Cuddling

by Allan, S. H.

  “It wouldn’t replace her,” Serio quickly said, his voice taking on a stern edge.

  “No, of course not,” Arden replied. “What happened with her was tragic, and nothing will ever replace her for us. But maybe it’s time to consider being a family again.”

  Serio appeared to consider his words. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and looked to the mantel. This time Arden looked along with him and his gaze landed on a simple framed black-and-white photograph. He rose, his unsteady steps taking him over there even when he hadn’t really thought of picking up the old image. By the time he thought better of putting his hands on the photo he rarely looked at because the memories were too painful, he was already holding it and belatedly wondering why his hands were shaking.

  “She was so tiny,” he whispered, echoing Serio’s earlier words as he stared down at the grainy ultrasound. His thumb brushed against the curve of her skull. There was a time when he’d been able to see her in various stages of growing up all over their home. She’d be coloring at the table, trying on dresses in the bright-yellow bedroom they’d decorated for her, eating popcorn with her friends and watching a scary movie in the living room, or being tucked into bed. His gaze went to Serio, still kneeling on the carpet and smiling across the room at him.

  “I used to picture her,” he said, admitting something he’d never told him. “Before the accident, I saw her everywhere. And you with her.”

  “Was I good to her?” Serio asked.

  Smiling, Arden wiped at his tears. “You were great.” He put the ultrasound back and returned to him, sinking down on his butt next to him. “Really gentle. She giggled at just the sight of you.”

  Serio nodded and curled his fingers into Arden’s. “I bet you were good too.”

  Arden shrugged. “I was okay. As much as I want to be there for the baby parts, and I plan to be, the toddler times are when I think she and I would have had a lot of fun. Coloring, painting, dressing up, doing our hair….” He shook his head and pressed his lips together as his shoulders shook. “We would have been great dads.”

  “Yeah, we would have. I think we could be again, though,” Serio said, his voice sounding lighter and more hopeful than Arden had heard it in a long time.

  Arden nodded. “I think so too. I’ll call Jenny tomorrow. I haven’t spoken to her in over a month. It’ll be good to hear her voice.”

  Serio smiled. “It really will. And then we can ask her again. No pressure; she doesn’t have to go through it again. Losing the baby was rough on us, but Jenny damn near broke.”

  “Things will be different this time, though,” Arden promised him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We’ll be parents. Someday, somehow, we’ll get there. I love you, and we will make this work.”

  Serio leaned against him and gave his shoulder a light bump. “You know, I think you might just be right. And I love you too, Arden.”

  Smiling, Arden leaned his head back against the sofa and looked forward to the future for the first time in years.

  CAITLIN RICCI was fortunate growing up to be surrounded by family and teachers who encouraged her love of reading. She has always been a voracious reader and that love of the written word easily morphed into a passion for writing. If she isn’t writing, she can usually be found studying as she works toward her counseling degree. She comes from a military family and the men and women of the armed forces are close to her heart. She also enjoys gardening and horseback riding in the Colorado Rockies, which she calls home with her wonderful fiancé, their dog, and their blue-tongue skink. Her belief that there is no one true path to happily ever after runs deeply through all her stories.

  Remember When

  River Clair

  “SO. WE didn’t do anything on New Year’s Eve because you were in the middle of a project for your internship.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “And we missed Valentine’s Day because you had a paper due.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “And of course the last two hundred and seventy-six or so weekends were spent on various other projects and papers and whatever else since you started on your scholarly path to enlightenment, or ‘master’s in social work’, as you like to call it.”

  Ben waited for another distracted hum from his boyfriend, but Aaron had apparently found something extremely interesting in the ridiculously thick textbook he was reading while also balancing his laptop on his long legs and scribbling in a notepad by his side. Ben sighed and slid his bare feet across the sofa and under Aaron’s thigh. If his man was going to ignore him, at least he could help him stay warm. And why was it so damn cold anyway? This was supposed to be California, not some godforsaken cold-ass place with snow and other unmentionable horrors. Ben gave an irritated glance out the window at steady gray rain and shoved his cold toes farther under Aaron’s leg before continuing.

