by White, J. L.
He nods eagerly. “Can we kick the soccer ball?”
“Yes. I’d love to.”
Her eyes leap to mine again, and she stands, watching me hesitantly. “Hello, Brett.”
“Hi, Jess.” I turn my attention to Max. “Just for a little bit, remember? We don’t want to wear your mom out.”
“I’m alright,” she says, tousling his hair, but still looking at me.
That’s a look I recognize too, so I walk past them both and drop the ball on the grass. “You start, Max.”
We stay for as long as I can bear, using her growing weariness as an excuse to leave so she can rest. This time, when I watch the goodbye with its accompanying hugs and kisses, I don’t feel a thing.
Not a thing.
Not long after Max met Lizzy, he asked if we could have her and Montana over for a sleepover. We took him to her place last weekend, and I wasn’t sure which he enjoyed more, playing in the pool or playing with her dog. So Friday after work, they both come over. He’s excited to see Montana, and the feeling seems to be mutual. The two are never far apart. Max’s new favorite activity is throwing the rope toy for Montana to fetch, which is what he does while Lizzy and I make lasagna. We use her recipe, and she swears Max won’t even know there’s spinach in it. I’m pleased to discover later that she’s right.
After dinner, Lizzy teaches Max some of Montana’s tricks. His favorite is lying on the floor next to the dog, covering himself with a blanket, and giggling when Montana starts pawing at the edge of the blanket until Max covers him up too.
The more we all spend time together, the more amazed I am at how well things are going. Other than some initial missteps over times when Max needed correction or discipline—I’ve since asked her to leave that to me—they’re getting along great. She seems to genuinely enjoy him, which is important to me. I don’t know that she could ever love him as much as his own mother, but it appears she’d be a caring substitute.
As for me, just me. I still can’t get enough of her. We’re spending so much time together, we’re practically living together. I find myself thinking about a future with her. A real future, and that inevitably leads to a mix of excitement and fear. I was with Jessica almost three years before I married her and that still didn’t work out. So how could I already be thinking about making such a move after just six weeks with Lizzy?
I keep thinking about Isaac and his wife, and how he knew she was the one. Maybe he gave me a straight answer about that and maybe he didn’t, but look how long they’ve been together. And they’re still happy. How did he know… really?
Chapter 32
Lizzy
I promised Max I’d bring a story for the “sleepover” tonight, so we’re all stretched out on his bed while I read The Pokey Little Puppy for the second time. Max is lying between Brett and me, his head tucked against my shoulder and making my heart melt, and Montana is on the foot of the bed.
Actually on the bed. My mother never would’ve allowed such a thing, but Brett doesn’t have a problem with it. They had a dog growing up and he has fond memories of it sleeping with him because even though it was technically the family dog, in truth it was his dog.
Just as the pokey little puppy is going to bed without his strawberry shortcake, Max suddenly scrambles out of bed and goes to the laundry basket in the closet.
“What are you doing, Max?” I ask.
“I miss my mom.” My heart pinches a little as I watch him dig into the pocket of a pair of pants, then press his hand to his lips.
“His mom gave him kisses to keep in his pocket,” Brett explains in a low voice as Max crawls back onto the bed.
Ah.
“My pajamas don’t have pockets,” Max says matter-of-factly as he slips back under the covers.
I’m still getting to know Max, and I’m not always sure about my place with him. This has led to more than a few awkward moments, particularly when he was in need of some simple correction. I want to be helpful and ease some of the weight off Brett’s shoulders, since he’s a single dad, but I’m trying to remember when to step back so he can take care of things. It’s a delicate balancing act that I’m not always sure I’m getting right, but I feel less unsure now as I search Max’s little face, looking for signs of distress. The kiss seemed to do its job, so I say, “It’s okay. I miss my mom, too.”
He looks up at me with those big blue eyes, his mop of hair a halo around him on the pillow. “Is she in the hospital?”
