by Nikki Ash
No, that wasn’t true. He was going to know today. At this moment.
Right now.
“I’m in love with you—”
“I’m in love with you—”
We both spoke at the same time, the words war between us, hanging in the air, so thick you could cut them with a knife. I felt my eyes widen. I watched as his did the same.
It was Jameson who spoke first, his voice seeming even deeper. “W-What…” His eyes were so wide. “Say that again,” he said the latter so softly I almost didn’t hear.
I smoothed my hands up and down my thighs, trying to calm down, trying to look like I wasn’t about to jump out of my own skin. “I’m in love with you, Jameson.” I swallowed down the bile that rose up in my throat, my uncertainty of the situation so consuming that if I wasn’t sitting down I surely would have fainted.
“I’ve been in love with you for so long, but too afraid to speak the words aloud, too terrified that things would be ruined between us.” I looked down at my feet, ones that were covered in plain white cotton socks that didn’t keep out the chill in the air whatsoever. “You’re all I have, Jameson. You’re my family, my best friend... my everything.” I looked at him then and his eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw tight. I didn’t know what emotions were playing across his expression. I couldn’t read him at that moment.
His big body shook as if he couldn’t control the action. “You’re all I have too, Lia.” He looked like he was going to cry, but after a moment of silence, as if he were trying to gather himself, he looked back down at Caleb. “You’re my everything.” His words were low, loving. “Both of you are now my everything.”
I had my hand placed right over my heart, not realizing I’d done the act until after the fact.
“I am so in love with you.” He looked back at me and I felt the stupidest smile cover my face. “For longer than I want to admit.” He laughed softly. “And yeah, I was afraid of everything I’d lose if I admitted it and you weren’t on the same page as me.” He shook his head slowly. “I should have been a man and told you, not wasting time, not wasting what we could have had, no matter what could have happened.” He looked at Caleb and I swore it seemed like Jameson was going to cry. “And you gave me this, him, a baby, Lia.” He coughed as if he was choked up. I quickly wiped my falling tears of happiness away. “You made me a father.” He lifted Caleb up and kissed his little head, closing his eyes as he did the act.
I made a sound deep in my throat, one of happiness and relief and everything that I’d ever hoped and dreamed happening for our reunion.
“I recorded everything that happened while you were away, during the pregnancy. I have pictures and videos, journal entries, too.” He snapped his head up to me, surprise on his face. I shrugged. “I figured you might want to see all that, but if not—”
“Come here,” he murmured to me softly, and I shifted closer to him so we were thigh to thigh, Jameson’s big body pressed to my much smaller one. “Thank you. I want to see it all. I want to feel like I didn’t miss out on a single moment.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him even more. “My little family,” he said in this deliriously happy voice, a smile spreading over his face. “All mine.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against his bicep, never realizing how much I’d wanted this to be my reality until I was experiencing it. I’d only ever dreamed of it. I’d only ever wondered what this would be like.
But here I was. Here we were. Making our very own future.
Epilogue One
One year later
Jameson
I sighed in contentment as I pulled Lia in closer--impossibly closer if I was being honest. She was already pressed right to me, but fuck, I wanted her closer. I closed my eyes and buried my face in her hair, inhaling deeply, the scent of the rose shampoo she always used causing fire to stir within me. I’d just made love to her good and hard, long and slow, yet I was ready to go again.
The baby monitor on the bedside table showed little Caleb was still fast asleep, and although we’d hoped he’d be sleeping through the night by now, there were times--stretches even--that he didn’t. But no matter how tired I was, I wouldn’t change this for anything.
I smoothed my hand over her arm, grabbed her wrist gently, and lifted her hand up and out of the blankets so I could look at the wedding ring she wore. I’d asked her to marry me as soon as I’d gotten back home, and knew that's what I wanted to do even before I knew about baby Caleb.
I’d just wanted Lia in my life, and I would have done anything to make that a reality.
The last year had gone by in a blur of tears and laughs, smiles and stress. And yeah, it was fucking hard being a parent and a husband, and making sure I didn’t screw things up. I worked a lot because of my medical background, and Lia talked about going back to school, which made the stress on her even greater. And at the base of my core I just wanted to make things okay for her. I wanted things to be easy for us, always happy, and where we weren’t wanting to pull our hair out because Caleb got into the flour and decided to use it in the kitchen like we needed a remodel.
But once again… I wouldn’t change it all for the world.
We only had this one moment in time, this slice of life that would never happen again.
I’d never see my son at this exact same age. I’d never hold my wife in this way ever again. And I never wanted to take it for granted.
“If I could marry you all over again, I would, Lia,” I found myself saying before I even knew the words were out in the open. She slept soundly, not even me lifting her arm waking her. And I couldn’t deny I liked the fact she felt so utterly safe and protected in my arms, that she could be this deep in sleep.
I wrapped my arm around her again and buried my nose in her hair, inhaling once more.
