This Is Forever

by Madison, Natasha

  Then he opened the front door, and the sweeping staircase made me fall in love. I didn’t even know what to say. There was no way that I could help pay for this house. When he showed us the backyard, I cried. He held me in his arms while Dylan jumped into the pool fully dressed. I’m not even going to go into how much everything in the house cost. He sent me with Zara and Zoe and his credit card, and when I saw the price of the furniture, I felt sick and went back home with no furniture. But of course Zara and Zoe told him everything that I did like, and just like that, it was delivered without me even having a say.

  I walk down the long-carpeted hallway to Dylan’s room and peek my head in. He sleeps like a starfish in his king-size bed. His room is decked out in New York colors. I walk in and turn off the television and then go back downstairs to the kitchen. I make sure all the doors are locked and set the alarm. Walking back upstairs, I pass all the framed pictures on the wall. A picture of the three of us in the middle and then small pictures all around from everyone in the family. Turning off the lights I slide into our custom-made king-size bed, then put my phone on the bedside table next to a picture of us and then Dylan’s school picture.

  I close my eyes and think about how far Dylan’s come. He’s in a private school now, he’s excelling at hockey to the level that his coaches are over the moon. Plus, he’s started to grow like a weed, and he’s going to be able to go up two levels, which people are saying is unheard of. He laughs all the time and eats more food than he’s ever eaten. He’s also just blended into the Stone family as if he was born a Stone. It takes me a couple of minutes to fall asleep.

  “Sweetheart.” I hear him whisper, and at first, I think I’m dreaming, but then he buries his face in my neck.

  “You’re home,” I say, opening my eyes and seeing him. My hand comes out to touch his face. “I missed you.”

  He smiles. “I missed you more.” He pulls me to him, and my leg hitches over his hip like it always does. His hand roams up my back, his fingertips giving me goose bumps, and he rips the shirt over my head and throws it over my head to the floor. “You were wearing my shirt.”

  “Yeah,” I say of the tossed shirt. I always wear his shirts when he’s away so I can smell him. My hands reach up to cup my tits, and he bends to take a nipple into his mouth.

  “Sensitive,” I hiss, and he flips me over on my back, and my legs open for him. I grip his cock in my hand, and I move my panties to the side. He slides in, and my back arches up. “Missed you.” Wrapping my legs around his waist, I add, “So much.”

  He holds himself up on his arms, our lips lingering over each other. “Love you,” he whispers, and my hand goes between us, and I play with my clit while he fucks me slowly, his tongue coming out to lick my lips. My tongue coming out to wrap with his. “Need you there.”

  “I’m there,” I say. With him, I’m always there. “Right there.” I lean up and kiss the necklace around his neck that I gave him, and he never takes it off. He pounds into me harder now, and I’m coming apart and tightening my legs around his waist. “Justin,” I say while he kisses me and then buries his face into my neck. My fingers are going through his hair, and I play with the long ends. “Don’t move,” I say, enjoying him on me.

  “I’m going to crush you,” he says, and I moan when he gets off me and goes into the bathroom. He comes back with a rag like he always does. He walks back to the bathroom and tosses the rag and comes back and wraps his arms around me.

  I turn to him, and I’m just so happy he’s home. “Hmm,” I say, cuddling into him and leaning up to kiss under his chin. “Hi.”

  He brings me closer. “Hi,” he says softly. “Sweetheart.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” I ask.

  “We were supposed to come home tomorrow,” he starts and yawns. “But after the game, everyone just wanted to get home.”

  “Night,” I say, my eyes closing now. “Love you.”

  “Forever,” he says softly, and then the sound of his snores fills the room.

  “And ever,” I whisper to him and fall asleep in his arms.

  Epilogue Two

  Justin

  Four months later

  “Give me a kiss.” I walk to Caroline as she zips up the cooler for us to take on the boat. This is our first day on official vacation. My summer camp just wrapped up, and I surprised them with a getaway up north, joining the rest of the family.

  “Be safe,” she says and kisses me softly. “And can you text me.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Have fun with my sisters.”

  “You know how much I love shopping,” she says. “Do you think it’s bad if I say I have a headache?”

  “You know my sisters,” I say. After moving to New York, they went above and beyond to make her feel at home. Including inviting her to every single girls’ night they had until she slowly started feeling comfortable about it. If they wanted to go out and eat, she was always game, but shopping, not so much. Even though she had her own money now, and I gave her my credit card, she never ever bought anything. Enter Zara, who would just send her boxes of clothes every single month.

  “Fine,” she hisses. “I’ll go, and I might even buy something this time.”

  I put my hands up. “Even if you don’t, I’m sure someone will get you something.”

  “Your sister sent me a purse the other week,” she says. “It was two thousand dollars.”

  “I mean, it’s not that bad,” I say, trying not to laugh.

  “An evening purse, Justin,” she shrieks. “I don’t even go out.”

  “I take you out plenty,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “Dylan!” I yell back for him, and he comes down the stairs, and I swear he grew overnight.

