“I’d love some,” and I smiled as I stood up.
As I turned to her, she stood there holding Memphis’s hand.
“When the kids were young, they all looked forward to Christmas. When The Day finally arrived, all of them ripped into their presents like there was no tomorrow, except Irish. He opened one present at a time, closely examining each gift, before moving on to the next one. The other three kids all finished opening presents and there sat Irish with a stack of unopened ones. I always thought that he wanted the day to last, so he’d tried to stretch it out as long as he could. I believe Irish is so happy with you that he’s afraid to let his Christmas end but he’ll get over that, Jurnee. Just be patient with him.”
I watched Memphis nod his head and then stand up. We all walked back to the house in silence. London was still watching television and Irish was sitting in a chair beside his brother. He smiled at me when our eyes met and walked toward me. I was almost to the table when he reached for me and gave me a guarded little hug as if he was unsure whether or not I was angry with him.
He looked into my eyes, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
I reached for him and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Irish,” was all I said.
* * *
When we got home, Irish began gathering all of our things that were going with the moving truck. It was going to be here at six am and Irish’s dad was going to take us to the airport at nine o’clock. We decided that the Mustang would be towed by the moving truck, rather than be driven to San Francisco. Furniture deliveries were going to start at our new house after twelve noon and everything was precisely worked out almost to the minute. Irish was good at planning, me, not so much. I was more spontaneous and always seemed to work best under a little pressure as long as it didn’t happen before my morning coffee. Maybe that’s what makes us a good team, I thought. I gave Irish a kiss and went upstairs to change my clothes, throwing on a long button-down night shirt and brushing my teeth. When I reached the top step of the staircase, I heard Irish’s voice. He was singing the words to a familiar song I hadn’t heard him sing, only play on his guitar. I quietly sat down and listened to his voice.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.
It’s not warm when she’s away.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,
And she’s always gone too long
Anytime she goes away.
I stood up and took a few extra slow steps down the stairs so I could see him. He didn’t look up, and I could tell he was lost in the lyrics of the song. I was catching him in a rare moment and he looked so vulnerable. He was sitting there shirtless, wearing only his jeans. He also looked very sexy, I thought. I gazed at him and from where I was standing he still hadn’t noticed I was watching him. I tried slowly to make my way down the stairs as I watched him continue to sing.
Wonder this time where she’s gone
Wonder if she’s gone to stay.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,
And this house just ain’t no home
Anytime she goes away.
And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know…
I finally made my way over to the sofa and knelt down on the floor next to his leg and continued to listen. He gave me a little smile but continued singing. Now he was looking down at me, staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes, and I felt myself blush. Watching him sing to me triggered a feeling that I’d never before experienced. I felt hot tingles run up and down my body. When he closed his eyes, lost in the words, the tingling worsened. I slid from where I was sitting and onto my knees directly in front of him. He didn’t stop....
Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone,
But ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,
Only darkness every day.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,
And this house just ain’t no home
Anytime she goes away,
Anytime she goes away,
Anytime she goes away.
I watched his face and when I was sure he’d finished, I lifted myself up, moving in between his legs and tilted my head up to kiss him. I could hear his breath catch as he returned my kiss. He set the guitar down next to him and I rested my hands on his thighs. He stared at me with nothing but passion in his eyes. I slowly moved my hands up his legs rubbing him on the outside of his pants. He leaned forward kissing me lightly on the lips while also making a low moan into my mouth. My mouth left his and wandered down his neck and shoulder. His taste and smell together were making my head spin and a throbbing ache was building in my center. I moved one hand up his bare chest and then back down to the top of his jeans. I pushed two fingers in, lightly rubbing back and forth between the top of his pants and his stomach.
I looked at his face to see his expression. “Please help me take them off,” I whispered. I felt his hand move over mine and he tilted his head back, looking at me seriously.
“Jurnee, if you’re asking to do what I think you are, you don’t have to do that,” giving me a little smile.
“You don’t want me to?” and I watched his face, waiting for his answer.
“Oh I want you to, believe me, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to; I can wait as long as it takes until you’re ready,” and he wasn’t smiling. Looking him directly in the eyes, I slowly began unbuttoning his pants with both hands, pulling at the front of them. Never breaking our stare, he lifted up allowing me to pull them down further. He wasn’t wearing boxers. When his pants lay on the floor, I lifted myself up and began kissing his bare stomach, leaving a trail of wet marks as I finally reached his hard nipple. I felt him recline as he reached for both sides of my head, weaving his fingers in my hair. I began slowly kissing my way back down his stomach and wrapped my hand around his length. I felt him wiggle a little when my mouth took him in at the tip and slowly slide down his length. I had to stop halfway, scared that taking anymore would cause me to gag, so I wrapped both of my hands around the bottom of his shaft, gently moving them in an up-and-down motion. I felt myself slowly able to take more of him and go a little deeper with each try.