“No. She went to heaven.”
“Why’d she go there?”
I smile at this innocent question and exchange a glance with Brett, who’s watching me with a gentle expression. “I guess God thought she was too good to stay.”
“Is she an angel now?”
“Maybe.”
“Did she give you kisses, too?”
I nod. “Sort of. I keep them right here.” I tap my chest lightly with two fingers.
He snuggles in deeper and turns his attention back to the book, which I’ve closed slightly, my finger marking our spot. “Mommy told me to put mine in my pocket.”
I chuckle. “Well, that’s a good place for them.”
He softly pushes the book open, indicating he’s ready to continue. As I read the words, I remember my mother reading them to me when I was little. This book was one of my favorites, so we read it together a lot. It’s a warm memory, but one I don’t share aloud right now. I keep it in my heart, which is a good place for it.
Before I finish the third reading, which I do in a soft, lulling voice in the hopes of relaxing a very active little boy, Max is sound asleep. Brett gives him a kiss on the forehead, and I sneak one in too before we turn out the lights. Montana’s out as well, but we leave the door open a crack in case he wants out later. The previous owners of this house must’ve had a dog, because the back door has a little doggie door that’s a bit snug for Montana’s comfort, but big enough to make do. I just hope he remembers where it is if he needs to use it in the middle of the night and doesn’t wake Max.
Most the lights are out, so the living room is softly lit by a single lamp on the end table. Brett sits heavily on the end of the couch, letting out the big sigh of relief I’ve learned means: Dad off duty.
I sit next to him, sitting sideways with one leg curled up on his lap and the other tucked underneath me. I lean my head on the back of the couch, smiling at him. He’s such a good dad, so loving and diligent. It only makes me love him more. I love being here with him and Max, and being part of their lives. These days when I’m home, if they’re not there, I wish they were.
In fact, more and more often, I imagine what my home would be like with them in it. I know which room could be for Max. Which room could be a playroom. Where we could put in a big, wooden playset in the backyard. If we ever really do get to that point—and sometimes I can’t believe I’m already thinking along those lines—those are decisions I know Brett and I would need to make together. He might have different ideas. But I can’t stop myself from mentally rearranging my house anyway. I haven’t yet told Brett that the new vision I have for what used to be my parents’ home is getting easier and easier to see all the time. I can imagine years and years ahead with them, and it’s a vision that makes my heart light.
He looks at me and puts a warm hand on my calf, rubbing softly underneath the lightweight, flowing skirt I’m wearing. “Did that bother you?”
I assume he means the conversation about kisses and mommies. “Which part?”
“Any of it.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m glad he feels comfortable enough with me that we could talk about it like that.”
“Yeah.” He smiles, rubbing his hand softly up my thigh and back down again. “Me too. Come here.”
He almost didn’t need to say anything, because the tender expression he’s giving me is so inviting, I probably would’ve crawled right onto his lap anyway. I settle in, my legs folded on either side of him, the soft fabric of my skirt puddled around us. I
wrap my arms behind his neck as his hands slide gently up my back. Our eyes go soft as we look at one another. He brings one hand to my face, lightly running his fingers along my jawline, still holding my gaze. My hands slip slowly over his shoulders, down the front of his chest, and to his stomach.
And still, we are only looking at one another. Not saying a word, and yet saying so much.
I take in his deep eyes, the angles of his cheekbones and chin, the curve of his hairline. Then back to his eyes. Always back to that, because that is where his love is pouring into me, and where I am sending my love back to him.
His hand plays softly with my hair, then returns to my jaw, caressing me gently. He lightly hooks two fingers under my chin, and brings me in. Our kiss is soft, and we’re wrapped in a thick blanket of intimacy and desire that makes the rest of the world vanish. Both his hands go to my cheeks as we separate briefly, eyes meeting again. His hands stay in place, but his fingers curl as he caresses me faintly. “I love you,” he whispers.