  “Coming,” he says, grabbing his baseball hat and putting it on. “Are we fishing today?”

  “That’s the plan,” I say. “Give Mom a kiss.”

  He walks over to her and kisses her on the cheek and then walks out of the house. “What time will you be back?”

  “Not late,” I say, and then I kiss her. “Love you.”

  “Love you more,” she says. I walk out of the house and down the steps to the boat where Dylan is already getting in. I hand him the cooler and jump in with him. Starting it up, I pull out and make my way over to the spot where we always fish.

  “Where is everyone?” he asks from beside me.

  “Maybe running late,” I say and look over at him. “Gives us extra time to talk.” My palms are suddenly sweaty. “You doing okay?” Jesus, I sound like an idiot.

  “Yeah,” he says, and I stop the boat in the middle of the lake and look over at him.

  “You know that I love you, right?” I start at that part.

  “Yeah,” he says and then smiles. “I love you, too.”

  “And you know how much I love your mom, right?” I say, and he groans.

  “I think you love her way too much. You really need to stop kissing all the time.”

  I laugh now. “Never going to happen, buddy.” I look down and then up and reach into my shorts, taking out the ring box that I have had for the past six months.

  “It’s okay. Michael says that Max and Allison are always kissing also.” He shrugs, and I think about how Michael and he are best friends on and off the ice, and I know next year is going to be a challenge for him since he’s moving up in level and Michael still has another year.

  “Well, I love her so much that I want to make her mine,” I tell him. “Forever.” I open the box and show him the ring, and he gasps.

  “That’s huge,” he says, looking at it. “She’s going to hate it.”

  I laugh, knowing she will freak out, but hoping she’ll get over it and cherish it. “I want her to have my name and for the world to know that she belongs to me.” He looks at me. “I want you both to belong to me.” He looks at me. “I know you have a dad.”

  “Yeah,” he says, and then whispers, “you.” It’s my time now to blink away the tears. He’s always sai
d he loves me, always hugs me, but never once did I push the idea of me being his dad on him. He had a dad, a shitty fucking excuse for a dad, but a dad nonetheless. “You are my dad.”

  “Dylan,” I say now, not sure what else to say, and he doesn’t give me the option.

  “Andrew was never a father to me. He never brought me to practice, he never did homework with me, he never made sure I was okay, he never held my hand, he never put me to bed, or punished me because I played video games instead of reading. He only hugged me because he pretended that he liked me, and most of all, he never ever told me he loved me.”

  “Everyone shows their love differently,” I try to defend him, and the words taste vile in my mouth even to me.

  “Yeah, well, he has a shitty way of showing he loves anything except himself and his drugs.” My head snaps up, and I look at him. “I thought that is what he did, and then I looked it up online.”

  “Dylan,” I say to him.

  “I know that you want Mom to have your name”—he looks down and then up and he has to blink away tears—“but can I have the name, too? I know that I have Mom’s name now …” He doesn’t finish his sentence. I just lean over to him and grab him, yanking him to me.

  “I don’t care what the fuck your last name is,” I say to him, my arms around him and his arms around me. My hand goes to his head, and I take off his cap and kiss his head. Like I do every single day that we’ve been together. Like I’ll be doing for the rest of his life. “You’re mine.”

  “Thanks,” he says, and then he says softly. “I won’t tell Mom you said the F word if you let me call you Dad,” he says, and my eyes close, the tears now coming out. “And if it’s okay, do you think Cooper will be okay if I called him Grandpa? And Parker, can I call her Grandma?”

  “I’m going to say that he’ll say yes, but you can ask him if you want,” I say, and I hear a boat approaching with Matthew and Dad in it.

  “What do we have here?” my father asks when he parks his boat next to ours. “What happened?” He whips off his glasses and looks at both of us.

  “Nothing,” I say while he ties his boat to ours. He then jumps into our boat with Matthew behind him.

  “Why the tears?” he says to Dylan, and he turns to look at my father.

  “Mom and me are going to be Stones,” he says. Matthew looks up to the sky, and if I didn’t know better, I would think he is crying.

  “Is that so?” my father says, beaming.

  “Yeah, and Justin is going to be my dad,” he says, and I swear it just makes my heart feel fuller, bigger, complete.

  “Well, son,” my father says to me, “you’ve got a great family there.”

  “So since he’s my dad, that kind of makes you my grandpa,” Dylan says and then looks down. “Is it okay? If you don’t want me to call you that, I won’t.”

  My father gets down in front of him and holds his hands in his. “It would be my honor for you to call me your grandpa,” he says, smiling. “We are so proud of you in so many ways. And family doesn’t mean having the same blood,” he says. “Matthew and Allison are mine, and I will fight anyone who says they aren’t. Family means protecting them, and most importantly, it means loving them with everything that you are.” He nods his head at him. “My grandson,” he says, grabbing him by the shoulder and bringing him to his chest.

  “Wait a second,” Matthew says from behind. “If you call him Grandpa and that one Dad.” He points at me. “I want to be called uncle number one Matthew.”

