Nothing But Love: A Different Kind of Love Novella

by Liz Durano

  I chuckle. “Gabe-approved then?”

  “Of course, man. Too bad I got kicked out too soon though,” he says, shaking his head. “I was just about to taste the flan.”

  An hour later, Sawyer and Alma arrive to join us and this time, all the kids rush to her—Tyler, Drea, and the unofficial Villier kids, Anipea and DJ. Between our families, it goes both ways. Ten minutes after that, Jordan, Addison, Campbell, and Caitlin arrive and lunch begins.

  It’s a noisy and busy affair. Dishes being passed around drinks being poured, it’s like a normal day at the Drexel household, only this time we have guests present. To my left is Harlow and to my right is Gabe. Next to him is Todd. Across from us, Sarah and Benny have their newborn in a portable caught right behind them while Dyami sits beside Benny. Dad sits at the head of the table and to his right, is Nana.

  “Hey man,” Gabe says, his brow furrowing as he looks at my plate, “what’s up with all the vegetables on your plate? I thought adovada was your favorite.”

  I keep my voice low. “I heard that men on a plant-based diet have harder hard-ons, and that they last longer. Is that true?”

  Gabe thinks for a few moments. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it and there’s a movie that mentions the study.”

  “So it’s true then? Vegetarians have harder erections that can last as long as an hour?”

  Gabe frowns. “I guess so. I never really took it seriously, but I guess it makes sense.?”

  “What makes sense?” Todd asks, taking a bite out of a piece of steak.

  “That guys in a plant-based diet have harder erections than those who eat meat,” says Gabe as Todd stops chewing. “It has to do with blood flow. Erections, I mean.”

  “What has to do with blood flow?” Benny asks.

  Gabe looks at me and then at Todd. He looks unsure, especially since he has to answer Benny from across the table. He mouths the word instead of saying it.

  Benny frowns. “I can’t hear you, man.”

  “I think he’s saying erections,” Dyami says and the whole table turns quiet.

  “No, he said elections,” Sarah says.

  “No, Mom, the letters l and r have different tongue movements,” Dyami says. “I clearly saw him say e-rec-tions.”

  “I don’t know which is worse. Talking about elections or erections over lunch.” Sawyer grins, looking at the three of us who can’t quite hide our guilty and embarrassed expressions. “So which is it?”

  Harlow covers her mouth, giggling, as she turns to me. “Were you trying to get a second opinion?”

  “I was trying to get a guy’s opinion,” I reply. “A guy who just happens to be a doctor.” I take a long sip of my beer. Soon, I will need another one.

  “So what about them? Is it something we need to know, you know, as guys?” Benny asks as next to him, Sarah shoots me a look as if to say, now you’re in trouble while everyone else either pretends they didn’t hear it or don’t want to get involved.

  I clear my throat. “It’s just something Harlow told me on the way here,” I say as everyone turns their attention to Harlow.

  “Excuse me,” Alma says, getting up from the table. “I’m going to take the kids to the playroom for their biscochitos. Don’t worry about me.”

  Sawyer gets up from his chair, looking not so sure what to do. “Do you need me to go with you, babe?”

  “Oh no, love, I got this. Besides, from the looks of those three over there,” she cocks her head toward Gabe, Todd, and me, “it just might be important information.” Before Sawyer can say anything, Alma takes Drea by the hand and, holding up the tray of sugar cookies with the other, she leads the rest of the kids into the playroom.

  “All right, so what’s this about erections, Dax?” Daniel says as everyone turns to look at me.

  “It’s my fault,” Harlow says before I can reply. “I was telling Dax about this movie I saw about being on a plant-based diet. They claimed that collegiate kids they tested had… um, harder–”

  “Hard-ons?” Addison pipes in matter-of-factly, as if sensing the need to find a simpler word to describe what we’re all apparently dying to talk about but hate to admit.

  “Yes,” Harlow says with a straight face. “Their erections were harder and lasted longer on days they ate plant-based meals compared to the days when they ate meat. And it’s not just that, but the size was bigger and lasted longer, too. Like up to an hour.”

