That gets a good giggle out of me. “A taste of your own medicine! I like him already. So, did you?”
“No!” She looks at me in horror. “Of course not! I told you, he’s got children, and his wife died. That’s too much baggage for me. No way.”
“He doesn’t sound like a man with a lot of baggage. He sounds like a man who’s ready to play the field again. How long ago did she die?”
“I’m not sure, and my field is closed to anyone with children. It just ain’t happening.”
“Suit yourself,” I shrug. “He sounds fun. You might be missing out on the hottest sex of your life.”
She rolls her eyes. “I strongly doubt it. Guys who are that cocky rarely turn out to be great lovers. Oh, and did I tell you every woman at the studio is in love with him? So annoying.”
“You did. Everyone except you, apparently, because you don’t like baggage.”
“I certainly do not. ‘Uncomplicated’ is my middle name. Baggage means it’s harder to untangle when I’m done.”
“Now I want to tell you to find your soulmate like you told me.”
“I’m not sure I even have a soul,” she laughs. “And if I did, I’d sell it to the devil for eternal youth.”
Typical Sandra. “It’s so good to have you back,” I grin, shaking my head. “I’ve missed you.”
* * * *
At dinner that night Caden is uncharacteristically quiet. Grady and I exchange glances as we watch Chloe try to engage him in conversation, but he gives her nothing at all. There are no smiles and no jokes, and he doesn’t even finish his plate of food. Usually he has seconds or even thirds. Coming from Chloe, this kind of behavior would be par for the course. Coming from Caden, it’s cause for immediate alarm.
Grady restrains me from following Caden upstairs after dinner. My son clears his plate and then trudges upstairs like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“It could be anything,” Grady replies when I ask him what he thinks is wrong with our son. “It could be a girl, a bad test grade, some kind of rumor he heard… Who knows. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to talk to either of us about it right now. Give him a day or two.”
But that worries me. “What if it’s something serious?”
“If it were serious,” Grady assures me, “Caden would tell us. We don’t have to worry so much about him. He’s an open book.”
“Do you think he’ll tell Chloe?”
“He might. But even if he doesn’t, Cass… I mean, he’s fourteen. He might not feel comfortable telling his sister what’s going on.”
“Do you think he needs therapy?” I gnaw my bottom lip and Grady grips my chin and forces me to look at him.
“I’d like to suggest that you might be overreacting just a bit, Cass.” I try to struggle from his grasp, but he holds me firm. “I don’t think we need to start him in therapy because of one off night. We don’t even know if it’s anything other than a teenage mood, but of course if we feel he needs it down the road then we’ll do it.”
“I’m just—”
“Shhh. Stop.” He silences me with a tender kiss. “You’re winding yourself up. I know you’re worried. And yes, he’s off, but give him his space tonight and see how he is in the morning, yeah?”
When I’m quiet, he prods, “He’s growing up, baby. You have to give him a little space.”
“I know he’s growing up. The other day in the car I noticed fuzz coming in above his lip, and I dropped the kids off and cried all the way to work.” Even thinking about it now, my eyes well with tears.
He presses his lips to my forehead but says nothing at all. I know he’s right that I have to let go a bit. But Caden’s my baby, and it’s hard. It takes me much longer than usual to fall asleep that night.
By the next morning Caden is better, if not fully himself again, and I realize maybe Grady’s right. He’s changing. He’s not a little boy, and it’s not easy being a teenager, even if you’re someone like Caden. By anyone’s standards he has a pretty easy life, and he’s never gotten himself into the kind of trouble a lot of other kids his age do. I’m still worried, but he talks a bit on our way to school and says goodbye like he always does. Even with whatever’s on his mind, he’s still more talkative than Chloe. I decide to leave it and just keep my eye on him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Grady
“Thank you, Lord, for our many blessings today. Thank you for the safety of everyone in this family. Thank you for the wonderful food on this table, and please send your love to those less fortunate. Thank you for my beautiful family, and I hope Carl isn’t causing too much trouble.”