  “So anyway, my point, since you insist on dragging it out of me, is that a certain date is coming up, and we’re going to celebrate even if I have to hire three bears and a drag queen dressed as Goldilocks to kidnap your skinny ass for a day away.”

  Ben paused again, but there was still no response from the other end of the sofa as Aaron chewed on the cap of his pen and frowned at whatever he was reading. As irritating as it was to be ignored, Ben couldn’t help admiring the view of Aaron’s profile—high brow and long slim nose, soft thick honey-colored curls an unruly mess that Ben wanted to mess up even more. But he forced himself back to the topic at hand, determined to get Aaron’s attention.

  “Also, those three bears I mentioned?” Ben continued. “They’re coming along with us, because I’m pretty sure the five-year gift is supposed to be a big furry orgy, or at least that’s what my Gramma’s etiquette handbook said.”

  This last statement seemed to have the desired effect, because Aaron finally stopped writing and looked over at Ben with a confused expression.

  “What about your grandmother? Did you say she’s going on a date?”

  Ben couldn’t help laughing. It really wasn’t fair of him to try to get Aaron to participate in a conversation while he was studying. On the other hand, Aaron was pretty much always studying, so whatever. Ben was going to keep teasing him, but something about Aaron’s sincerely bewildered expression and the tired shadows under his beautiful brown eyes stopped him, and instead he scooted forward and pressed a kiss against Aaron’s unresisting mouth.

  “No, my precious nerd, my Gramma is very still very happily married to my grandfather, and the date I’m talking about is one for you and me. A date to celebrate a certain date of our own. Ringing any bells?”

  Aaron stared at Ben with the same intensity he had when faced with a particularly challenging test question, and Ben was just wondering how many more hints he’d have to drop when his boyfriend’s eyes widened with sudden recognition.

  “Our anniversary!” Aaron exclaimed and grinned as Ben rolled his eyes and nodded. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I swear I would have remembered, baby.”

  “Of course you would’ve,” Ben said. “Just as soon as that Google alert popped up in your e-mail.” He winked and waved away Aaron’s attempt at a protest. “But never mind that, because I want to tell you what I’ve got in mind for us to celebrate. Well, not exactly tell you, because most of it is a secret. In fact”—Ben thought for a moment—“in fact, I really can’t tell you anything, other than I’ll be picking you up after your Saturday morning class next week for a little whirlwind getaway.”

  Ben sat back to let Aaron absorb this news, but when he saw Aaron’s eyes dart to the open textbook, he clapped a hand quickly to Aaron’s mouth and spoke before Aaron could start with the excuses.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and I happen to know that you have a quiz on Tuesday and a paper due Thursday, but then you’ve got a week before anything major. And I also happen to know that you deserve a break, and we deserve to celebrate five fucking years together, and all work and no play makes Aaron a dull boy, and a stitch in time saves nine and
et cetera. And I know that I won’t take any excuses this time, so don’t even. Do not even.”

  Ben eyed Aaron warily until he felt a smile twitching under his fingers, and he drew his hand away, only to have Aaron grab it and kiss his palm.

  “No excuses, I promise. And thank you. You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”

  “Well, duh!” Ben said. “Of course I’m awesome. My boyfriend has excellent taste in men.”

  Aaron laughed, and Ben took advantage, quickly moving textbook, notepad, and laptop onto the coffee table before maneuvering himself into Aaron’s lap and silencing any potential protests with another kiss, this one with more intent behind it. There was more than one way to get warm on a cold gloomy day, and over the past few years Ben had learned how to make his boyfriend forget his studies for a while and focus on something less cerebral. He might be a lot smaller than Aaron, but it wasn’t brute strength that helped Ben get his way in these matters; it was finesse. Or at least really skillful kissing.

