Apparently she was very hungry and wanted—"