I bring my arms around his neck again, and his arms circle around me, holding me snugly. Our embrace tightens, but we are still looking at one another, lips barely separated. “I love you, too.”
I kiss him again. And again, our mouths opening softly to one another, our warm tongues joining in an intimate dance. He’s growing beneath me, and my body is heating up too, but this is a wanting that’s infused with tenderness. As we continue to kiss and caress one another, going slow and taking our time, it is like gently stoking glowing embers until a steady fire takes their place. This time the fire’s origin is in my heart, and lends its heat elsewhere, making my physical and emotional wanting of him indistinguishable one from the other.
His length is hard against me, and I firmly press myself against him there and everywhere, tightening my embrace and deepening my kiss. His arms are strong around me, keeping me to him, and my body is a slow-flowing river of molten lava. We break apart briefly, breaths swirling hot together and eyes simmering, as he gently lifts off my top and drops it at his feet.
I am only vaguely aware that Max could come out and see us, but I’ve yet to see him wake back up once he’s asleep, so I’m less worried about it than the first time I was here. Besides, it would seem an affront to disrupt the warm blanket of tenderness and yearning that’s binding us close.
He pulls me back for another kiss, reaching over and turning off the lamp on the table next to us before returning his firm hand to my bare back. The room falls to near darkness, lit only by the light in the hall. Thus protected by a veil of secrecy, any remaining reservations I had about doing this here vanish.
The ache between my legs grows hot, and I press against him again, holding his face in my hands as we kiss deeply. His hold on me tightens and he keeps me firmly against him as he slowly rearranges us so we’re sinking back onto the couch, him now on top of me. The soft fabric of my skirt falls away, leaving my thighs bare as I curl myself around him.
I bring up the hem of his shirt, then press my hands wide on his hot skin. He lifts onto his knees so he can remove his shirt. I reach for the front of his jeans, loosening the button and lowering the zipper. He hitches his jeans down his hips, and I scoop the band of his briefs up and over the top of his erection, exposing him. As he pulls his briefs down to his thighs, I take him into both hands and stroke his warm, firm length.
He exhales hotly, flexing under my grip, and reaches behind me to loosen my bra. I release him so he can slide the straps down my arms, laying all the way back as he drops my bra to the floor. My hard peaks ache against the open air, longing for his touch. I reach for my panties, lifting my hips slightly and bringing my knees together in front of him so I can take them off. When the silky material gets to my calves, he takes over from there, dropping those to the floor as well.
His eyes hold mine as he comes down to me then, my hardened nipples lightly brushing against his firm chest as he reaches between us to line things up. We’re both still watching each other, and both breathing hot and shallow as he slowly brings his weight on me and pushes inside me. I resist the urge to close my eyes in pleasure, instead gently nipping at his chin and looking up at him as he fills me.
My eyes flutter shut as he hits bottom, and his mouth claims mine in a deep kiss. He pulls slowly back, and I feel every inch of his raw cock rubbing against my inner ridges. I whimper slightly in his mouth. He pauses for one heartbeat. Two. Then slowly stretches and fills me again. I whimper again, unable to maintain our kiss, tilting my head back and angling my hips up so he can reach more deeply. This time when he hits bottom, he whispers warmly in my ear, “I love you.”
I’m overcome with sensation as he pulls back slightly more quickly. I exhale shakily. “I love you too,” I say, just before he thrusts in deep again and my head is thrown back once more. I whimper yet again, dizzy with climbing desire, and whisper, “I love you.”
We cling to one another, rocking faster now, breathing hard. My arms are across his bare back, my fingernails scratching lightly, and he’s sucking on my earlobe and neck and shoulder. His hand goes to my breast at last, and I exhale sharply, being so full with him elsewhere that I forgot how much I needed his touch here too.
