by Beth Michele
“I would have.” Kissing the tip of her nose, I brush my fingers across her cheek. “For you, I would have.” I pull away just enough for her to see my eyes. “God, I missed you so much.” My thumb wanders over her brow, the curve of her jaw, the outline of her smile. “You’re my sweetheart, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nod, cupping a hand around her neck and dragging her lips to mine, kissing her slow and deep—with all the tenderness she deserves, and all the love that’s in my heart. The slide of our lips. The tangle of our tongues. The taste of her releases a hunger and I urge her body closer, one hand slipping through her hair, guiding her mouth. She moans and I think I do, too. I’m not sure because I’m lost in her taste, her scent, the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingers. Her hands roam my back, grazing the waistband of my jeans and I arch against her, needing her to touch me. Gradually, I become aware of the sound of voices nearby and the smell of rotten garbage, and think to myself, not here. I don’t want to do this here.
“Ember,” I pant against her lips. “Come home with me?” She gifts me with a silent nod that completes a scenario I’ve imagined in my head a million times in the last three years—and I’m high as a fucking kite. My hand finds its way to hers. “Let’s go, Mickey.”
THE CAB SWERVES through traffic but Vance’s hand remains tightly wrapped around mine. My head rests on his shoulder, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm. Every now and then, I glance up at him. His profile is relaxed, mouth curled into a smile. Me, I’m smiling so big my face hurts. I haven’t felt this happy in… over three years to be exact. As these thoughts dominate my mind, I snuggle closer. I want to make sure he’s real, that I’m not dreaming.
“Are you trying to burrow under my skin?” he teases, and I laugh, hooking my leg over his thigh.
“I might be. Is that a problem for you?”
He slips a finger under my chin, bringing my eyes up to his. All playfulness dissipates as his gaze sears mine. “No, Mickey. It’s not. Considering you’ve been under my skin since the moment I met you.” He kisses me once and I sigh, laying my head back on his shoulder.
The taxi pulls up to his apartment building and Vance whips out a fifty dollar bill, paying the cabbie without bothering to wait for change.
“You gave him a forty dollar tip,” I marvel as he leads me inside and up to his floor. “He looked like he just won the lottery.”
“Good. Now he knows how I fucking feel.” He unlocks the door, grinning as we step over the threshold. “This is it.” My eyes wander the room consisting of a long black sofa and matching chair, both covered with clothes and remote controls. A rectangular table in the corner is crammed with computer equipment. Framed photographs and paintings I assume were created by his mom fill a second wall.
“Wow.” I look back at him. “It’s… it’s… sparse.”
He chuckles softly. “There you are.” He smiles, eyes glittering. “God, I missed that. The way you cut right to the chase.” We stare at each other for the space of several breaths before I turn toward the wall filled with paintings. I edge closer, wanting to examine their finer detail. “Those are some of my mom’s pieces.”
“I could tell right away. They’re reminiscent of the style I saw when we visited her.” The soft palette of a beach landscape draws my focus. “You must really miss her.”
“I do.” Vance crosses the room to stand beside me, his gaze on the picture. “It was really hard for her in the end. Her muscles had weakened to the point where she couldn’t even feed herself. It was… painful… to see her like that.” His breathing changes and I let my hand find his, interlocking our fingers. “After a while everything became too much for her. Her immune system had weakened and she ended up contracting pneumonia.” His eyes drift to mine, a flash of sadness amidst the calm blue. “The mom that I knew and loved was long gone. Her spirit was already somewhere else, you know? And… I’m glad she’s not suffering anymore.” He clears his throat and gestures toward the sofa. “Sit down for a sec.”
“Okay.” I push aside clothes and wipe the wetness gathering in the corner of my eye.
Vance returns carrying the painting from his house that I admired all those years ago. Setting it against the couch, he smiles. “This is for you.”
“What? No. I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you can. I want you to have it.” He takes my hand in both of his and gazes down at me. The unshed emotion in his expression makes my heart want to climb out of my chest. “You and my mom, you would’ve really liked each other. I can picture the two of you talking about art for hours at a time. I think it would make her happy for you to have this.” He stares at his thumb trailing back and forth over my knuckles. “She may not have known who you were that day. But she took to you.” His eyes find mine. “It’s kind of hard not to.” He pulls his hand away to bring it to my cheek. “You have this way of breaking down walls, Ember. You fucking took a sledgehammer to mine.” Vance shakes his head on a quiet laugh. “All those days of not living caught up to me when I met you. But you… you opened my eyes and forced me to look. You made me want to live. You saved me, Ember.”
A loud breath shuffles between us as he exhales. “I’m through letting fear and worry consume me. I’m done with it. I want my story to be different. I mean, I still have to get those tests done periodically and that won’t change. But… if everything goes to hell, I want you by my side… until you can’t be anymore. And I know that’s selfish. But I want you, Ember.” His voice softens, eyes fixated on mine. “There’s nothing in my life I want more than I want you.”
“Show me,” I whisper.