We compromised on Thanksgiving dinner so we could have Renée and the kids with us. We had pizza yesterday on Thanksgiving and avoided the Black Friday crowds and traffic by having our dinner today. Jacob and Noah are at a plastic kiddie picnic table next to the adult table, and Addie is over the moon to be sitting at our table next to Chloe.
“Daddy’s causing trouble in Heaven?” Noah pipes up, and the whole table erupts in laughter.
“He better not be,” my mom declares, and the kids giggle again.
Renée looks a bit better, and I’m glad Cassie suggested the change of plans to have her here. I know Renée had a tough time being with her family yesterday, but she seems to be content with us. Not to mention Cassie can’t keep her hands off Sophie, which makes me think things I shouldn’t. At one point I look over at her and she has Sophie cradled to her chest exactly like she used to hold Chloe and Caden. I know women hold babies more or less the same, but there’s something in her face. She looks peacefully maternal.
It might be insane when we have two teenagers and we’re just a few years from our freedom, but I’d definitely have more kids if she wanted them. We could have two more, start over again, confuse people when we tell them the kids are from our first and second marriages. I’m grinning to myself at this thought when Cassie catches me staring at her and blows me a kiss.
The only thing that would make this day more perfect would be having my brother in that chair across from his wife. I want so badly to see him sitting there, watching his kids, laughing and talking with the rest of us. Everything else about this day is exactly what I’ve dreamed about for eleven years.
We stuff ourselves into a food coma. My mom, in typical fashion, grudgingly lets us clean up and tries not to hover, but as soon as we’re out of her kitchen she breaks out her arsenal of cleaning supplies.
“This is fun for me,” she protests when I try to talk her out of it. “I like my kitchen spotless. It’s my hobby. Go watch your football and leave me to it. Try to digest some of that food, we still have three pies to eat.”
Renée actually likes watching football, which Cassie definitely does not, so she takes the little ones to the attic with Chloe while Caden, Renée and I spend the afternoon shouting at the game. The faint scent of the household cleaner my mom has used faithfully all my life wafts from the kitchen, and I can’t help but smile thinking that the same traditions will still be in place for years to come. My kids and Carl’s will grow up with the same memories my brother and I held so dear, right here in this house.
* * * *
Much later, I’m lying in bed with Cassie, spooning her, my nose buried in her hair. She yawns and nestles deeper into my embrace. “I think that was our best Thanksgiving yet,” she murmurs sleepily. “If Carl was here it would’ve been perfect.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Renée seems okay, right?”
“I think so. It’s hard to tell, really. She’s not outwardly emotional, you know that. I mean, not about herself and her troubles.”
“That’s what worries me,” Cassie admits. “She’s so good at making people forget she’s just had this horrible tragedy, but I don’t know… I worry that she’s suppressing a lot of it. I talked to her about seeing someone, but I don’t know that she’ll do it. She thinks therapy’s a waste of time.”
“Not everyone is as pro-therapy as you are, baby.” I give her an affectionate squeeze.
“You wouldn’t want to know me without therapy,” she declares. “You think I’m nuts now, see me off meds and three weeks between appointments.”
It’s a total exaggeration - Cassie takes a very mild dosage of anti-anxiety medication and sees Dr. Gaul twice a month - but she’s self-conscious about her condition. It’s definitely increased since we were first together, so I’m glad she’s able to manage it with her combination of yoga, medication, and counseling. But it really isn’t a big deal.
“You’re ridiculous. And beautiful. And a little bit nuts, but only in a cute way.” I nibble her earlobe and whisper, “I love you exactly the way you are.”
And at my words she shifts in my arms until she’s facing me and says very sweetly, looking right into my eyes, “I love you, Grady.”
I’m shocked. Not because I don’t feel her love every day, because I do. Although she’s never said it back, she shows me all the time. I know she’s been holding that for something, waiting for a moment when she felt safe enough to say it.
