Now the woman in the mirror looks at me wistfully and I grab for a tissue out of the box on the counter before her image blurs past recognition.
I can't believe how lucky I am.
Dabbing at my eyes, I do my best to fix my makeup while I think about how well things have turned out.
What started as a simple desire to not die alone has turned into finding someone I really connect with.
Nathan and I have spent so much time on the phone since we met, I already know I'm a half step away from head over heels. And the chemistry is off the charts.
The woman in the mirror blushes as I remember just how good Nathan felt a few minutes ago. All of him. His mouth on mine, his hands all over my body, his fingers sliding into me while I wrapped my hand around his cock.
We weren't taking our time and I didn't want to.
I wanted to feel him inside me. Filling me up, the heat of his skin on mine as we moved together.
Thinking about how close I was to making love to a man for the first time in about forever causes new heat to rise in my cheeks while the memory of how much I'm looking forward to being alone with my fiance again has heat rushing to other places as well.
A quick splash of cold water on my face doesn't do anything to take the flush out of my cheeks any more than I expect a cold rinse in the shower would kill the unsatisfied feeling between my legs.
"...and whip up a batch of okra. Should be ready by 6."
When I join Nathan in the kitchen, I find him staring at Helen's back as she stands at the sink with the water running.
She's babbling about vegetables as I slide up beside him and his arm slips around my shoulders.
"She says she's making us dinner," he whispers at me with a look on his face that tells me he thinks that sounds about as great as I do.
"Okra?" I mouth silently.
Nathan's face scrunches up and he shakes his head. So I take it Helen can't make okra any more edible than my grandmother could.
"Tiffany! I'm so glad you were able to come back out to see us again before the wedding." Helen doesn't seem the type to gush, but here she is, gushing over me when she turns around and sees me standing beside Nathan when she turns off the kitchen faucet and turns around to grab a dish towel. "I was just telling Nathan that I have dinner planned already. I've got a roast in the oven already and I'm just about to get some okra going."
Helen doesn't give me a chance to respond before she's shooing us out of her way so she can take over the kitchen.
"Does she do this often?" I ask Nathan as he aims me through the French doors off the dining room and onto the back patio.
Nathan gives me a bewildered and slightly helpless look. "That woman has never shown up in my home to make me a meal in all the years I've lived in this house," he tells me. "She must really want you to stick around."
I can't help but laugh.
"Then she shouldn't make me eat okra," I tell him seriously.
Nathan
By the time Helen's voice calls out from the kitchen window, I've forgotten that's why I was out here giving Tiffany the tour of the property to begin with.
"Sounds like it's dinner time," Tiffany says when Helen's voice breaks up a perfectly good kiss.
We've walked the perimeter of the section of land that the house sits on, I showed her the man cave-- including the BMW GS-1200 motorcycle that Tiffany tells me she's not sure she wants a ride on-- and I showed her where my neighbor's garden crosses the property line while it was safe to do it with said neighbor currently busy trespassing in my kitchen.
I've given Tiffany a retelling of my life story, since she's heard it all three times already on the phone, and she was just telling me about her first kiss which, naturally, led to her latest one, when Helen started yelling at us to come in and eat.
"Do you think she's going to stay and watch a movie with us after dinner too?" Tiffany chides me with a light elbow jab to my ribs as we head inside.
It's pretty obvious that I'm none too impressed with Helen's timing for being neighborly.
"She's lonely," I say out loud, more to remind myself to have patience than to explain the obvious to Tiffany. "I think she's excited to have another woman around. She always loved it when the girls were out to visit but now she's pretty much stuck with just me. I think she needs better company than I provide."
"I'm sure you provide excellent company," Tiffany assures me as her arm wraps around my waist.
I sure as hell plan on providing this woman with excellent company, I think as I pull her against me as we walk.
Of course, I'd been planning an entirely different level of excellent tonight than eating fried okra with the neighbor like we're still being chaperoned.
"Oh."
The shock in Tiff's voice as she walks through the French doors a few steps ahead of me has me quick to see what made her stop so quickly.
The lights are off in the house. There's a warm glow coming from the formal dining room on the other side of the kitchen and as we move closer I can see the table has been set with good China that I don't own.
Candles light the room with a soft flicker from the centerpiece as well as a pair of sconces on the wall that I don't think I ever had candles in before.
There are only two place settings on the table, I notice, and not a sign of the woman who took it upon herself to not only prepare a meal she knows I could never make myself, but also to donate her own good dishes and silverware to the effort.
"OK, I forgive her for the okra." I find Tiff in the kitchen, inspecting the contents of the pots left warming on the stove.
My kitchen has never smelled this good.
"Pot roast," Tiffany points at a roasting pan as she rifles through drawers till she finds pot-holders and serving utensils, "mashed potatoes, gravy," she lists, pointing at each dish as I take the pot holders and take things to the table.
"Okra," she wrinkles her nose and waves at the skillet on the stove top in a manner that clearly indicates I shouldn't bother moving it.
"Salad," she adds as she reads a note on the counter and turns to the fridge to retrieve a bowl.