  Leaning back after a few moments to gauge the effect, Ben was gratified to see the heat in Aaron’s eyes and to feel Aaron’s fingers tighten on Ben’s hips, drawing him closer. He ran his fingers through Aaron’s loose ringlets—cupid hair, Ben always called it, which made Aaron roll his eyes and counter that it was stupid hair. Ben had realized long ago that his boyfriend might be smart in many ways but he was also amazingly dumb in others, such as recognizing how hot he was. Which is where Ben came in. And soon enough the rain and the cold were swept away by the heat building between them, and textbooks were forgotten as they studied each other’s bodies with hands that were knowledgeable but still always finding new things to learn.

  TEN days later, Ben watched Aaron walk out of the campus library chatting animatedly with a group of students, and he leaned on the horn to get his boyfriend’s attention. Aaron’s face lit up when he spotted the car, and he waved quickly to his classmates and left them behind as he broke into a trot. The autumn sun turned his hair gold, and he was wearing the soft red sweater Ben had gifted him that morning, which looked fabulous on him, if Ben did say so himself.

  “Hey.” Aaron grinned as he got into the car, wrestling off his bulging backpack. Ben reached over to help him, hefted it into the backseat, and leaned over the console to greet him with a hearty kiss.

  “Hey to you. Have I told you how smoking you look in red?” Ben waved away the self-deprecating answer Aaron was ready to give. “Whatever, whatever, just accept it.”

  “Well, I got a ton of compliments on the sweater, so thank you,” Aaron said. “And you’re looking quite delicious yourself, my love,” Aaron swept Ben with an appreciative glance that warmed Ben’s heart. “I love that blue shirt on you. Matches your eyes.”

  “So you’ve said. But are we going to sit here and pay each other compliments or get this show on the road?” Ben teased. “Okay, listen—here’s the rules for today: no studying, no thinking about school, no worrying about tests. This day is about you and me. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Aaron agreed readily, and Ben, satisfied, patted his head and kissed him again. He glanced into the rearview mirror and ran a quick hand through his own dark hair, checking to see if all the effort he’d put into crafting soft spikes hadn’t been wasted; then he checked to make sure Aaron was wearing his seat belt and pulled away from the curb.

  “So where are we going?” Aaron asked.

  But Ben refused to tell him, so Aaron had to be content with waiting until they got to their first destination. About twenty minutes later, they reached the outskirts of the city, and Ben pulled into a small parking lot. Aaron raised his eyebrows.

  “The antiques store where I used to work?”

  Ben grinned at him. “Okay, so here’s the big reveal: the theme of the day is ‘a walk down memory lane’, and we’re going to revisit some of the places where we had relationship milestones.”

  “Milestones?”

  “Yeah, like significant moments. The memories that really stand out, you know?”

  “Okay.” Aaron nodded. “That sounds fantastic. I hope you remember that I have a really shitty memory, though.”

  Ben laughed. “Don’t I know it. But I promise, these are the real highlights. Unforgettable. And this little antiques store is the site of memory number one. What happened here?”

  “Well, I worked here for a couple of years,” Aaron said.

  “And?” Ben prompted.

  “Um, and then I got a better job with potential for advancement?”

  Ben rolled his eyes and got out of the car, beckoning Aaron to follow. They walked into the large cluttered store. Mrs. Eggers was at the front counter finishing up with a customer, but she exclaimed at the sight of Aaron, and Ben waited patiently as they hugged and chatted excitedly with each other. When after a few minutes another customer walked up to the register carrying a ghastly bronze lamp, Ben took his opportunity and pulled Aaron away from his former boss and through the warrenlike aisles of the store, stopping at last in a little tucked-away section filled with overflowing shelves of antique jars, bottles, and glassware of every imaginable size and color. He stopped and gazed at Aaron expectantly, but Aaron still looked clueless.

  “Babe, this is where we met!” Ben exclaimed. “Remember? I came into the store to get out of the rain, and I had no intention of buying anything, but then here you were unpacking a box of old medicine jars, and you had a smudge of dust on your nose and cobwebs in your hair and those bent wire-rim glasses, and I about died from how sexy you were.”

