Deciding Tomorrow

by Ericson, Renee

  Satisfied, Brent adjusts to his knees and gently nudges my shoulder toward the bed until I’m lying on my back. His hands never leave my body, massaging every cell they meet. Slowly and deliberately, he slides his hand under the hem of my tank, lifting it to just below my breasts. Planting his lips on the exposed flesh, Brent tightens his grip around my hips and extracts the pain placed in my womb so long ago. He wants it, and I give him what is left of it. The echo of what we made transfers to him, releasing me of its bonds.

  Crawling over my body riddled in scars, seen and unseen, Brent kisses away the wetness on my cheeks. “I’ll take these, too,” he states compassionately. “Let them all go.”

  And I do. I feel it all, all of it, all over again—the love we had, the loss of our baby, the pain of watching someone else carry a child, the dark abyss, the tortuous nightmares, the loneliness, the emptiness, the sadness, and the farewells to the man now holding me in his arms.

  They’re all gone into the air, into nothing.

  All that’s left is him.

  Him and me.

  He took away the armor, the crutches of my life. Until this moment, I never realized I was holding on to the pain of the past like a comforting blanket, and only this man could remove it. I couldn’t do it on my own, no matter how hard I might have tried to expel the agony or thought I already did. Some things were meant for Brent. Some things were meant for him to take. Freedom wasn’t possible without him.

  Worn and spent, I welcome Brent’s tender hands along my body. Even his touch feels new, but maybe that’s because I’m anew. I am fresh clay, raw and pliable, without a mold. I sense him for the first time, really feeling him.

  “Brent,” I say, cupping his face in my hands, “I’m yours.”

  In the dark room, a sliver of light pierces through the curtains, and Brent sees me. I let him see all of me. He doesn’t have to dig or search because I’m handing myself—everything I really am and didn’t know I was or will be—completely over to him.

  He knows.

  “I knew you were in there,” he says, relieved.

  “Waiting for you.”

  Leaning down, Brent softly kisses my sensitive lips, exploring them timidly with his own. My hands skim down his chest. Moving to the hem of my tank, I tug it over my head. I toss it to the floor and then reach for his shirt.

  “I can’t,” he admits as my fingers pull at the bottom of his shirt. “We can’t tonight.”

  “Why?” I ask, the weight of denial sinking in.

  “I want to.” He encircles his hand around mine. “But I don’t have anything.”

  Without any words, I roll away underneath his body to the side of the bed and reach down toward my purse.

  “I’m sorry,” he says in a pleading tone, sweeping the hair off my shoulder. He kisses my bare shoulder, making a line of love, as he caresses up the length of my neck. “You know I can’t go through that again. We can…”

  Releasing my head to the side, I give his mouth easier access to the delicate skin. My hands blindly search through my bag until I find the condom as Brent apologizes with his lips along my throat.

  I hand the item of concern over my shoulder. “Here,” I say, breathless. “Take it.”

  His mouth pauses for a mere second as my intention registers, and the contraceptive leaves my fingers, transferring to his. Brent continues to kiss my neck, my shoulder, and the curve of my hip. He removes his clothes, puts on the condom, and then frees me of my panties. His mouth commences to worship my body, every inch, up and down. Still on my side, I reach behind me and tug on Brent’s hair. I arch my back against his erection, wanting him to touch the rest of me.

  “Hang on,” he murmurs next to my ear. “I’ve got you.”

  Brent opens my body for the taking and glides his hand through my slippery folds, flirting and tempting my desire. I shiver from his evocative touch. Freeing my mound, he tauntingly guides his erection into me. Then, he grabs the space under my knee and pulls it toward my chest, spreading me further. I drive my hips backward, hungry for more of him inside me. Twisting my torso, I find his lips with my own and open my mouth, rubbing our tongues together, as our bodies work in rhythm. The heat of his body consumes my every cell.

  “All of you, every fucking piece,” he pants. “I want it all.”

  “I want you, too.”

  “I was yours from the moment you looked at me.”

  He releases my leg and shifts our weight so that my stomach is pressed firmly against the sheets. Brent palms my hips, pulls them to the sky, and then encases my entire body with his. His teeth gently nibble at one shoulder as he circles his arm over the other and kneads my breast. I push toward Brent as I open my legs wide, allowing him to enter me fully and possess my body and soul. He’s filling the clean slate of my life that was once weighed down by persistent dark memories.

  His fingers cradle my jaw, lifting it to his mouth. He seduces my tongue, consuming all that I am.

  “I love you,” I breathe in the moment of passion. “I need you.”

  “You have me.” His fingers thread into my hair. “Fuck! You fucking own me.” He powers into me harder. “I’m nothing without you.”

  His lips feverishly press to mine, joining us inside and out. Our breaths labor as he thrusts into me harder, softer, and then harder again. Pleasure is mounting for both of us.

  With our mouths still connected, Brent slides his hand under my belly and between my legs where his cock is gliding in and out of me. My open body seeks his fingers and clenches around his length while his moist breath skims across my neck. He’s breaking me down even further to the bare bones.