"Ooh," as she takes the bowl of salad out of the refrigerator and hands it to me to take to the table, she leans in and inspects something under a sheet of tin foil. "Is there such a thing as blueberry shortcake?" She asks before closing the door of the fridge and joining me in the dining room.
"Blueberry shortcake?"
"That's what it tastes like." She gives me a little smirk.
"Did you stick your finger in the dessert?" I demand playfully as I begin plating her dinner for her.
"Well, I'm not confessing to anything mind you, but if that's going to be an issue for you, you need to let me know before I get unpacked."
Dinner is delicious. I had no idea Helen actually knew how to cook all the vegetables she grows on my property.
I snuck some of the okra onto my plate when Tiffany wasn't looking. When she saw it there next to the potatoes, she gave me a hurt look, "Am I going to have to learn to make that stuff?" She wanted to know.
"Don't worry," I promised, "I won't miss it if it's not there."
After dinner, I clear the table while Tiff dishes the blueberry shortcake into a couple of my plain cereal bowls from the cabinet while I carefully wash Helen's good China-- after Tiffany told me not to put it in the dishwasher.
We stand in the kitchen, continuing our conversation while we enjoy the dessert, commenting on our surprise that Helen hadn't brought dessert cups for us as well.
We found them sitting next to the coffee maker as we set the bowls in the sink.
"Do you want to watch a movie or are you ready for bed?" I ask after breaking a long kiss.
Tiffany looks up at me, her arms wrapped around my waist, her lips puffy and pink from kissing.
I'm not sure if I want her to say yes so we can make out on the couch in the den like kids or if I want her to beg me to take her to bed.
Her tongue darts between her lips and
licks along the seam thoughtfully as she looks up at me.
Please let her beg me to take her. Bed, couch, right here on the kitchen island, anywhere.
"Well," she draws out thoughtfully, "that depends on whether we're both going to the same bed or not?"
I don't need to be told twice.
Tiffany
I can't believe I said that. It's not like me to be so bold. Actually-- I ponder my thought as Nathan's lips meet mine-- I guess I don't really know if it's like me or not. I haven't had an opportunity to be this sort of bold in a long time.
Wrapping my arms around Nathan's neck and letting him carry me down the hall to his room without breaking our kiss, I decide it is like me. I like the idea of being the sort of woman who speaks up for what she wants when she wants it. Even when what she wants is decidedly on the naughty side.
It's hard to believe I've been here for less than a full day. We never got around to the full tour of the house earlier. My first glance at Nathan's room doesn't make much of an impression.
Maybe that's because neither of us bother turning on a light as we crash through the doorway as one. Or maybe it's because I tend to keep my eyes closed when a man is kissing me. Or maybe it's because when I do open my eyes, the only thing I look at is Nathan.
We lay down on the bed together, this time it's with more care and less frantic crash than before. I move into the middle of the bed so that my feet aren't hanging off the edge and Nathan joins me, our shoes landing on the floor in a series of soft thuds on the way.
The house is so quiet. I can hear crickets chirping outside through the open window. Beside that, the only sounds I can hear over the wild beating of my own heart are the soft moans I make as Nathan's mouth makes its way down my throat to my breasts.
His hands move over my body, making their way down to the button on my pants. My clothes don't impede his progress and somewhere between my sharp cry and arched back when Nathan's teeth pinch my nipple, he has my pants undone and pushed down my hips as his fingers slide under the silky panel that's standing between him and what he's after.
With a wiggle of my hips and a little help from Nathan's other hand, we manage to get my pants out of the way and onto the floor. As soon as they hit the carpet with a soft rustling sound, Nathan's hands move up my thighs and trace the crease where they meet. My back arches again as his breath lands hot against the wetness there.
Impatient fingers tug at my panties, pulling them free of my body and tossing them somewhere near the pile on the floor made up of all the other clothes we don't need right now. Then his hands push my thighs wide and I feel his mouth on me with nothing left between us.
Nathan's tongue glides through my folds, teasing my clit till I have one hand clutching at the sheets above my head and the other fisted in his hair.
I don't realize how tightly my fingers are wound in his hair till the room stops spinning and I manage to remember how to open my eyes and breathe at the same time again.
My grip loosens and Nathan takes his chance to kiss his way back up my stomach, stopping to pay attention to each nipple on his journey. His lips lock, soft but firm, over first one and then the other until both buds are hardened again while I writhe beneath him in an attempt to coax him inside me.
"Keep doing that and I'm likely to give in."
The words are a muffled vibration at the base of my throat and they do absolutely nothing to stop me from squirming till I feel the head of his cock pressed into my slick folds.
Nathan groans as he moves his hips, sliding his hard length along my seam, drawing out the sweet torture till I can't take it anymore.
"Please." It takes so much effort to drag the word from my lungs.
His mouth seizes mine in a hungry kiss but that's not the answer I want.
My hips tilt, my body on fire, my thoughts nothing but a blur of need and want as my fingers grip his waist while he finally enters me.
Inch by inch, Nathan slowly sinks into me. He's so thick I can feel my walls being pushed open as he fills me.
