True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story

by Willow Aster

  My parents come in first. We all hug, and I look around for Ian.

  “He couldn’t make it,” my dad jokes.

  “Not funny, Dad. Where is he?”

  “I think he wanted to make a grand entrance,” my mom says, smiling over my shoulder.

  I turn around, and he’s standing in the doorway. I go flying toward him, and he meets me halfway, picking me up and hugging me until I squeak. We kiss like it’s been three months: passionate, yet shy, hungry and tentative, all at once.

  My dad clears his throat, and we pull apart and laugh awkwardly.

  Ian leans in and whispers in my ear, “You’re trying to kill me, right here in front of your parents. What the hell? Why ya have to look so damn gorgeous?”

  I giggle and lean in for another kiss.

  We stare at each other, intense and bashful. It’s always like this when we first see each other. It makes all the missing worth it—this giddy rush of being together again.

  “You look beautiful, Rosie,” my dad says.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Both of Ian’s arms are around me, and he suddenly lets go with one and grasps his hair in a violent tug. Then he’s back, and he softly places a kiss on the back of my neck. “So beautiful,” he groans.

  Christmas time in Manhattan is magical. Last year we spent Christmas in California, and it was lovely. It seems as if it’s the sunniest time of the year there. But I love having the snow and brisk air during the holidays. All the white lights on the trees make it feel like an enchanted dreamland, and it’s magnified when I’m holding Ian’s hand.

  Our dining experience is fine dining at its best. I’ve never had such good food in all my life. We have a wonderful time during dinner. I’m so glad my parents love Ian. They still occasionally bring up Michael, but know I was never in love with him. I think they believe Ian’s a better fit for me, too, which is such a relief.

  “Little Bird? You with us?” Ian grins over at me. Between the two of us, we’re two spacey beings. He can be writing a song in his mind, and I have a hard time shutting my thoughts and stories down. It’s amazing we can communicate with one another at all.

  “I’m here.” I reach over and touch his cheek. He is stunning. Looking at him still makes my heart go all wacky. His black suit still has a rocker vibe to it; he looks good enough to eat. My cheeks splotch at the thought, and I have to rein it in. “I’m just thinking about how happy I am that we’re all together. I don’t know when I’ve ever been as content as I am right now, here with the three of you. I’ve missed you so much.” I look at each one of them in the eye and blink back the tears that are threatening to spill.

  Ian kisses my hand and my dad pats my other hand. We all have a heartwarming moment and then dessert comes … after a 9-course meal. I can’t even explain how spectacular the desserts are. It’s a small buffet of mini-desserts that arrives at our table, and I try it all. Heaven.

  After our dinner, my parents go back to my apartment, claiming they’re worn out from the long travel day. I get the impression they’re in on whatever Ian has cooked up for me. We hop in a cab and go to Swing 46.

  “Your dress is perfect for this,” Ian says as we get inside, “when I twirl you around, I can totally catch a peek,” he whispers.

  I give him a tiny smirk. “I’ve been wanting to come here!”

  “Let’s do this.”

  We dance the night away, and it’s such fun. I can’t get enough. Ian was made for me. I’m sure of it. We just fit. His eyes don’t leave me the whole night; his gaze is hypnotic, pulling me in deeper with each look. It’s not all serious. We have a hard time not laughing when we’re together, so there’s plenty of that too. The evening feels like a long love letter, with sweet touches and looks speaking volumes of truth.

  I think we’re the last ones to leave. I lean my head back on Ian’s shoulder on the ride back to my place.

  “You sleepy, Little Bird?”

  “I’m happy.” I smile at him. I turn to kiss him as his hand softly touches my neck.

  “I love you, Sparrow Kate Fisher.”

  “I love you, Ian Orville Sterling.”

  My mom has the couch all made up for Ian when we get inside. He smiles when he sees it. He hugs me tight and gives me a chaste kiss. “Thank you for one of the best nights ever,” he says. “Goodnight, baby.”