Our rhythm increases and my thighs climb higher. He grips one tight to his side, stretching me hard around his cock, and my back arches in pleasure. He ducks down and takes one hard nipple into his warm mouth, working it with his wet tongue and pounding me harder. I bite my bottom lip, moaning softly, trying not to cry out like I want to. He switches to my other breast, sending a hot zing of pleasure through my nipple when he takes it into his mouth. I curl one hand into his hair, pulling him harder against me and looking down at him to see the way he’s working me.
He’s still pumping me, and I feel myself getting tighter around him, the pleasure between my legs burning hotter and desperate for more. Releasing my breast and leaving my wet nipples exposed to the air, he props up on both arms and pins my other knee between his bicep and his body.
My head drops back before it tucks forward, as I respond to the pleasure he’s so expertly giving me. I look down, and between my eyes adjusting to the darkness and the low light from the hall, I can see the thick outline of his cock coming into my open mound. I whimper, feel a surge of wetness, and drop my head on the couch cushion to find his dark eyes watching me.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers, holding my eyes and rocking me hard.
I whimper again, climbing. I grip his forearms, closing my eyes briefly as I feel myself clamping down on him harder. My gaze returns to his, and it’s even more loving and tender than when we started. I’m overcome with him. With him and me.
My breaths are short and shallow and my body is taking over now, the waves of pleasure coming harder and closer together. Or maybe he’s the one taking over. His increased hardness stretches me more, and my climax continues to build. I see his climax building too, see the soft ecstasy of it on his face, and I want to watch him. I want him to watch me. I want him to see just how much I’m giving myself to him. I want him to hold back nothing from me.
Still gripping his forearms, I’m climbing so hard my body is curling inward, but still I’m looking up at him. He’s holding my gaze too, his lips slightly parted in pleasure. My mouth is open too as I’m panting, gasping, held fast by the orgasm that’s almost here. It’s rising on his face too. He’s pounding me harder and faster and I whimper over and over as I watch the approaching peak of ecstasy on his face mirror the one that’s seizing my body.
The muscles in his forearms tighten, his dick tightens and flexes, and I’m shattered hard by a climax that’s rushing through my ears like a storm. The storm breaks over his face too and we orgasm together. Our eyes close momentarily, our heads hitch slightly back and forth helplessly as the pleasure rolls over us like thunder, but we largely hang on to each other’s gaze, and my knowing of him becomes deeper as I watch him.
At last we release one another, and my head falls back and my eyes close as I rid
e out the rest of my climax, his hard shaft pounding into me. It goes on, making my heart pound almost painfully in my chest, pushing the hot pleasure in my clit so high I’m almost astounded. It is what my heart needed from him, and needed to give to him, and as we’re coming down in hot, powerful waves, and he sinks down into my arms again, I remain astounded. He’s part of me now. In every sense of the word. Still joined together physically, arms wrapping around one another as we try to catch our breath, my heart is bound to him in a way I’ve never experienced before.
And my vision of a future with him sharpens.
Chapter 33
Brett
It’s been a month since I brought these two halves of my life together, and it’s starting to feel like the new normal.
Halloween is on a Thursday this year, and Lizzy said she’d come over after work to take Max trick or treating with me. That morning, before I drop Max off to preschool, she sends me a text:
Tell Max I’ll have a little surprise for him when I come.
Me: What is it?
Lizzy: Nope. Surprise for you too. Nothing big though, so don’t play it up too much.
I pick him up from daycare a bit early so we can get home and get dinner done and him into his costume in time. He keeps asking me what Lizzy’s surprise is, apparently thinking I really do know what it is and am holding out on him. As we’re coming in from the garage, I get a text from her:
Running a bit behind. Okay if I’m about 30 min late?
I frown and get a hot pinch in my chest. I already told Max we’d leave at six.
Me: Okay.
I kind of wanted to say no, but I don’t know why she’s running late and I don’t want to be unreasonable. Nevertheless, I feel an unreasonable irritation about it that climbs to outright anger when I tell Max we won’t leave until six-thirty and have to watch his little face fall.