  “But we met at that club,” Aaron said with a puzzled look. “I was staring at you for hours and trying to work up the balls to talk to you when you finally put me out of my misery and came over.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, “but my opening line was ‘You sold me a hundred dollars’ worth of glass balls I don’t need, so I think you need to come over to my place and tell me what to do with them.’ Meaning we’d met already.”

  “That was a good line.” Aaron smiled but then shook his head and admitted, “I didn’t remember you, though. Glass fishing floats are popular.”

  “But you said, ‘Oh yeah, of course I remember you’!” Ben frowned.

  Aaron flushed. “I thought it would be rude to say I didn’t. And you were so gorgeous, I have no idea why I couldn’t. I guess I get into a work zone and not much registers other than what I’m doing.”

  Ben sighed. This wasn’t quite what he had envisioned for the beginning of their walk down memory lane, since Aaron seemed to be walking down some other lane entirely. But Ben was nothing if not adaptable, so he formulated a quick plan B and led Aaron out of the store.

  “Where to now?” Aaron asked once they were in the car again.

  “The club where we met, of course,” Ben put air quotes on the word “met” but winked at Aaron amicably as he started the car. It took a while to get there through weekend city traffic, but they finally found the street, and Ben slowed, looking for the entrance.

  “It was right between a Laundromat and a Thai place,” he murmured, scanning the storefronts. “Right there. Or maybe not.” Because the Laundromat and the Thai restaurant were there, but the space that had once been a slightly seedy but still happening nightclub had been transformed, with a new large plate-glass window revealing an interior very pink and very frilly and very unclublike.

  “Mimi’s Cupcake Boutique,” Aaron read from the sign. “Huh. Well, cupcakes are big, I guess.”

  “Honey, cupcakes are so over,” Ben said. “It’s all about petits fours now. I hope Mimi has a contingency plan.” He frowned and stared at the store as if he could will it to change back to what it had been. “And she’s not even open, so we can’t go in and reenact how we got together. Your version of it, anyway.” He couldn’t quite hide a note of reproach in his words.

  “I’m really sorry, Ben,” Aaron said.

  “Nah, it’s okay.” Ben tried to regroup. “How about we head out? I’ve got us reservations for lunch at a place I know you
’ll remember.” Aaron’s quiet “I hope so” in response didn’t sound very confident, but Ben ignored that and navigated them out of the city and northwestward. By the time they reached the coast, they were both in good spirits again. It was impossible not to be in good spirits on such a beautiful day—the kind of early-spring afternoon that felt almost like summer—brilliant blue cloudless sky and sparkling water like liquid diamonds stretching across the horizon. That is, until they pulled into the parking lot of the Bistro by the Waves.

  “Hey, it’s the cute little restaurant we’ve been meaning to get back to!” Aaron said happily. “And, uh, it looks like the entire staff is coming out to greet us.”

  “And all the customers too,” Ben said. “Fire drill?”

  As if on cue, they heard the sound of approaching sirens, and by the time they got out of the car, three fire trucks had roared up to the restaurant.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Aaron said, and Ben had to agree as the firefighters dashed out of their vehicles and into the restaurant. A few minutes later, the owner came out looking frazzled and explained to the gathered crowd that something had gone wrong with the ventilation system, and he needed to close until it could be repaired. The boyfriends looked at each other as the couple dozen or so customers closed in around the owner, some commiserating, some griping, and by unspoken agreement hurried to their car and headed back onto the road ahead of the pack. Since the next destination Ben had planned was not too far from the restaurant, their lunch options were limited to the handful of clam shacks and fish-and-chip shops on this stretch of coast. Again, not quite what Ben had imagined when he was planning this day. But Aaron refused to be drawn into griping about plans gone awry, and it was impossible for Ben to stay annoyed when his boyfriend seemed as happy as a child on vacation.