  “More,” I beg on a breath.

  Brent sucks on my ear, slips his hand beneath my arm, and finds my lips while the other continues to circle between my legs. He offers a digit to my mouth, and I suck it passionately. He’s all over me, in me, on top of me, and surrounding me. There’s no place he isn’t touching, taking, and claiming.

  The fierce heat builds and takes over. A wave of adrenaline flashes through my body, and the intense carnal tingles are completely beyond my control. I pulse around him and quiver from my core to every flowing molecule within my body as I moan around his finger for what feels like an eternity. The orgasm is so powerful and beyond me that I don’t even know who I am.

  Brent thrusts into me, grunting pleasurably in the midst of my zealous cries, and then collapses over my shivering, quaking form.

  I’m lost in us.

  I am changed forever.

  There’s nothing left.

  All that remains is the man panting heavily near my ear—filling, holding, and loving me.

  TWENTY-ONE

  A light dusting of snow scatters in the air on this cool Saturday morning in December. Brent and I went to breakfast, and we are now walking back to my place with no set schedule. I just have to work later this evening, so we have all day to ourselves.

  Two weeks have passed since Thanksgiving. Coming back to Chicago and adding a little distance has helped with the strain between Cody, Brent, and me. I’ve spoken to Cody and Shauna on the phone, checking in on how they are adjusting to being parents. Thankfully, other than sleepless nights, everyone is doing fine. Last week, when saying good-bye to Cody, I almost fell out of my bed when he asked for me to say hi to Brent for him. So, there has been some progress with Cody opening up to the idea of Brent and further accepting us as a couple.

  As for Brent and me, we’ve fallen into an easy pattern. I spend most of my days at school while he trains at a local facility. We have dinner together, and then I study as he reads. We just enjoy one another’s company. I still have to work a few days a week for income, but I have been limiting the number of shifts while he’s in town.

  This time together has brought us closer than I think we have ever been before. Every minute we spend in one another’s company fills a place deeper in my heart and in those tiny crevices that have been untouched and neglected for years. He’s reaching
in deep—digging, searching, and taking hold.

  The snow picks up, getting thicker in the muted blue sky. Brent holds my hand as we meander down the street full of restaurants and shops just opening for business.

  “I want to go in here,” he says, leading me toward a store where a customer has just walked out.

  Glancing inside the window, I notice nothing but housewares, and I freeze. “Why do you want to go in there?”

  “Just ’cause.” He pulls me along. “C’mon, just for a minute.”

  Shaking my head, I relent and follow Brent into the shop filled with plush furniture, dishes, lamps, and other household knickknacks. Weaving through the mock setup of living rooms, we walk slowly through the store with my fingers trailing along the fabrics, the wooden tables, the bronze bases of the lamps, and the silk florals decorating many of the solid surfaces. We take a flight of stairs, only to find a large collection of seating—couches, love seats, overstuffed and regular chairs, and a variety of benches and barstools.

  I still have no idea what we’re doing here as we continue to stroll along with no purpose. Coming upon a leather-upholstered chair, Brent takes a seat and smooths his hands over the arms. I sit down across from him on a chenille taupe love seat. I unbutton my coat, so I don’t overheat.

  “Are you shopping?” I ask, removing my hat and taming some of the fly away strands of my hair.

  “Not really.” He leans back, getting comfortable. “Maybe a little. I don’t know.”

  “Well, that’s nice.” I gesture toward the chair he’s seated in. “Leather is always a good choice.”

  “Yeah, it is. Reminds me of the one my dad used to keep in his office. Do you remember that?”

  “I do.” Heat rises to my cheeks. “Didn’t we once…you know?”

  “I think we did,” he admits. That freaking dimple comes out.

  “So, maybe that’s why you like it?”

  “Could be.” He suggestively waggles his brows.

  “Is it comfortable?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Very.” He straightens, sitting properly. “What about that one?”

  “What one?”

  “The one you’re sitting on. Is it comfortable?”

  I slouch back, trying it out in a lazy way. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s okay. It’s a couch.”

  Brent steps out of the chair and joins me on the taupe love seat, touching his knee to mine. In an exaggerated motion, he mocks a yawn as he stretches out his arms, one coming to rest over my shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

  “Smooth, really slick.” I giggle as my hand finds his knee.

  “That’s because I’m so stealth.”

  “Yeah, your ninja-like prowess is unprecedented.”

  “Exactly. You never see it coming.”

  “Never.” I laugh. “I was totally shocked.”

  Together, we sit and watch a couple across the room. They’re checking out an oversized red chair while talking with a salesperson about fabric selections.

  “Did you know,” Brent starts, his focus still on the couple at the other end of the store, “that you own more furniture than me?”

  “Huh?” I adjust myself, leaning into the corner of the sofa. “That’s impossible. I only own a bed.”

  “It’s true. I don’t own anything. My entire apartment came furnished, right down to the silverware.” He places his palm over mine on his knee. “I don’t even own my car. It’s a lease.”

  “I don’t own a car either,” I say, like it’s not a big deal. “Haven’t since high school.”

  “You probably don’t need one in the city.”

