by kj lewis
As fun as those days were, they don’t compare to Halloween this year. Who knew you could have so much fun with kids and friends when all you did was knock on doors and ask for candy?
Reid Beckett and Elise Bennett invited us to their townhouse for a family-friendly party. They live in Grammercy Park, an area sought after for its private park, and all the neighbors donned their stoops at dark to hand out candy.
Poppy stayed true to her original plan and went as I love Lucy. She fell head over heels for Graham Taylor’s sister, Lucy, who also came as her namesake. The two were the hit of every stoop they visited.
Sam and her girls went as the Spice Girls, using Zinnie to round out the five. I thought I would scream if I heard them sing “tell me what you want, what you really really want” one more time.
Even the guys dressed up and didn’t waste a chance to chide me for being the party pooper. Minutes before we left, Zoe pinned a piece of paper to my lapel that said, “Nudist on Strike,” when I sourly refused to participate.
“Here. We can throw mine away,” Zinnie says. “I don’t need it either.” She’s about to pour her bucket into the trash but Sam stops her.
“Just…let me get the Kit-Kats out. Oh,” she holds up a mini box of Milk Duds and rattles them. “These too. Oh—”
“Maybe we should just keep it,” Zinnie laughs and puts the bucket back on the counter.
“If you insist,” Sam giggles.
“Okay, lights out,” Zinnie says, hitting the button on the wall.
Today has been filled with crepe paper and homemade signs. It’s my birthday. This morning the girls insisted I wear the aluminum foil crown while I ate the French toast they made. I had foil stars to wish on, but I didn’t need them. I had my three wishes standing in front of me.
I blow out the candles as they finish an off-beat chorus of Happy Birthday. It’s Tuesday, so our weekly dinner was converted into a celebration. Sam and the girls started celebrating on Saturday though. My birthday has lasted four days now.
I never knew I could enjoy a birthday. Ours were never that special growing up, but it’s clear all three girls have strong family traditions built around their special days. Sunday night, the four of us ordered in, spending the night to ourselves. They insisted we lay in Poppy’s tent, the cover of it layered in star-shaped twinkle lights to mimic the sky. Zinnie and Sam each read aloud their favorite poem from Leaves of Grass while Pops held my hand. It is a memory I will always cherish. No one has ever celebrated me in the way these three girls have.
The lights come back up and there’s a fury of cake cutting and laughter. I’m growing accustomed to the level of activity in this place on Tuesdays. Sam looks at me through the chaos and it puts me at peace. I’m not Superman or the world’s best man, and that’s okay, but I am the best man for her. Because, fuck, this woman is incredible. She must sense that I am seconds away from falling to my knees and asking her to spend the rest of her life beside me, because she winks and her eyes dance in a way that tells me my real gift will come after everyone has left and the girls are down.
“I’m ready,” I tell Sam later that night while I’m balls deep inside of her. Finn gave me the best present of the night and shuffled everyone out the door at a decent hour. After bath and reading, Poppy is finally asleep and Zinnie should be by now too.
Sam moans as I circle my hips before pulling out and slamming back into her.
“Not yet. The girls need more time.”
Circle. Out. Slam.
“Don’t hide behind the girls. It’s been a month now. I am not going to change my mind.”
Circle. Out. Slam.
“I’m not.”
Circle. Out. Slam.
“Fine. Maybe I am,” she admits. “But right now, the only two people who could get hurt aren’t in this room. If this doesn’t work out, you and I can recover.”
My circle, out, slam falters at her words and I stop moving all together. Does this not mean to her what it means to me?
“I’m past the point of recovering. I thought you were, too.”
I hold still, waiting for her response.
“I lo—” She places a finger over my lips.
“I’m scared,” she breathes, and a tear falls silently from the corner of her eye. “I need time.”
“I can’t fix it if you won’t talk to me about it.”
“Why do men think they need to fix women?”