  “Night.” I look at him longingly as I go to my room. It’s really hard leaving him there.

  The next few days are excruciating. Being around each other constantly, after such a long time apart and still not having much time alone, is a struggle for me. I can’t concentrate on what anyone around me is saying.

  I want Ian more than food or water. More than air.

  He’s acting like it’s no big deal. Like he can be around me and not cave. It’s been three freaking months. I expected him to sneak in my room at night. I thought he wouldn’t be able to stay away from me. But he does. And it drives me CRAZY.

  By Christmas Eve, I’m agitated with him. I’m snippy at our sweet family dinner. I practically growl at Ian, and he just looks at me, lovingly and amused. My parents look concerned. Charlie asks if I’m coming down with something.

  I can’t wait to go to Minnesota.

  I try to go to bed earlier than normal because I’m having a really hard time not snapping Ian’s head off. He’s making me feel even worse by being so sweet.

  He gives me a soft kiss by my door. “I love being here like this, with you and your family … feeling part of something more … sorry, I’m just … I love you, baby,” he whispers.

  “I love you.”

  “Get to sleep so Santa can come.” He winks, and then looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

  I kiss his cheek and feel like a heel when I close the door. What’s wrong with me? I should just be happy he’s here, not a walking horn dog.

  I’m sound asleep and dreaming about Ian. It’s such a good dream and in it I begin to moan. He’s making me feel so good. I’m jarred awake when a hand lightly clamps over my mouth. Ian’s head is between my legs, his tongue working wonders, and he’s trying to keep me quiet. I pull the pillow over my face and try to restrain myself. It’s hopeless. He’s too good at what he does.

  I grab his face. “Get in me. NOW.”

  He doesn’t hesitate. He slides up my body and sinks into me, deep. I’m ready for him. He kisses me hard and we hold on tight as we both immediately lose control.

  He strokes my hair as I fall back into a deep sleep.

  Christmas morning, I wake up early and stretch, smiling from ear to ear. I had the best sleep and the best dreams. I brush my teeth and go into the living room to see if Ian is awake. He is. He’s got his arms propped up behind his head, and he’s looking at the tree. He looks deep in thought.

  I walk to the couch and he looks up at me. “There’s my girl. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” I smile at him and he returns it tentatively.

  “You like me again?” He looks grave as he says it.

  “Of course I do, I never stopped,” I groan. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I’ve been rotten.”

  He pulls me down on top of him and kisses me. “You weren’t rotten. I just thought maybe you were having second thoughts about me.”

  I lean my forehead on his. “I’m sorry. You were just so fine about not being with me. It was … getting to me.”

  I hide my face in his shoulder. I’m so embarrassed, both for how I’ve acted and that I told him.

  “Baby,” he holds my face in his hands and smooths down my hair, “I’ve been dying. I’ve just been trying to be respectful of your parents. Last night, I couldn’t take it any longer.”

  I let out a relieved laugh. “I do feel like a new woman this morning.”

  “If I’d known you were that hot for me, I would have taken you in the stairwell and fixed you up. You’ve been so on edge, I thought maybe I was getting on your nerves.”

  I let out a
long sigh. “You never get on my nerves. I’m only sorry that I wasted any time with you. I won’t let it happen again. Next time, I’ll jump your bones before you can leave me high and dry.”

  He laughs. “You said, ‘jump your bones.’”

  “You’re corrupting me.”

  Ian and I sit in front of the tree and give our presents to each other. He has a little pile and I have a little pile. The lights from the tree make his eyes glow more than ever.

  “Last Christmas was the first time I’d given presents to a girl,” he whispers.

  “Really? You didn’t tell me that.” I’m shocked.

  He holds up his foot and he’s wearing the elephant socks that I gave him last Christmas. I laugh whenever I see them. They’re ugly, but he still loves them.