  “That’s true. It’s easier to just rent one when you need it.”

  “Anyhow,” he continues, “I like to come to stores like this every once in a while.”

  “To window-shop for furniture?”

  “I guess you can call it that. When you live in a place filled with stuff that isn’t yours, you start to wonder what kind of things you like. I’ve had a transient lifestyle for so long, and it’s easy to lose track of things like that. You almost lose your identity in a way, never really having anything to call your own. Anyhow, I like to see what I do like to make sure I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Living like that must be hard. It sounds almost…empty.”

  “It can be, but I guess there are worse things.”

  “Yeah, there likely are.” I tilt my head toward the leather club chair across from us. “You seem to like that.”

  “I do. One of these days, I’ll probably actually break down and get one.” He stands up with his hand outstretched, and he pulls me to my feet. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I ask as we walk through the showroom.

  “Do you like any of these?” he asks, gesturing to the furnishings.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I wasn’t really looking.”

  “Humor me.” He rubs my back. “I’m curious. If you could have anything, anything here, what would it be?”

  Squinting, I measure Brent’s motives. “Are you trying to play house with me?”

  “Yes, next stop, we’re picking out dishes, and then we’re going to the pet store, so you can get a cute Labrador. Oh, and then after that, we’re shopping for drapes.”

  I crack up. “Funny.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m just curious.”

  “Fine,” I huff, making my way through the maze of furniture.

  I pass by a lot of extravagant pieces upholstered in fine fabrics with an exorbitant amount of trim. None of them are even close to anything I would ever want to own. We enter a smaller room filled with more basic pieces. There aren’t many, but my eyes are drawn toward a two-seater cornflower-blue sofa in the corner. I head toward it.

  Brent cuts around me and takes a seat in the canvas-covered love seat I was drawn to, his arms spreading across the back. “This one?” he asks, brows raised. “I bet you like this one.”

  I plop down next to him, the soft cushion comfortably holding my weight. “I like it.” I bounce a little. “Yeah, I’d probably go with this. It’s comfy and not too gaudy. Could fit in any room.”

  He fingers the ends of my hair. “I’d probably pick something like this, too, if I were in the market.”

  “Ah, so you were testing me to see if we have similar taste?”

  “Something like that.” He kisses me on the nose. “More just wanted to see how well I know you.”

  “And?”

  “I think you’re an open book.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Sure is.”

  Brent’s index finger brushes my shoulder, back and forth, as I graze my hand along the length of his. We’re content, loving this normal, everyday moment. Some people might get bored while doing nothing of importance—sitting on a sofa in a store with no purpose other than to sit next to one another—but not me. Simplicity is often underrated.

  “This is nice,” I disclose, my fingers playing with his.

  “What’s that?”

  “You.” I shrug. “Me.”

  “And this couch,” he adds.

  “Yes, and this couch.” Leaning toward him, I brush my lips across his ear. “Nothing makes a girl feel sexy like a man on a cornflower-blue sofa.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It sure is.” I blow a heated breath across his neck.

  He shivers. “You need to stop that.” He stills.

  “Stop what?” My tongue lightly licks his ear. “That?”

  “Yes,” he whispers, unmoving. “I don’t want to frighten any women or children when I bend you over and rip off your clothes.”

  I kiss the place where his stubbled jawline meets his neck, and then I sit back, creating some needed space in order to calm the rising hormones. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

  He shakes his head. “You are going to be in so much trouble later.”

  “Oh.” In an overly excited fashion, I pounce and wrap my arms around the center of his body. “I
hope so. I hope I’m in big trouble, gigantic.”

  “Get up.” He tickles my side. “Let’s go before you jump me and scare innocent bystanders.”

  Hopping off the sofa, I step aside, allowing Brent to rise as well. He takes my hand in his, and we descend the steps to the first floor before walking onto the street.

  The sun is just peeking through the clouds, causing the light falling snow to sparkle like fragmented glass. It’s beautiful. Heading toward my building, we travel three blocks down the street and then turn into a more residential part of the neighborhood. We’re the only ones on the sidewalk for a few blocks.

  “I have something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Brent says out of nowhere.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s about Christmas.”

  “Is this the part where you ask me not to buy you anything?” I bump his hip with mine.

  “That’s not what I was going to say, but yeah, note that, too. I don’t want you to buy me anything.”

  I stick out my lower lip in a fake pout. “You’re no fun at all.”

  “Fine,” he sighs with humor. “You can buy me a present. Happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you aren’t allowed to spend more than twenty dollars on it.”

  “Wow, a whole twenty dollars.” I place my hand over my heart. “Brent, I’m in shock. That’s a lot of money.”

  “Well, you don’t have to spend it all.”

  I squint. “Same goes for you if we’re doing this gift thing. No more than twenty dollars, and I mean it.”

  “Evil.” He mock growls. “You are pure evil, but I agree.”

  “Perfect.”

  Plastering a fake and gloating smile, I continue our walk home with Brent by my side. He grabs the back of my arm.

  “I still need to ask you something,” he reminds me. “About Christmas.”