  “But it’s just a small sampling, I’m sure,” Benny says, his expression dubious. “There are other factors as to why a man can’t have a harder erection, or lasts longer.”

  “Diabetes,” Sarah says.

  “Hypertension,” says Gabe, nodding.

  “Or they could never get as hard or last as long as other men,” Benny says as Dyami’s cheeks turn red.

  “You guys are weird,” he mutters. “Can we just eat now?”

  “A change in the subject sounds good just about now,” says Sawyer.

  “Si,” says Nana, nodding.

  “One more day of steak can’t be bad.” Todd slices his steak and spears it with his fork. “Because nothing in this world is going to come between me and Nana’s steak.”

  “You said it, man,” Gabe says, shooting me an accusing look for starting it all.

  “A toast,” says Daniel, raising his glass. “To Valentine’s Day. To Single Awareness Day. To family and friends present here today.”

  “Salud!” “Cheers!”

  “And however we end our day today,” adds Daniel, grinning, “may none of us think back to this conversation. Ever.”

  Ah-men.

  8

  Harlow

  “Close your eyes, Mommy! Close your eyes!”

  “But what if I trip?” I ask in mock concern as we make our way toward the front door behind Dax who’s pulling my luggage. “Do you want Mommy to trip?”

  “We’ll guide you,” DJ says as Dax unlocks the door and pushes it open. “You can hold my hand.”

  “No, Mommy can hold my hand!” exclaims Anipea indignantly.

  “Why don’t I hold both your hands?” I say as they grip my hands, leading me through the front door and into the Pearl. As Dax closes the door behind him and locks it, I take a deep breath. What else is better than being home with family? At this moment, nothing comes to mind because there is nothing else better than this.

  We’d ended up staying two more hours after Addison left with Jordan, Campbell and Caitlin for Taos Ski Valley. There was no point in rushing, anyway. The kids were all ready for their nap and so we set them down on the mats in the playroom and hung out in the living room, having coffee and flan while talking about everything—except erections.

  Another snack as soon as the kids woke up and here we are. Home.

  “Close your eyes, mi amor,” Dax says, his voice bringing me back to the present.

  “Do I have to?”

  He grins. “You know you do.”

  “Close your eyes, Mommy,” Anipea and DJ say. “Please?”

  They know I hate surprises but I also know how much they love springing them. So I close my eyes and let the twins guide me through the Pearl. I already know the place by heart, anyway. I can go through it with my eyes closed—barring stepping on errant Lego pieces that DJ loves to leave around or toy brushes that fall from Anipea’s many toy makeup kits.

  They must have decorated the place for Valentine’s Day. I’m expecting to see paper hearts and little cupids with their little bows and arrows everywhere. In my mind, I can see the twins telling their dad where to put this piece or that. I can’t help but smile, eager to see what they have come up with. I’m just amazed that none of the twins mentioned anything during lunch. It means they’re getting good at spring surprises and I need to be vigilant next year.

  “Stop, Mommy,” they say. “Open your eyes.”

  “Open your eyes, mi amor,” says Dax softly, his voice so close to my ear it sends tingling up and down my spine.

  I open my eyes and see tha
t they’ve decorated the place for Valentines, just as I thought. Strips of red crêpe paper interspersed with white crisscross the living room. Valentine ornaments hang from the macadamia nut tree, glittering in the remaining sunlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows and sunroof. Cupid cutouts decorate the walls and on the coffee table is a large bouquet of roses.

  I turn to Dax who smiles.

  “Thank you,” I say as he kisses me softly on the lips.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  The twins are so excited that they are running around us, asking me how I like it. DJ tells me he stuck Cupid everywhere and Anipea points out which ornaments her daddy helped her hang on the tree branches.

  “It’s amazing, my sweets,” I exclaim as I lift Anipea in my arms and give her a kiss. “Thank you. And happy Valentine’s Day.”