I heard Irish moan and then felt him grab my shoulders trying to pull me toward him. “Jurnee, love, it is okay for you to stop now. Jurnee you might want to stop, but I ignored him. I knew what was about to happen, so I continued my rhythm and braced myself determined to finish what I’d started. “God, Jurnee, girl...” and I felt him explode in my mouth. I tried to relax and let my pace slow, allowing me to take him in. Taking the tip of my tongue now I ran it up his shaft before releasing him from my mouth.
I felt Irish roll forward, pulling me into his chest wrapping his arms around my body. “Jurnee, that was amazing. I love you so much, you’ll never know,” and he kissed the top of my head. With my face buried in his chest, I smiled to myself.
Irish set the alarm for five am and turning off the lamp, he climbed into bed. I scooted up next to him and lay my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me. I was silently thinking of everything I needed to do in the morning, and I wasn’t sure what Irish was thinking about so I tapped his chest lightly.
“Whatcha thinking about?” and he gently squeezed me.
“Something my mom said tonight.”
“Can you tell me?” I asked, rubbing the middle of his bare chest with my finger.
“She said I had to stop putting you in the backseat of our relationship and let you sit up front with me.” My eyebrows pressed together as I repeated the words to myself. “I think she was saying that I need to step back and let you stand up for yourself?”
We both lay there in the dark and thought about what he’d just said. Only minutes passed and Irish squeezed me again. “Why, after how I acted at dinner tonight, did you offer to do what you did downstairs?” and I smiled knowing that he had been thinking about that. He didn’t move; he just waited
for my response.
“What happened at dinner had nothing to do with what happened downstairs. When I heard you singing tonight, it really touched me. You’re really good by the way,” and I rubbed his chest again. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be your number one groupie, or at least the president of your fan club.”
“Paul was rudely staring at me throughout dinner, but your mom’s right. I should’ve said something to him, not you. I’m as much to blame here as you are because I actually like your protectiveness. Maybe I’ve let myself depend on it. I guess it makes me feel really safe,” and I felt another squeeze from him.
“I want you to feel safe with me, Jurnee,” he said seriously.
“I know you do, Irish, but he was only staring; that’s not really threatening and I rolled away from him onto my side, pulling his arm with me.
He scooted up behind me and got comfortable. “Well I absolutely want you to...” and I felt him take a deep breath.
I waited a few moments and then asked, “Want me to do what?” and I froze, waiting for his answer.
“I want you to be my number one groupie,” he chuckled.
I closed my eyes and squeezed his arm. Five o’clock would be here soon, so we both drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Irish protectively watched the truck driver load his car on the trailer, and then he loaded our suitcases and boxes into the back of the truck. I sat on the sofa with my coffee, trying to wake up. With my eyes closed clutching my cup as if it was going to get away from me, I heard a phone beep. I opened my eyes to see it was Irish’s cell on the table in front of me.
Maybe it’s his dad, I thought. I reached for it and looked at the name on the screen. It was Paris. I set it back down on the table. I’m not sure I’m ready for that, I thought.
At that moment Irish came through the front door. “They’re on their way,” he said, giving me his wonderful Irish smile. “Do you want anything to eat before I empty the refrigerator?” and I shook my head no. “It’s going to be a long stretch before we get there, but if you’re sure that you can wait, we can eat in San Francisco,” he said disappearing into the kitchen.
“Did you rent a car?” I said loudly.
Irish appeared holding a plastic bag of food in his hand, “No the limo’s going to drop us off at our new house,” he said, smiling at the reference to our house.
“So we won’t have a car until the Mustang arrives then, right?”
“Oh we’ll have wheels; don’t worry,” and he went back to unloading the refrigerator. I scrunched up my face, wondering what that meant, as I stood up to help him.
Memphis arrived at nine am on the dot, and we were soon on our way to the airport. In the limousine on our way to the house, Irish took my hand and pulled it to his face. I gave him a suspicious little smile and waited to hear what he was about to say.
“I never did get you anything for your birthday, and after beating myself up over what to get you, I finally came up with the perfect gift.” I looked at him.
He made me curious. “So, what did you decide on?” and I watched his face, waiting for him to let me in on the secret.
“You’ll see when we get to the house,” and he grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“Really, you’re not going to tell me?” and I smacked his knee with my hand. When we pulled up to the driveway of the house, I had to squint to see through the tinted windows at what was sitting in our driveway, a car, with something red on top. Finally it clicked and my head whipped around to Irish. He had the most satisfying grin on his face. I turned back to the driveway. Thank God I hadn’t asked him for an elephant, I thought smiling. We both hopped out of the limo to look at my new car.
Irish had to be at work first thing in the morning, so we plowed through the afternoon trying to get everything hooked up or put together as it was delivered. We stopped to open the gift from his mother. It was a large glass globe, almost the size of a basketball, with a man and a woman walking hand in hand along a sandy beach. The inscription on the base read: “Walk together into the future side by side.” We knew his mom and dad wanted us to be happy and this globe symbolized our equal partnership.