  “I didn’t want to scare you off on our first Christmas, but yeah, another first for me.” He smiles and when I hand him a present, he looks like a little boy; he’s so excited. Between each present, we kiss sweet, playful kisses that make my heart flutter. I give him the softest blanket I’ve ever touched, for those nights on the bus when he’s missing me and needs something to remind him of me. He gives me perfume from Paris that I can actually smell—it smells divine. I give him a photo album of all of our trips together. He gives me a sexy red blouse and whispers that there’s something to match it that he’ll give me later. I give him a baseball shirt—white with red sleeves that says, “Raw Bows” on it.

  I point to the red sleeves and then the words, “Raw Bows.” We have a good laugh over that.

  We each have one thing left to give the other. I hear my parents rustling in the other room. I know they probably don’t want to miss out, but we’re enjoying this time, just the two of us. The whole morning feels like we’re in a magical bubble, on our own little cloud.

  “Here, you go first,” I say and hold his last present out.

  Ian leans over and gets in my face. “I just want you to know … that if you didn’t get me a single present … the way you love me would be more than enough.”

  He makes my heart squeeze when he talks like that.

  He slowly unwraps the box, not tearing a single scrap. He folds it carefully and sets it aside like he’s going to save the paper. I love him for these little quirks.

  He opens the box to see another box inside—a small wooden box with intricate carvings on the outside. It’s a beautiful piece of art in itself, handmade by a guy I saw at an outdoor artisan fair.

  “Look inside,” I urge.

  When he opens the box, his breath hitches. There are 100 guitar picks in every color. Some of them have small pictures of me, some have both of us. Others have a sparrow on them. He runs his fingers through them and studies each one. He doesn’t say a word. I thought he’d laugh and maybe toss them out in his playful way, but his face is serious as he looks at all of them.

  “This is the best present I’ve ever been given,” he says softly. When he looks at me, his eyes water. I’ve never seen him get teary. “I love this. Thank you, Sparrow.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m so glad you like them.” I feel shy all of a sudden.

  He kisses me, his brow crinkled in either concentration or passion. I’m not sure which, but he means it, either way.

  “Okay. One more for you. Know that if you don’t like this, we can do something else.”

  I frown at him. “Don’t be silly. It’s wrapped so pretty. What is it?” I give it a good shake.

  “Open it!”

  I tear it open, unable to unwrap as carefully as he does. Inside is a sterling silver charm bracelet with hanging charms. It’s wonderful. Each charm makes me smile and love him more. There’s a cupcake, a book, a tiny replica of the houseboat, a sparrow and the only thing with color are two red bows spaced between the other charms.

  “We were on the same wavelength with that,” he says as he fingers the red bows, “I just couldn’t figure out how to portray ‘raw’ with a charm.”

  Hilarious.

  “I love it, Ian. So much. It’s perfect.” I hold it up for him to put it on me. He kisses the inside of my wrist before he latches the clasp. “This is the best present I’ve ever been given.”

  We’re kissing when my parents come out. They’re shocked that we opened our presents without them, but when they see how happy we are, they can’t stay perturbed.

  “This is the best Christmas ever,” Ian sings in place of a greeting.

  “Oh, just you wait. We’re just getting started,” my dad sings back.

  - 20 -

  Minnesota really is a winter wonderland. I didn’t know there could be so much snow in one place. It’s breathtaking. As Ian and I drive from the airport to his mother’s house, I stay glued to my window. The snow is hanging heavily on the limbs of the trees, outlining each branch. Ian says they’ve just had a snowfall for the snow to still be attached like that.

  Ian pulls off by one of the many lakes and gives me a mischievous grin. “Want to take a mini-detour?” he asks.

  “Uh … sure?” I have no idea what he’s up to.

  The next thing I know, we’re driving out onto a frozen lake. Driving!

  “What—are you doing?” I squeal.

  Ian does figure eights with the car and turns just sharp enough that we slide on the ice.

  “Ian!” I keep my hands gripped on my seat, afraid to move.