She’s in my arms and she feels safe enough to tell me that she loves me. What a gift. My heart swells like it did when I was just a junior in high school taking my shot at a beautiful senior. I think I can’t love her more, or differently, and then she surprises me.
“Say something,” she whispers.
“Something,” I return, cradling her face in my hands and kissing her again. Her lips part beneath mine and I lose myself in the pleasure of having her back.
Memorial Day Weekend, 1999
Grady
Watching my wife’s face when we pull up to the bed & breakfast is well worth the strings I had to pull to make this weekend happen. We never had a honeymoon, so this weekend is a late substitute, if it counts to have one two years later. Her face right now? I’m guessing it counts.
The B & B looks like something out of a fairy tale, rising up out of the sand and sparkling in the sunlight. It’s a massive pink seaside Victorian, with white gingerbread trim and a mermaid on the sign. There are giant ferns and white wicker furniture on the balconies. It looks romantic, the perfect venue for a long overdue getaway with Cassie. I swear she stops breathing when we pull into the parking lot. She knew we were coming to Cape May, but I don’t think she imagined we’d be staying in a place like this. We’re young, so “nice” for us is a Holiday Inn. This confection by the sea is beyond our wildest dreams. The brochures didn’t do it justice.
“You’re kidding, right?” she breathes.
I take her hand and grin. “Nope, this is the place. Three nights.”
“Oh my God!” Her cheeks flush and she looks like she’s going to cry. “Oh my God, Grady. It’s so beautiful! I can’t believe—” Suddenly her face falls and her hand in mine becomes a death grip. “Wait, we can’t afford this! Can we?”
“I sold my old dirt bike and one of my guitars that I don’t play that much. Carl put them in the classifieds for me. We can afford it.” I cup her face and she smiles at me so beautifully that my mind goes blank.
“I love you, Grady.”
I kiss her twice before answering. Once quick and once longer and lingering. “I love you, too, Cass.”
She claps her hands and bounced in her seat with excitement. “Can we go see it now?”
I take her to see our getaway.
Later that night, after Cassie’s had a long soak in the claw foot tub and we’ve made love twice in the giant four-poster bed, we lie twined together in our favorite position: Cassie tucked in next to me, her leg slung over mine, her head on my chest. I stroke her hair and she sighs happily.
“Cass,” I murmur.
“Mmm?” she mumbles happily in return.
I hesitate before telling her what I want. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s not the right time, maybe she’s changed her mind about it since it’s been awhile since we discussed it. But our life together is so full, and so happy, and I just want… more. Just a little bit more us.
“Let’s make another baby,” I blurt. I don’t say anything else, not any of the things I want to, and when she’s silent I worry I’ve pressed her.
Then I feel her shaking in my arms and I’m terrified I’ve upset her until I realize she’s not crying, she’s laughing. She sits up on her heels and smacks my chest. “You bastard! All this time and you knew?”
I honestly have no idea what she’s talking about, and I stare at her helplessly. When it dawns on her that I’m completely clueless she starts laughing harder, and then her laughter turns into tears.
“Oh my God!” she half-laughs, half-sobs. “Grady. I’m pregnant. I was going to tell you tomorrow, and when you said that I thought you already knew and you were just teasing me!”
I sit straight up in bed and she crawls onto me, straddling my lap. “You’re gonna be a daddy again,” she whispers in my ear. “It’s a boy this time, I can feel it.”
“Are you serious?” I splay my fingers across her belly, which isn’t yet swollen, and marvel that there’s another life growing inside her. Another baby, a new person we created together from love.
“I’m so serious.” She looks like an angel to me, her face serene and happy, her eyes bright and still wet, the softest blush on her cheeks. I stir against her and we’re both surprised by it.
I clear my throat and grin at her. “Apparently that’s what putting a baby inside you does to me.”
“Apparently,” she purrs, her eyes softening and getting that hazy look they get when she wants me. She reaches between us and squeezes me, hardening me instantly, and then slowly lowers herself onto me, sighing as I spear into her.