I gasp when he's all the way in, my fingers tightening in his sides, grateful that he pauses to let me catch my breath.
Maybe I say something. All my ears hear is the sound of my blood rushing through my veins and my ragged gasping for air between my moans, but somewhere through the fog of the here and now my brain seems to register something resembling words.
For a second, Nathan's eyes meet mine in the dim light leaking in from the hallway. His mouth drops open like he's about to say something but I don't want to talk.
Sliding my hands up his back, I grip his shoulders and I hear Nathan grind out a coarse, "Fuck, you feel good," as he begins thrusting.
At first his movements are slowly and rhythmic and moving with him is like a languid slow dance that I never want to end. But soon I feel the urgency building somewhere deep inside me and I'm the one setting the pace.
Nathan's thrusts speed up to match my movements and then I'm lost. Tumbling through nothingness with only the sound of Nathan's breathing to guide me back from the void before I feel his arms tighten around me. One deep thrust and he freezes in place. I can feel him swell momentarily, and then he fills me with heat as he pours deep inside me.
It takes us both a minute to recover enough to even find the energy to collapse beside each other.
Nathan pulls me into his arms and rolls me to my side, giving me no choice but to lay my head against his chest. The sound of his heart still beating wildly at first before it starts to settle into a slow, steady rhythm beneath my head.
"You're an amazing woman, Mrs. Henries-Rowe," he murmurs against my hair before planting a couple of firm but gentle kisses on the top of my head.
I can't help but smile at the way he insists on using my full name so often. When we first met, I was worried my married name would be a bitter reminder to him that he was getting a second-hand bride. Instead, it's become a sweet endearment that makes me feel like he respects my history.
It only makes it easier to fall in love with this man.
That's what I'm thinking as I drift off to sleep in the arms of my future husband for the first time.
Nathan
I don't understand what went wrong.
Raven's email stopped making sense 2 days ago, somewhere after about the thirtieth time I read it. Even after calling and hearing Raven explain it to me in plain language, I'm still having a hard time accepting what she told me.
Tiffany called it off.
It just doesn't make sense.
Tiff called off the arrangement and she didn't even tell me herself.
I knew something had changed when she said she had to get back home a few days before she'd planned to leave.
We'd spent almost 2 weeks together. Everything was perfect. Laughing and talking, making love and making plans for the future I thought she was eager to share with me.
Everything was set to go for the proposal too. A real, official will you marry me that I had worked on for weeks. The girls were going to come out so they could meet Tiffany in person and everything.
I stare at the ring that I'm holding like I've never seen it before. It's so small in my clumsy mitts, it feels like I might break it if I hold it too tight.
It's not fancy. Not like one of the glittery things I had my eye on when I first started shopping. If it had been up to me, I'd have picked out the shiniest ring with the biggest damn rock the store could put in it.
Raven put me in touch with Tiffany's assistant, Bethany when I asked for hints on what Tiff might want. That girl did nothing but gush about how romantic our whole set up was for a solid hour before I got any helpful information from her.
In the end, between Beth's input and some advice from Summer and Dani based on what they'd learned about Tiffany during all the interviews, I ended up with the delicate band between my fingers now.
It's platinum, with some filigree on the sides and a traditional round stone in the middle. Actually, the jeweler had a lot to sa
y about the cut and what makes it special, but to me it's round. It looks like something that belongs on a fairy princess's finger. Exactly what Tiffany deserves.
Slipping the thing back into it's box and snapping the lid shut, I set it on my dresser and clench my jaw to fight back the surge of emotion threatening to makes its way to the surface.
I ain't the sort to get all blubbery. I'm more the sort that sets his mind on something and figures out how to make it happen.
So I make my way through the house that suddenly feels even emptier than it was before I started down this crazy arranged marriage path, I head right through the French doors and make a beeline toward the back corner of my lot.
"Have you talked to her since she left?" I'm still 20 yards from Helen when I start talking.
"I'm fine, thank you very much, how are you?" Helen quips sarcastically without looking up from her weeding.
"Jilted. What the hell happened? Everything was going fine till you got your hooks into my woman."
That might not have come out as light-hearted as I'd meant it to.
Helen stops what she's doing. She sits up straight on her up-turned bucket, wipes the moist dirt off her hands on the overalls, and stares up at me from under the wide brim of her straw hat.
The look on her face tells me she didn't know. It also tells me that the news might be about as upsetting to my elderly neighbor as it has been to me.
"What're you going on about now?" Helen sounds cautious, like it's an answer she doesn't really want to hear but it's plain that she's trying to make sense of what I'm saying.
"Tiffany called off the engagement," I tell her as plainly as I know how. "She went home early. Said she needed to get back to the store but I think it was just an excuse...everything was fine till she spent the day with you."
I feel like an asshole, I know it sounds like I'm blaming Helen. Fuck it. Maybe I am. It's the truth; Tiffany talked to Beth every day and every day we discussed how impressed she was with Beth's ability to handle the store.
A Sensible Arrangement: A Modern Match-Maker Romance Page 8