Vance hauls me to my feet, gripping my cheeks as his lips crash against mine. Dizzy with bottled-up emotion, we’re like two meteors colliding. My hands on his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders. His tongue in my mouth, licking across my jaw, sliding down my neck. My fingers wander higher, slipping into his long hair and tugging gently. He groans, spurring me to do it again before some other force takes over me—driven by his clean shaven smell, the taste of him, by how much I’ve missed him. I spin us around and push him down on the couch, straddling his legs and feeling the hardness between them. His tongue plunges deep into my mouth as if he’s trying to crawl inside of me. And God, do I want him inside of me—I want him everywhere. I rub against him to show him how much and he growls, the sound vibrating between us as our kiss grows more urgent. My hands drift under his t-shirt. The solid planes of muscle move beneath my fingers and I’m itching to touch him, to put my lips all over his skin.
“Vance.” I break the kiss, panting, and yank on the edge of his shirt. “Take this off.”
“Anything for you, Mickey.” His lips curve into the sexiest grin and my heart gallops in my chest. I can hardly fathom it—the want I feel for him—the love I have for him. I touch a finger to my swollen lips as he grasps the seam of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. My eyes drop, drinking in the ripples and dips of his chest, the light trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. But then I stop. My gaze flashing wide on a small tattoo of Mickey Mouse under his ribs, my name in script wrapped around him as if in orbit. My mouth opens on a gasp. I reach out with a shaky hand to gently trace the outline of the curled letters.
“What… when… did you get that?”
“The day after I left you.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch soft. “I wanted a reminder of the girl I loved… and what I gave up—”
“No one has ever done anything like this for me before.” I don’t wait for a response before I grab onto the material of my top, sliding it up and over my shoulders. I’m not wearing a bra and Vance’s eyes fall to my chest, my nipples drawing tight under his gaze. He reaches out, gliding the backs of his fingers over the hard tip and I shiver.
“Fucking stunning,” he murmurs, leaning up and dragging his tongue across the firm peak, making me tremble. His wet lips cling first to one nipple, then the other, until I’m writhing ag
ainst him.
“Vance… bedroom,” I moan, arching my breast into his mouth, my head lolling back. “I want….” My words trail off as his warm breath gusts over my skin.
“What do you want, Ember?”
I let my brain float down to earth and peer at his face, alight with anticipation. “I want you to do dirty things to me.”
He tucks his lip between his teeth then lets it go. “How dirty?” He grins.
“Filthy.” He tries to lift me up then, but the position we’re in is awkward and we end up tipping over onto the carpet, laughing. I grab for the button on his jeans, wanting to rip it from the hole.
“Hey,” he reaches between us to latch onto my wrist, “I want to take it slow. We have a lot of time to make up for.”
But then I surprise myself, and I think him. “We can go slow later. Right now I can’t wait.” I swing my leg out from underneath his and roll over, pushing myself to a standing position. “I don’t know my way around this place, so you’ll have to show me where your bedroom is. And make it fast.”
Thrusting himself up from the floor, he catches me off guard by scooping me under my knees and into his arms. His breath hovers an inch from my mouth. “I want to do everything imaginable to you tonight. Are you ready for that?” Fevered eyes dart to my lips, staring at them until I’m about to combust.
“Vance.” I’m practically begging now. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”
He smirks, setting me down. “I’m going to do a lot more than kiss you, Mickey.”
“Well?”
“Wait a minute.” He draws back, teasing. “You’re not using me are you? Because I don’t do one-night stands.”
I lift my chin, an uncontrollable smile tipping my lips. “That’s good. Because I’m not a one-night stand kind of a girl.”
“Oh yeah?” He matches the challenge in my eyes. “What kind of a girl are you?”
My fingertips drift over the hair at his temple, brushing it aside. “I’m a forever kind of girl.”
“Well, you’re in luck then.” He catches my hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “It just so happens I’m in the market for one of those.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re really doing this,” Julian whispers so only I can hear. “And I can’t believe I’m actually going to witness it.” Glancing about the living room of Chris’s house, we watch our dad and Ember’s mom milling around each other in a pattern of subtle avoidance. “This is kind of like an intervention, isn’t it?” he whispers again, cupping a hand over my ear.
“Yeah, complete with Twinkies,” I add, grinning at the arrangement of pastries Ember bought at the bakery. The platter at the end of the table she stacked high with golden Twinkies just for me. I fucking love her.
Julian looks over at Ember, smiling at us as she carries another tray from the kitchen. “God that girl loves you. I can practically feel it seeping from her pores. And I don’t get it,” he muses. “I’m the charming one.” I shoot him a mock glare. “Kidding, kidding.”
Our father rounds the corner and runs right smack into Ember’s mom. He clears his throat and stares at her sweater, muttering, “Dolores.”
“Charles,” she responds, finding a spot on his shoe that needs polishing.
“Well, that was awkward,” Julian remarks, and I chuckle.
“Nothing wrong with a little awkward. Anyhow, Dad mentioned things were fine. They’re cordial now, and he’s dating that woman from work so everything is cool.” I glance up to Dad heading in our direction, his stare determined and focused entirely on me. “Maybe I spoke too fucking soon.”
“Vance, can I talk to you upstairs for a minute?”