“I didn’t say fix you. You’re lovely. I adore you in every way. I said fix it. If there wasn’t anything wrong, you wouldn’t be frightened. I would give my life to make sure you never have to feel that again.”
Her body begins to tremble, and she visibly falls apart beneath me. I pull out of her. Sex is nowhere on my mind right now. I just need her to know she is safe and loved.
“I’m sorry,” she says as I hold her, giving her every ounce of comfort I can.
“About what?”
“Crying is hardly part of sexy time.”
“Don’t you get it? I want you. In every way. There is nothing to be sorry for. I mean it, Sam. This isn’t just sex for me. Or you. I know it. I see it in your eyes. I read it in the sweet texts you send me. I feel it when you kiss me.” I pause and kiss her swollen lips. “I want all of you. Even during sexy time,” I chuckle and move back on top of her.
Sometimes a moment’s break is all you need.
The next few weeks are a string of firsts for us. The girls had their first American Thanksgiving without their parents. I knew Finn would be here to celebrate, but I was shocked to learn the week before that my crew and Sam’s squad all planned to celebrate the day with us.
We had several invites from my parents, Jenny’s parents, other friends and families, but in the end the girls wanted to stay at our place and celebrate with whomever could make it. Pierce was the only holdout. Once Poppy realized he might not make it, she made it her mission to have him there. He never stood a chance.
The weekend before Thanksgiving Sam asked the girls about the traditions they had with their parents and which ones they wanted to keep. I mean, I had thought about it being hard for them because of the holiday and I even thought about it being different, but I didn’t think to ask them how to make it the way they wanted it to be.
The decision was made that they each had to list a tradition from their past they hoped to carry into their future. If they had more than one that was fine. The point was to honor their parents. Then Sam encouraged us to think of new traditions we might start as a new family.
“Your turn, Sam,” Zinnie instructed. “What tradition do you want to carry over from your family?”
By the time we had a growing list, there wasn’t a dry eye amongst us. The three girls grieving for their loss and me for their grief.
Thanksgiving day started with Sam’s tradition of making cinnamon rolls and watching the Macy’s parade while we prepared dinner. Poppy got to write a word of her choice in marshmallows on the sweet potato casserole. Zinnie and I did the wishbone challenge, like she and Everett always did. We added a new tradition of saying one thing we are grateful for around the table before dinner and drawing names for stockings.
Stockings were Zinnie’s idea. Since we have a large group, she suggested we draw names for stockings and exchange them during our Tuesday dinner before Christmas. The idea was well-received, and I found myself looking forward to being creative on what I might purchase to fit into a large sock.
That is how we found ourselves adding names to a bowl on Tuesday at six. Grace added the stipulation that the name we drew had to be kept a secret. Poppy enlists Finn to be her present helper, so he is the only one that gets to see her secret. She bounces with glee at the chosen name. She excitedly shows him, climbs into his lap, and whispers in his ear, clutching the name to her. A sheen of wetness shown on my brother’s eye, and I know whatever Poppy whispered touched him. With his arms still encasing her, her legs dangling off his as she bounces in excitement as each person draws a name, he bends down an
d places his cheek against the top of her head.
“That little girl,” he says to me after putting her to bed that night, his words catching in his throat. “How does a little girl who has seen more horror at the age of five than anyone should have to bounce with glee because she got a name of someone she thinks needs happiness?” He swipes at a tear and my hand rests against his back to comfort him. “She is always thinking of others.”
“Like you,” I point out.
My brother hugs me until he has his composure. He’s a formidable businessman, but he has no problem showing his emotions. I was never comfortable with public displays of affection, but Finn changed that. He always showed his love in hugs, forcing me out of my comfort zone.
While we can’t get through our day-to-day without our extended family, Sam wants some things to be just about us, so the following week, me, Sam, Finn and the girls picked out a tree before having frozen hot chocolates at Serendipity. By the time we made it back to the apartment, the tree had been delivered and was awaiting its transformation.