“I love you more each and every day,” I whispered into the strands. “Thank you for being my best friend, for being my wife, and for giving me Caleb. Thank you for making me a husband and a father.” My arm tightened around her reflexively. “It’s always been you.” I leaned down to kiss the soft skin on her shoulder. “And there will never be anyone else for me for as long as I live.” Truer words had never been spoken in the history of mankind.
Epilogue Two
Ten Years Later
Jameson
This never got old…never got any less incredible.
Not to me. Not ever.
I sat in what I knew was one hell of an uncomfortable hospital chair, but I was so deliriously happy that I could have had my ass on barbed wire and I wouldn’t have felt anything but joy.
The little bundle cradled in one of my arms was so tiny, so light, it was almost like I held nothing at all. I stared down at my son, Abel, who had a head full of dark hair like Lia, and who, when I’d seen his eyes open, had looked at blue as mine, just like his older brother’s. I loved him so much already. A tiny shift in my other arm had me looking at our daughter, Cellie, who, just like her older twin brother, had a head of dark hair, but eyes that looked like they’d be Lia’s shade.
She already had me wrapped around her little finger.
The twins had been a surprise, the pregnancy not planned, but they were the best kind of shock, the kind that made you feel whole in every single way.
God, I didn’t think my heart could have gotten fuller after finally making Lia mine and starting a family with her with Caleb, but here we were, all these years later and everything feeling like it was absolutely the way it should be.
I lifted my head and stared at Lia. She wasn’t just my wife, my soulmate, my best friend, or the mother of my three children. She was my absolute, without fault, everything.
My everything.
And as I stared at her holding our oldest, Caleb, both of them snuggled together as they slept, Caleb so big already that he would soon tower over his mother in the next couple of years, I felt myself smile. He might be the oldest, but he was, and would forever be, a mama’s boy, and did
n’t that just make me smile even more.
I looked back down at Abel and Cellie, the twins sleeping soundly, at least until they roused because they were hungry; but right now, in this moment, with the stillness and quiet surrounding them, I could just let myself go and know that everything would be okay.
Because these four people in the room with me were my world and I'd do everything in my power to make sure they were always safe and protected.
They’d never doubt how loved they were.
Snapshot by Marley Valentine
Chapter One
Blake
Before
“Just close your eyes,” the photographer, Liza, instructs. “I don’t want to put a blindfold over your eyes and ruin your makeup, but the element of surprise is something I most definitely want to capture.”
“It’s fine,” I respond as she takes hold of my elbow and guides me to whichever end of the penthouse the photo shoot is taking place. “Just don’t let me fall, these heels are ridiculously high.”
Together we walk in complete silence, and I feel my anxiety ratchet up a notch at the prospect of being intimate with a complete stranger.
When the ad to sign up for a photo shoot with a stranger featured on my Instagram Stories, I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the whole concept. My friends have been using apps like Tinder and Bumble to try and date and hook up for ages, so it’s not like the idea is completely foreign. It’s just not something I’ve ever done before.
“Okay, we’re here,” Liza announces. “Keep those eyes closed, and I’m going to bring in your mystery man.”
“I’ll be here waiting,” I joke, because we both know I’m not planning on walking around wearing a blindfold.
Alone, with my eyes closed, all my other senses work overtime as I prepare for the imminent arrival of my shoot partner. My pulse races at what feels like an unnatural speed while the beat of my heart tries and fails to regulate. To say I’m inexperienced when it comes to spontaneity is an understatement.
I’m the girl who wrote her yearly goals out on a yellow legal pad, and had been since I was seven years old. As each year passed me by, I became more and more determined to have every goal crossed out by the time the new year rolled around.
And now I’m a thirty-year-old woman who gets excited by to-do lists, spreadsheets, daily planners, and conversations about her ten-year plan.
Correction
I was that woman. Now… now, I’m not sure who I am.
The sound of loud footsteps coming closer forces me to stop thinking about all the things that brought me here and actually focus on the moment itself.
“Now, you stand here,” Liza says, and I feel a wall of solid muscle press up against my back. “I’m going to get into position and then I’ll get you two to turn around and meet each other, okay?”
“Okay,” we both say, the stranger’s voice a deep, rich baritone that strangely eases my anxiety almost instantly. Paired with my imagination, I’ve now conjured up a man in my mind who is nothing less than a masterpiece of sculpted perfection.
“Are you ready?” Liza’s voice is unmistakably giddy, and I can’t help but feel the same. “Three. Two. One. Blake, I want you to turn around and meet Rosario.”
Inhaling long and loud, I carefully turn on my heels in Rosario’s direction and keep my eyes closed for a few beats too long. When I finally gain the courage to open my eyes, I’m hit with a smile that could light up the darkest night and honey-colored eyes that I know with absolute certainty I’ve stared into a million times before.
But how?
“There you are.” His voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, but the recognition in his tone and his words makes me feel like I’m living in an alternate universe.