“Uh, sure Dad.” I glare back at a smug Julian as I follow Dad upstairs, wondering what this is all about. He makes a right into the guest room at the end of the hall and gestures to a winged-back chair in the corner.
“Sit down, son.” With a smile that doesn’t look quite right on his mouth, he leans against a nearby dresser, biting at the corner of his lip. In a span of about ten seconds, he crosses and uncrosses his arms four times.
“Dad, what is it? Just… spit it out already. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
Lifting a hand to drag it through his thick hair, he moves to the other side of the dresser to retrieve a package wrapped in brown paper. He holds it up and places it on my lap, coughing into his closed fist. A white envelope is taped to the top with my name.
My eyes flick to the handwriting then back to him. “What is this?”
“Well… when I was cleaning out the basement last week, there was a big box in the back that somehow I’d missed when I was packing your mother’s things up.” He swallows anxiously, his voice unsteady. “I found this inside. Initially, I was going to ship it to you in New York. But then figured since I was seeing you, I’d just bring it.
“Okaaaay.”
“Right.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” His eyes dart around the room before he edges toward the door.
“Dad, wait,” I call out. He turns around, hesitance spreading across his face. “Stay.” Then I clarify. “If you want to, I mean.”
“Thank you,” he utters on an exhale of breath. He takes a seat on the bed, watching me as I rip apart the paper. When all the wrapping has fallen to the carpet, I stare at the painting of my mother and me, and my throat burns.
“This is that picture,” I say softly. “The one that—”
“I took of you and your mother right after you came back from the karate tournament. You were about twelve then, I think. You were both all smiles, and she was so proud of you. I guess she decided to paint it.”
I trace over the colors and lines with my fingertip, the oval shape of my mother’s face, her steel blue eyes that resembled mine. “I don’t get how she always captured so much feeling in her paintings. She looks so—”
“In love with everything about her son,” he interjects and my head snaps up, meeting his determined gaze. “She loved you so much, Vance. The boy that you were, the man she knew you would become. And you did her proud, son.” He takes two steps to reach me, clasping a hand on my shoulder. “You did us both proud.” Clearing what I gather is emotion from his throat, he ambles toward the door.
“Hey, Dad?”
One foot in the hallway, he stops at the sound of my voice. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.” I catch his smile in the air before he disappears.
Laying the painting against the closet door, I tear off the white envelope addressed in my mother’s perfect script. I thumb it open and lean back against the chair.
Dear Vance,
I wanted to write this letter to you before my hand got too shaky and my memory decided to leave me again. Because as much as it scares me, I know that it will. I just don’t know when.
But I needed you to know that while my mind will eventually fail me, my heart will carry you in it wherever I go. It will remember for me the things that I no longer can—like that freckle under your eye that you used to try to rub off when you were little because you thought it was dirt, or your affinity for hiding Twinkies where you thought I’d never find them. The pride in your smile when you got your black belt, and the absolute delight on your face when your father bought you your first guitar.
What will stick with me most though, I think, is the way you always looked at me with wonder and interest as I read to you for hours at a time. Even when my throat was hoarse and I thought I couldn’t go on, the moment the word ‘more’ left your mouth, I somehow found the strength to keep going. I hope someday you’ll pass that gift on to your own children.
I want that same strength for you now… to keep going. Don’t live your life worrying. Keep looking forward my sweet boy because tomorrow will always come. And I wish you a million of those tomorrows filled with all of the happiness that you brought into my life. Being your mother brought me more joy than you will ever know.
I love you,
> Mom
P.S. Go easy on your Dad, okay? He’s going to slip up and make mistakes. Help him learn from them. Oh, and eat a carrot every now and then. I promise it won’t hurt you.
Tears soaking the paper, I stare at my mother’s words. Grateful for the time I did have with her—for everything she taught me—for her love that is so much a part of who I am. My eyes fall closed as I press the letter to my chest, letting go of the past and embracing my future. Ready to move forward. Done wishing I could live my life in reverse.
“Vance?” At the sound of Ember’s voice, I open my eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” A smile appears out of nowhere, surprising even me. “I think I am.” As I hold out my arms, Ember walks over and falls into my lap, gazing at the letter. “From my mom,” I point out, and she kisses away the tears from my cheek.
“Your dad told me to come up. He thought you might need me.”
“Did he now?” I snake my arms around her waist, wanting nothing more than to feel her body against mine.
“Yes. He loves you, you know.” Ember says this as if she’s known it all along and I’m just catching up. Maybe I am. It takes a while to catch up to life sometimes.
“I do know,” I admit, caressing the small of her back. “Even though it took me a while to figure it out because I can be fucking pigheaded when I want to be.”
Her lips tuck into a smirk. “You? Nooooo.” She brings a hand around to cradle my head and draws me closer. “So are you ready for this?”
“I am,” I reply, peppering kisses to the corner of her soft, pliable mouth. “Thinking of backing out?”
“Nope, I’m good.” She nods her head toward the door. “But I think we should go eat and get some fortification. We’re going to need it.”
I grin, giving her ass a squeeze. “I’m sorry, all I heard was fornication.”
“Oh God.” She laughs. “There will be plenty of that… after.”