Tuesday night dinners soon became a cacophony of holiday decorating and taunts and tricks to figure out whose name we each have. This Tuesday, Quade, Charlotte, and Grace, show up to decorate and make sugar cookies. Cheers went up when we declare we are finished, and when I stepped back to take in the room, I am rendered speechless. There is an overabundance of twinkle lights, homemade garland, and ornaments. Missing were the stuffy, repetitive ornaments I was accustomed to growing up, where everything on the tree matched and looked like the designers did the decorating. It is perfect and for the first time ever, I find myself looking forward to Christmas with excitement I hadn’t felt since I was Poppy’s age.
Grace distributes stockings with our names on each one. She and Zinnie concoct a way to hang them since the fireplace doesn’t have a mantel. There is Christmas music, cookies, and laughter. The night is perfect, ending with me inside Sam.
The girls are in high spirits going into their last week of school. Each of our friends are desperate to make the season as special as possible and it feels like every free minute is driven by an agenda of things to do.
Tonight, Colin paid what I assume is a small fortune to rent the skating rink in Central Park. Between the girls’ friends and families and the friends we each invited there must be close to thirty people here. Finn’s friends Blake and West join in with a group of kids West teaches. I love watching the dynamics of the group of kids. Their ability to come together with people different than themselves. It’s a perfect ending to an agenda that was filled with seeing the tree, crepes in Bryant Park, and the famous storefront windows the city is known for this time of year.
Like I said, we haven’t stopped and when I exit the lift the next day after work, I am more than ready for a night in. I start to announce myself but stop just short of interrupting. Sam looks to Zinnie with a raised brow and I see the look reflected on the teenager’s face.
“I’m sorry. If I do it again, I promise I’ll give you my phone,” she murmurs. I have no idea what the offense was, but if Zinnie knows the repercussion is taking her phone, then it must have been serious.
“Deal,” Sam nods. “Everyone deserves the chance to do over. Recognizing that you need one says you’re winning in the decision-making process.”
“I said I was sorry,” Zinnie retorts.
“I heard you,” Sam tells her with confusion on her face that gives way to understanding.
“You are so After School Special.” Zinnie rolls her eyes and I swallow my tea down the wrong pipe choking back my laughter. She taps me with a slight fist bump before she takes the seat next to me.
“What are we doing tonight?” she asks. Sam and I both answer, “Nothing.”
Sam felt, and I agreed, that the girls needed processing time as much as they needed distractions.
“Tonight, we are going to enjoy the apartment being decorated and watch TV,” Sam says, setting the take-out we ordered on the counter. “We have a lot going on this week. I have my final presentation. Poppy, you have your party. Zinnie, you have mid-terms. And Walt, you have a deal to finalize before Christmas.”
“I don’t like broccoli.” Poppy turns her nose up when I offer her some beef with broccoli. Sam spoons some chicken fried rice onto her plate. She turns to hand the container to Zinnie, who she finds on her phone.
“You know the rules.”
“I was texting Finn. There’s a ton of food,” Zinnie says. “I don’t like thinking of him in his apartment by himself. Not when he could be with us.”
“Yes!” Poppy exclaims gleefully. “I want Finn.”
“Why doesn’t he decorate his apartment?” Zinnie asks.
“It’s just not something we’ve really cared about in the past,” I answer.
“You mean before us you didn’t decorate?”
“Nope. Those were the good ole days,” I tease with a wink, but it falls with a thud on her serious expression. “What?”
“I don’t like thinking of you by yourself either. Not anymore anyway.”
“I’m not. I’ve got you three.” As soon as my words leave my mouth, my eyes do a lap of the room to see if I’ve given too much away. Sam and I might not see eye to eye on how deep this relationship is right now, but we both agree that it needs to remain between the two of us. The girls are our main priority. The girls seem oblivious, so it must not have registered. Sam hides a smile as she turns to spoon more food onto her plate.