  “See all the ice houses?” He points behind us. I turn around and see tons of little tiny houses on the ice. “It’s safe right now. Give it a few months, and I wouldn’t be doing this…”

  I breathe much easier when we’re back on a normal road. I love all the old houses and notice there are hardly any fences anywhere. Everyone in California has a fence, even if their yards are tiny. The sun is setting as Ian drives down a dead-end street and pulls in the driveway of an old farmhouse sitting alone on ten acres.

  “Mom moved here when I was just graduating, so I didn’t spend much time here, but it’s as much home as I’ve got,” Ian says. “It’s beautiful in the summer.”

  Ian seems more vulnerable than usual. It makes me want to wrap him up and protect him from whatever and whoever has hurt him. I lean over and kiss him before getting out of the car.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  He looks at me intently. “I’m glad you’re here, Sparrow.”

  I go to the trunk to get my luggage and Ian has it all.

  “Can I carry something?” I offer.

  “Just carry your beauty, baby. That’s gotta be a heavy weight all its own.”

  I snort. “You’re something else.”

  “What? I’m just speaking the truth.”

  I’m still laughing as the door opens and Ian’s mom rushes out. She’s hugging me and kissing Ian and talking a mile a minute.

  “I’m so excited you’re here. Oh, you’re just gorgeous. I can’t believe it. Merry Christmas! I’m Ellen. Ian, you look better than I’ve ever seen you. Sparrow must be good for you.” She takes a breath and laughs nervously, her hands clasped together. “Come in, come in, I’ve got the turkey and dressing all ready for you.

  Ellen is beautiful and so kind. She’s tall and graceful, and her eyes remind me of Ian’s, full of expression and changing colors. I feel at home right away. We sit down to eat, just the three of us, and she takes us both by the hand to give thanks. Ian favors her so much. It’s fun to see the two of them interact. He’s so sweet with her.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my boy,” she says, patting his cheek.

  “Sorry, Mom. It’s been a crazy year, and when I’m not playing a gig, I’m trying to figure out how to get to Sparrow.”

  “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you put in that effort.” She looks at me. “I was starting to wonder if it was ever gonna happen.”

  I smile at her and my chest expands with relief that she actually likes me.

  Later, Ian is upstairs taking a shower, and Ellen and I are talking in the living room.

&n
bsp; “I don’t know if you know what a big deal it is for you to be here,” she says.

  “Well, everywhere we go, Ian never seems to be suffering from lack of female attention,” I tell her. “I just assumed that you would have met a lot of girlfriends over the years.”

  “He doesn’t tell me anything, and he’s never brought anyone home, especially for Christmas. That’s why I knew when he told me about you last year around this time, that you must be someone special.” She leans in closer and says quietly, “He has a lot of hang-ups about commitment and even more about marriage.” She shakes her head. “I just hope he can let all of that go with you, sweetheart. He hasn’t had any examples of a good marriage in his life. Not one.”

  I nod my head and want her to keep talking, even though uneasiness has settled in my gut. Because for all the ways Ian shows me he loves me, he really doesn’t talk about commitment, and he doesn’t demand it of me. He didn’t like it when those guys kissed me, but it wasn’t a deal breaker for him. I was grateful for it at the time, but now it’s troubling me. I’ve tried so hard not to make him feel any pressure about the future. I’m still young, but also, I think I’ve been afraid of scaring him off.

  In some ways, it’s possible that I’ve given him the perfect set-up. We have these blissful times every couple of months, and then we both go live our lives apart. How long will this be enough for me?

  When Ian comes in the room, looking all perfect after his shower, I decide to get another shower myself. It’s late and I’m feeling the fatigue of the day catching up with me. I go ahead and say goodnight, thinking Ian will enjoy some time alone with his mom. He gives me a look of concern as he kisses my cheek on my way out of the room. Sometimes I wish he couldn’t read my face so well.

  Ian’s room is a later addition to the old house. It’s above the kitchen and has hardwood floors and wainscoting halfway up the wall. It’s a big room but still feels cozy. When I’m done in the shower, I crawl into his huge bed and pile the heavy blankets over me. I don’t even hear when Ian comes to bed.