  I set her down and do the same to DJ. “Thank you, too, DJ. Happy Valentine’s.”

  “Daddy made you something, too,” he says, pointing to the living room. “He put it over there.”

  “More flowers?” I ask and he shakes his head.

  That’s when I see the table and I pause. It’s not the same one we’ve always had. This one’s new.

  “Let me have him,” Dax says as DJ moves into his arms and I walk toward the dining room, my heart pounding.

  Two days after I met Dax, Nana had invited me over for dinner at the house. It was the first time I met everybody, the first time I saw beyond the impulsive and cocky man I’d met a day earlier telling me there was a change to the lease agreement, the first and only day I gave him the finger.

  At that dinner, I first saw one of Dax’s signature pieces, a live-edge table built without nails or screws, only joints keeping them together. No hard and sharp corners. And where there was a cavity in the wood it looked like a riverbed complete with little rocks and on the sides, moss painted in layers so they looked real from every angle. I remember thinking then how gorgeous it was, too beautiful to hide in a private home. It belonged in a showroom.

  And sure enough, two years ago, Nana asked Dax to display it in his Fifth Avenue showroom. That way, she wouldn’t worry too much if the great grandkids drew on it with their markers and crayons or bang it up with their plastic bowls and cups. Dax hadn’t wanted to at first but after a while he agreed and now it sits in the showroom, a signature Drexel piece that has gotten him many referrals since.

  The table before me will never be in any showroom. I’ll make sure of it because it’s mine. No, ours.

  I walk around it, tracing my fingers along its smoothened edges, admiring the craftsmanship that went into it. This time, Dax didn’t hold back. Embedded in the resin that fills the deep cavity are a few pieces that I recognize. Seashells I picked up during our vacations seem to settle at the bottom and above them, painted in layers for a 3d effect, a small school of clown fish with their orange bodies and three white bands outlined in black. They all look so real I can almost imagine looking at them through my diving mask.

  “Look, Mommy! It’s Nemo!” says Anipea.

  “Five Nemos!” exclaims DJ, pointing to each one.

  “They picked the clown fish,” Dax says. “Otherwise, I’d have just kept the seashells.”

  “Thank you, Dax,” I whisper as I wrap my arms around him and kiss him lightly on the mouth just as the twins tug at my blouse.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy!” The twins announce as I get down on one knee to hug them.

  “Thank you, my sweets. You all have made Mommy so happy.” As I straighten up, I stifle a yawn. Oh great. My body’s still running two hours ahead.

  “Why don’t I get them bathed and in their PJs while you unwind?” Dax says.

  “Good idea, but I’m going to make them dinner while you get them in the tub. And bed,” I say, chuckling. “And then we can unwind.”

  Dax grins. “That’s an even better idea.”

  Two hours later, with the twins finally asleep, Dax and I are finally ready to unwind. Outside the windows, snow blankets the ground and the sky is aglow with a million stars. He pours me a glass of wine and we settle on the couch facing the window.

  As he pulls me to him, we don’t have to say anything as we sip our wine. I lean my head on his shoulder and sigh, taking in everything. The view of the stars and the moon, the feel of my man next to me, and the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace. There’s no place I’d rather be.

  “By the way, something arrived at the office for you,” Dax says, setting the wine on the coffee table and disappearing into my home office. When he returns, he’s carrying a large flat box which he leans on the loveseat.

  “Want to open it?” Dax asks as he pulls out his utility knife from his pocket. “It’s heavy.”

  “Could you open it for me?”

  “Of course,” he replies. “What is it?”

  I smile. “Your valentine’s present. I would have wrapped it, but I have a good excuse. I was out of town.”

  I watch him cut the packing tape and flip open the side panels. With two hands, he lifts the frame and rests it on the loveseat.

  “Wow.” Dax exhales as he reads the inscription. “‘Under this sky, we became one.’”

  Beneath it are the lines depicting the location and date of our wedding right here at the Pearl when the twins were five weeks old.