He finally ordered a pizza and when it arrived, we sat down to eat. Looking around the house we both smiled at the progress we’d made and at the gift from his mom. It was beginning to look like a real home, I thought. As we stuffed our mouths with the first meal eaten all day, Irish’s phone beeped with a text.
Picking up his phone and looking at me, he said, “It’s from Paris,” and punched in his code. I looked back at my pizza, remembering that she’d tried to call him earlier today. When it seemed that he’d been on the line forever, I looked to see him repeatedly roll his eyes while still reading what had to be several messages. As he set it down on our new coffee table, it chirped.
Irish bent down and answered it. “Hello, Paris,” he said, looking at the floor. “Yes, I got your three text messages and your voice mails, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to Jurnee yet. I will say now that I doubt we’re going to be able to do that Paris, but I appreciate your thinking of us first” and his eyes flashed to mine.
My curiosity was aroused. What would she possibly want him to talk to me about?
After a minute of silence he said, “Okay, I love you too,” setting his phone on the table. He leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head and looked at the ceiling.
“She and Paul want to move in with us and you had to get my permission first?” I said teasingly. He didn’t look at me or smile.
Just then we saw our moving truck pull up front and Irish jumped up. “If you want to read the messages she sent, go ahead,” he said, looking down at his phone, “Then we can talk about NOT doing it after I finish with the driver.” He gave me a pathetic excuse for a smile and headed out the front door.
I wiped my hands on my napkin and picked up his phone.
First message: Irish, I guess I messed up on my dates but the doctor says I’m four and a half months. I can’t take care of a baby, so I thought maybe since you and Jurnee are settled and content, you could take it and raise it as your own.”
Second message: Mom didn’t think it was a good idea but I told her that I was going to ask anyway. I’ve been clean since I found out I was pregnant and the doctor says that if I eat right everything should be fine.
Third message: I’m going to stay here with mom and dad until the baby’s born so I won’t be tempted to do anything stupid. Please talk to Jurnee and let me know your decision.
My mouth hung open, but I couldn’t guess what the look on my face resembled. She talked about her child like it was a puppy she was trying to find a good home for. Oh hell, I thought. No wonder Irish had acted the way he did during her call. I sat back on the sofa and picked up my slice of pizza.
I looked up to see Irish holding the front door open for one of the movers. “Love, do you want these to go in the empty room or out here in the living room?” and his question had caught me in the middle of a bite of pizza. I waved my hand toward the back, and Irish, smiling at me and watching me chewing a mouthful, showed the man to the empty room.
That must have been a pretty picture, Jurnee, I thought. I jumped up and held the door so Irish could help the two men finish and get on their way. When the car was safely in the driveway and all the boxes had been moved, we sat down to relax and unwind from our long day of labor. It was dark outside and our beautiful view of the water was obscured by nightfall.
“I really need to find the sheets I washed for the bed,” and leaned forward to go find them. Irish leaned forward too but gently pushed me back on the sofa.
“I’ll help you in a minute. Did you listen to the messages?” and I could tell this had been on his mind, maybe the whole time he was moving boxes.
“Yes. I honestly don’t know what to think about it Irish. What are you thinking?” and I was apprehensive, trying to read his face.
“I think that my sister is tryin
g to get herself out of another jam, and I doubt that she’s thinking about what she’s asking in terms of the future. I think she feels that this would clean things up all neat and tidy for her, but she isn’t looking ahead ten or fifteen years.” I waited for him to finish and could tell he’d done some deliberating. “I know we’re both relieved about the bullet we’d just dodged, but I also know we’d have handled it responsibly if things had worked out differently. Paris is just thinking about Paris, but I do feel sorry for her child.”
I could feel my eyebrows creep together and I bit my bottom lip, holding it between my teeth. I looked at him trying to figure out his thoughts before I made a comment.
“She said it was a girl, by the way, when she called.”
“Do you think we’re in a position to adopt and raise her child? Is that something you think we can handle right now?” I was staring at his face and holding my breath, waiting for his response.
“I don’t know, Jurnee, that’s why I’m discussing it with you. I know I couldn’t and wouldn’t attempt it by myself because I’d be working. I‘d be putting most of the responsibility on you.”
I took a deep breath and let myself fall back in my seat. When I looked at Irish, he had a calm look on his face.
He sat there waiting for me to say something.
“What if we did this and a year from now Paris decided she’d changed her mind?”
He answered way too quickly. “I’ll call my mom and have her talk to Paris. We’ll have the papers all written legally so that would never be an issue; she’d be our child, Jurnee,” and he leaned over and reached for my hand. Pulling it up to his mouth, he gently kissed it.
I watched him now, trying to picture him as a dad. He’d turned out to be an amazing husband, so being a dad might be easy for him too.
I lifted myself up and gently pulled my hand from him so that I could stand. His eyes followed me and watched as I left the room. He was behind me in seconds, following me to the spare room filled with boxes. I walked in as far as I was able and turned toward him standing in the doorway. “So, pink or yellow for the walls?” and I smiled at him, throwing my arms to my sides. He lifted me up holding my body off the ground.
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