“Do I know you?” I ask, almost hoping he can somehow explain the familiarity buzzing between us.
Without an invitation, he slips his large calloused hand in mine, his touch warm and inviting, and then brings it up to his lips. Eyes locked on mine, he presses a soft, tender kiss to my skin before answering, “I don’t know, do you?”
Unsure of what to do next, I release a shaky breath and turn to look at Liza. “Is this okay?”
Her smile matches Rosario’s, and I relax a little bit more. “This is perfect. Just keep talking. Just be, and when I call out a pose, just naturally, if you can, fall into it.”
“Tell me about yourself,” Rosario says, steering my attention back to him.
My eyes drop to his shoes and leisurely travel up the length of his body, taking in every aspect of his appearance. Just as Liza instructed us prior to the session, he’s dressed up. Pressed black pants, a black button down, and a black blazer that fits him like a glove. The whole outfit accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, hinting at the cut body hiding underneath the layers, making it absolutely impossible to question or doubt his masculine perfection.
He’s undeniably gorgeous. A head turner. That one man who’s every woman’s type.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, surprised by the flirty lilt to my voice.
“Anything.” Smiling, he shakes his head emphatically. “Everything.”
We both stare at each other, the connection irrefutable, even as the sound of Liza furiously clicking her camera reminds us we’re not alone.
“Rosario,” Liza calls out. “Place your hands on Blake’s waist. Bring her close to you.”
He’s barely touched me and I’m already stepping toward him, my arms wrapping themselves around his neck like that’s exactly where they belong.
“So, Rosario,” I enunciate, enjoying the way his name sounds out of my mouth. “How’d you get a name like that?”
“It’s my grandfather’s,” he tells me. “Rosario Alessio Ricci, but my friends call me Rio.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are we friends?”
“It’s a good start.”
“Are you Italian?” I ask, continuing my inquisition.
“What gave it away?” He smirks. “The name or my strapping good looks?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to hide my smile. “Even if you were good looking, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Okay, guys,” Liza interrupts. “Rosario, I want you up in her space, like you’re about to tell her a secret, or whisper sweet nothings in her ear.”
In one soft move, he sweeps my hair off my shoulder, and the anticipation of our closeness has my stomach doing somersaults. He lowers his mouth to my ear, and the warmth of his breath causes an eruption of goose bumps along my skin. “You don’t have to tell me I’m good looking,” he whispers. “Your eyes and your body do all the important talking anyway.”
My pulse quickens, and he presses his mouth to my neck.
“Told you,” he says smugly.
“Now turn Blake around in your arms,” Liza advises. “And just continue as you are. I’m loving how comfortable you are with one another.”
We do as Liza asks, and before I know it, I'm completely engulfed by him. He circles his arms around my waist and buries his head in my hair. He’s all muscles and man, and I’m stunned at how easy it is to relax in his hold.
I place my arms on his and tilt my head back to rest on his shoulder.
“You feel good in my arms,” he says, voicing my thoughts.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” It’s supposed to come out as a flirty quip, but an unwarranted hint of disappointment and resignation slips through.
“One girl,” he corrects. “But she broke my heart.”
The raw timbre of his voice seeps into the huge cracks of my own battered heart. Each word said with a sadness and resignation that only one who has experienced such loss could really understand.
Unknowingly, his revelation feels like solidarity.
“Okay, now I’m going to ask you to pose for a few shots,” Liza says. “A bit more staged, a bit more direction from me.”
Rosario clears his throat, and I inwardly curse at the timing of Liza’s interruptio
n. I have no idea what I was going to say, but finding out about his broken heart suddenly makes its way to the top of my priority list.
We go through the motions, with Liza ordering us every which way, but the mood is now different. The sexual tension is still there. Palpable almost. But now it’s not just the lust that’s the driving force between us, but the curiosity to know more. To know it all.
A cell phone rings, and Liza stops taking photos. “Sorry, guys. Normally, I don’t have my phone on me, but my sister is so close to her due date, and I’m on hospital duty.”
Instead of caring about Liza and her phone call, my gaze stays locked on Rosario’s. We’re now situated on a chair, his legs spread wide and I’m sitting on his lap. My legs are crossed, and the material of my floor-length dress has fallen to the sides, exposing the top of my thigh. As if they belong there, his fingers are tracing circles on my skin, and my arms are wrapped around his neck.
“Tell me about the girl,” I say.
“Are you going to tell me about the guy?”
“How do you know there’s a guy?”
Looking up at me, he raises his hand and tucks the loose strands of my hair behind my ear. “There’s only one reason a woman like you is here in my arms and not at home in somebody else’s.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow. “A woman like me?”
“You’re gorgeous, Blake,” he says with such conviction. “I can’t be the only person to tell you that.”
He isn’t, but for some reason, coming out of his mouth, it feels like the first time I’ve actually believed someone.
“And you got that from all of this.” I wave my hand around the room.
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “I got that from all of this.”
He waves his hand up and down my body.