  “It’s nothing like the table you and the kids–”

  “Shh. It’s perfect, Harlow. And I love it.” Dax pulls me to my feet and kisses me on the lips. “Where would you like to hang it?”

  I look around us, at the home Dax has made for us, from the adobe walls with hints of mica that shimmer in the sunlight, the round glass bottles taped together and then arranged in a sun’s spiral within the outer wall to filter the sun’s rays to the indoor garden overflowing with gorgeous plants and vegetables where a banana tree is ready to be harvested, its fruit propped up with a two-by-four to support its weight.

  I point to the north wall already covered with a collage of framed photos of family and friends yet still having room for one big piece. “What about over there?”

  “There it will be then,” Dax says before turning his attention back to me, his eyes studying my face. I close my eyes when I feel his thumb tracing my lip, his fingers soft along my jaw.

  A long time ago, I used to cringe at the thought of a man studying me. What were they seeing? What were they thinking? I’d be so lost in my own questions, my own insecurities to let things be, to let them see what they see and draw whatever conclusions they draw.

  Dax sees what he sees and I know it’s not the wrinkles that have formed at the corners of my mouth or between my eyebrows because I forget to stop frowning whenever I focus on something. He sees me, the woman who took a long time to get comfortable under her own skin only because it was the only thing she ever knew, that she wasn’t good enough or pretty enough and that no matter what she did, she’d never be enough. Not for her. Not then.

  “You’re so beautiful, Harlow,” Dax murmurs as his fingers push a stray lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You’re smart and you’re kind. And every day I know I’m the luckiest man in the world because I have you.”

  “That’s funny,” I say as Dax frowns. “Because every day I know I’m the luckiest woman in the world because I have you.”

  “What a coincidence then,” he murmurs, his lips curling in a smile. “What should we do about that?”

  I shrug. “I hear people do this thing called kiss.”

  “We already did that,” he says. “What else do they do?”

  I bite my lower lip. “They, um, have sex.”

  “Do you think right now is a good time?”

  I think for a few moments. “Well, the twins are asleep and it is getting late. And I’m pretty buzzed from my wine…so yeah, I think now is the good time. The place though…”

  “What about the place?”

  I cock my head toward the bedroom. “I hear it’s best performed on a
soft surface. Like a bed. With pillows.”

  Dax thinks for a few moments and nods. “You know what? I heard the same thing, too.”

  Suddenly he hooks his arm under my legs and carries me. I laugh before he shushes me and I bury my face in his neck, giggling as he carries me into the bedroom. He kicks the door shut and stands in front of the bed, tenderly laying me down and hovering over me.

  My giggles stop as I look up at him, his blue eyes bluer than I remember as he gazes at me, his features just as youthful as when I first met him. The cocky young man who broke through all my defenses and stole my heart and my soul.

  I run my fingers along his trimmed beard. I trace his lower lip with my thumb, my eyes following wherever my thumb goes, as if staking a claim of what’s mine. What’s always been mine. His heart. His soul.

  “I love you, Dax.”

  He groans, lowering his head toward mine. As our mouths meet, I wrap my arms behind his neck, letting go of the world around us. There’s no more time for talking as we replace our words with our mouths and tongues, our hands and our bodies. His tongue feels like silk against mine, his hands possessively roaming down my body, squeezing my breasts and my ass, undoing buttons and tugging every bit of clothing off me. Or is it me pulling his shirt over his shoulders and pushing his jeans and his boxer shorts down his strong legs?

  Does it matter?

  Do those things ever matter?

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Harlow,” he breathes as he his lips meld into mine, all my questions forgotten. My hands go to his thick hair, tugging until he moans, his kiss deepening as his hand slips between my legs. He slips a finger and then another, groaning at my wetness.

  Dax pulls away from my mouth, his kisses moving lower, down my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking hard before moving to the other.

  “Just relax, Harlow,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse as he moves lower, his tongue snaking a wet trail down my belly…and lower still. He spreads my legs wide, his breath warm against the inside of my thigh just before he plants a soft kiss on my pussy. A precursor. A taste of things to come. A tease.