“Chinese,” Finn says, entering the room. Poppy hops up and gives him a big hug before pulling him to sit next to her.
“We need to get you a boyfriend,” Zinnie muses. The expression on my brother’s face is priceless. Luckily, he is already lowering himself onto a seat, since his legs appear to falter momentarily.
“I don’t need a matchmaker,” Finn grumbles, narrowing his eyes at her. “Especially not by my niece.”
Zinnie beams at the word “niece”.
“That boy you liked is definitely not an option?” she presses.
“He definitely is not an option. He’s getting married on New Year’s Eve.”
“Really?” I’m surprised I hadn’t heard.
“He doesn’t know it. Blake is taking care of everything. West thinks it’s a regular party, but everyone else knows they are coming to attend the wedding. It will be at midnight.”
“That is so romantic,” Zinnie swoons. “Maybe you’ll meet someone there,” she says dreamily.
Finn rolls his eyes in my direction as if to say, “Please make it stop.” I chuckle at his expense and bite off the end of an eggroll.
“Did you hear anything about the trial?” Zinnie asks.
“The date is set for January,” I answer her softly.
“Did they decide to allow the plea bargain to be part of the deal?”
“They did. Are you having second thoughts?”
“Every day,” she admits. “But I remember what Sam said and try to make that my focus.”
Sam winks at her.
“Well, it’s done. The plea has already been entered. The trial in January is sentencing only. Try not to think about it. There’s nothing we can do to change it at this point.”
She pushes her food around, and Poppy must sense her distress because she sits back and watches her sister with concern.
“I know you said I need to forgive,” Zinnie says, “but I haven’t. Not yet. But I’m trying.”
“You’ll get there in your own time,” Sam assures her.
“I just don’t want my parents to think I abandoned them, ya know?” She looks up before adding, “Like I didn’t fight for them.”
“Your parents loved you, sweetheart. There is no way they would ever feel abandoned,” Finn says.
As usual, Sam made a good call. The girls need time to process, not just activities to keep them from thinking about the changes they are living. Finn stays to help Zinnie study, while I take care of getting Poppy to bed and Sam works on her presentat
ion.
Making my way back into the family area, Finn and Zinnie are in a heated debate about the impact of the Asian market driving up the cost of real estate in New York. Every rebuttal she has, I heard from Everett at one point or another. The thought makes me smile.
There are a pair of sweatpants clad legs just visible beneath the refrigerator door when I enter the kitchen. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Zinnie is still occupied before I slip around the refrigerator door, giving Sam a bit of a fright.
“Come with me,” I whisper, biting her earlobe.
“But I’m hungry,” she mumbles.
“I have something I can feed you.” I pull her hand to my crotch. She slides her hand up and down my shaft.
“Maybe I want to feed you,” she teases. I’ve never had a lover who got off on pleasuring me as much as Sam does.
“That can be arranged, too,” I groan. Her hand is inside my sweats now, and I’m seconds away from losing my shit if I don’t gain some control. But the decision is not mine to make. Poppy does it for me with blood curdling screams through the kid monitor I still turn on in her room at night.
Instinctively, I dash to her room, Sam and the others step in behind me. By the time I reach her, she’s shaking from the sobs wrenching her body.
“I’m here, love. I’ve got you. You’re ok. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
I chant these words over and over as I rock her back and forth. My arms hold her so tightly she’s probably struggling to breath. She doesn’t complain though; she just keeps sobbing.
“What is it sweetheart?” Sam asks.
“The man who took Mommy and Daddy,” she hiccups and cries harder. “He took Walt.”
“No one is going to take me. I promise.”
“He can. You said he wasn’t going to jail. That means he’s out here. He can still take you.” She cries harder.
“That’s not going to happen.” I attempt to soothe her, because really that is all I can do. There is no other way to make her understand. All I can do is reassure her.
And that’s when the revelation hits me. I’m a father. Without a doubt. I love this girl more than I love myself.