She rocks softly and I’m lost in her. Her dark hair tumbles around our faces like a canopy, surrounding me with her scent, and my tongue thrusts into her mouth to the rhythm of her hips, making her whimper. She’s wrapped around me, her limbs twined with mine, and I am pinned to the headboard by her lush warmth. I wrap my arms around her back, my hands gripping her shoulders, and I work her onto me, picking up speed, until she breaks our kiss to pant softly into my neck. She’s close, moaning my name quietly as she jerks her hips against mine, and knowing I’m making her come again so easily arouses me even further.
“All mine,” I groan into her hair as I feel her start to shudder. I clutch her hips as she batters herself against me, then stiffens and holds her breath. A melody of pleasure escapes her, an endless sigh of satisfaction that summons forth my own release. When she whispers, “All yours,” my orgasm unfurls so violently the earth seems to tilt before it rights itself and sends us collapsing to the mattress, breathless and deliriously in love.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Cassie
On a snowy Sunday in December, three weeks before Christmas, I reach in my pocket for the set of keys that I’ve held onto for a week. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, and now Grady and I are walking Ares around the neighborhood, flakes swirling around us like we’re in a snow globe, sticking to our eyelashes and dusting our hair. Both of us are calm and happy, and I can’t think of a more perfect moment than now to give him what I want more than anything for Christmas this year.
When I press the keyring into Grady’s hand I’m surprised at the tears that spring to my eyes. “Start packing,” I say lightly.
He doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at the simple silver house with the keys attached to it. I had “Welcome Home” engraved in the metal, and watching his lips curl up in the corners I know it was the perfect touch. He stops and turns it over and over in his palm, the keys clinking against each other as he reads the other side: “Love always, Cassie.”
His arms wrap tightly around me, crushing me to him, smearing my tears all over the front of his shirt. “Cass, are you sure?” he whispers into my hair.
“Yes. As sure as I can be.” Actually, I’m still terrified, but Grady always makes it seem like everything will be okay, so I take the leap.
/>
“Kids know?”
I shake my head. “I thought we should tell them together.”
“You’re right.” He nods. “We should.” He looks thoughtful for another moment and then grins at me. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
We’ve talked about getting remarried. As usual, I’m the one dragging my feet. Grady would marry me today if he could, and it makes me feel a bit guilty, but I tell myself I’ll be ready soon. It’s not that I don’t want to be married - a new marriage, one that will bring us even more joy than our old marriage - but I need time.
“We’ll have to keep revisiting that, Grady,” I say softly, and he only looks slightly disappointed.
“You just need time,” he assures me confidently. “And you have all the time you need from me.”
Tears scald my eyes again at his endless patience, and I will my heart to take me those extra few steps to allow me to agree to be Grady’s wife again
May 8, 2001
Grady
She’s tiptoeing out of Chloe’s room when I catch her in the hallway and swing her off her feet and over my shoulder. She kicks her legs and hisses, “Put me down, you freak!” but she’s giggling the whole time.
“Carrying my bride to our bed in our new house,” I tell her, slapping her butt playfully and earning a muffled squeal.
“The baby monitors!” she protests, but I’m one step ahead of her.
“Got ‘em both.” They’re sitting next to our bed, volume turned low, tucked behind the bottle of champagne she doesn’t know I have.
When I slide her back down my body to her feet she gasps and covers her mouth. I’ve lit the whole room in candles. There’s nothing else in this room except our mattress on the floor, the bed frame propped up against the wall, and a laundry basket of essential clothes. Everything else is still downstairs, crammed in our living room.
I was supposed to be putting the bed frame together while she put Chloe to sleep, but I can do it tomorrow. There’s something about this mattress on the floor that reminds me of our very first apartment. We ate pizza and drank cheap champagne on that bed our first night and made love until we were exhausted. We definitely won’t be eating any pizza in this bed tonight - Cass instituted a “no food in the bedroom” rule long ago, and we’ve already had dinner - but I’ve got better champagne this time and I’m damn sure hoping for the sex.
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