  “You aren’t calling him that,” I say to Dylan, and the three of us laugh at Matthew. The rest of the crew gets here, and the day slides by with the kids swimming in the lake, then fishing, and when it’s almost sunset, we make our way back home.

  Getting Dylan off the boat is like pulling teeth. After all the sun and excitement and the swimming, he’s already cranky and wants to go to bed. “What about dinner?” I ask, and he shakes his head as we walk up the steps to the house. I walk in, and the cold air hits me right away.

  “Hey,” Caroline says, getting off the couch and coming to us. Her long, tanned legs in the short white shorts that she is wearing with her blue tank top. She spots Dylan first, who just waves at her. “Oh, boy.”

  “He’s tired,” I say, dumping the cooler on the counter and emptying it, and then setting it outside to let it dry. When I come back into the house, Caroline is in the kitchen, putting away the things. I walk to her and wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her neck. “Did you have fun?”

  “As much fun as one can have shopping for five hours,” she says, and I laugh. “Go take a shower. You smell.”

  “Of what?” I ask, and she scrunches up her nose.

  “Fish, water, and sunscreen.” She shakes her head. “Not a great trio.”

  “Fine,” I say, walking to our bedroom and taking a shower. When I come back out, the house is quiet, and I look for Caroline everywhere. I even check in Dylan’s room, and he’s on his back in his boxers passed out. I pick up his wet towel by the bed and toss it in the laundry basket before I go outside and find her in the hammock, watching the stars. The soft tea lights hanging make it glow around her. “Hey,” I say when I get to her side, and she looks at me.

  “Hey.” She moves over, and I get in with her. She cuddles with me, her leg hitching over mine and her arm going around my stomach. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  “It is,” I say, kissing the top of her head.

  “I got a call today,” she says five minutes later, “from Father Rolly.” Her voice trails off. “Andrew died in an abandoned house. Someone called the ambulance, but he was dead for three days before someone was coherent enough to realize.” She looks at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and she shakes her head.

  “Me, too,” she says, “but he did it to himself.” It’s taken a lot for her to get over the fact that it was always his choice to do what he did.

  We lie quietly together as the sun fades and the stars shine bright and then finally get up and walk inside, holding hands. My heart is heavy with the fact that Dylan’s dad is gone, and this time for good. “I’ll lock up. Go take a shower,” I say, and she just walks ahead of me. I make sure everything is closed and check in on Dylan again, who is in the same position as he was before. I pull the door partially closed when I leave the room and walk to our room. The sound of the shower running tells me where she is as I grab the ring box and sit on the bed.

  I look at the ring and wonder if there will ever be a good time to give it to her. I imagine her standing in front of me wearing a white dress and smiling. I’m so lost in my daydream that I don’t hear the shower turn off. I only look up when she opens the bathroom door and stands there in front of me wearing one of my shirts with her hair piled on top of her head.

  “What?” she says, and she looks from the box in my hand and then up.

  I guess there is no time like the present. “I had so many different ideas about how to do this,” I say, and she stands there in front of me, not moving. “The whole romantic moment, candles, roses, music, champagne.” I shake my head. “You name it, the idea came to my head.” Her lower lip trembles. “The rule is that you have to ask the father's permission to marry their daughter.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “But I had someone more important to ask permission of, and that was Dylan.”

  “Justin,” she says with a tear streaming down her face.

  “I told him I wanted to marry you. That I wanted to make you mine forever.” I smile. “That I want everyone in the whole world to know that you’re mine. I mean, officially mine.” She steps forward to come to me, but I hold up my hand. “I told him I wanted you to have my name, and he asked me if he can have my name also, and just like that, it made this so much more than just us getting married or you becoming my wife. It means becoming not just your husband but becoming his father. He wants to call me dad.”

  “I know,” she says. “He’s been dying to ask you for the past four months.”
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  “I said yes,” I say. “I said yes to being his father, and I really hope,” I say now, getting down on one knee in front of her, “that you’ll say yes and marry me. Become my wife.”

  “This is really awkward,” she starts, “but I have a counter.”

  “Of course, you do,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I’ll only become your wife if …” I wait for it. “If you give me a baby.”

  She smiles. “I want to have another baby.”

  “Only one?” I ask.

  “We can start with one,” she says. “I can be maybe persuaded to go up.”

  “Yes,” I say, and then I open the box with the ring, and she sobs. “Caroline, will you be my wife?” She nods her head, her hands on her mouth, and tears streaming down her face. I take the ring out of the box, and she reaches her left hand out, and it’s shaking like a leaf. I slide it on her finger and see the five-carat square diamond sitting on it. “This is forever.”

  “Forever,” she whispers, leaning down and holding my face in her hands. “And ever.” She kisses me.

  * * *

  Nine years later

  “Good luck tonight,” I tell Dylan as he slips on his suit jacket. He grew to be a full six feet, five inches, and he works out even harder, so not only is he tall, but he’s also a rock. He was also drafted first overall, making him the fourth Stone to be drafted first.

  “It will be what it will be.” He smirks at me as we walk out of the hotel room, and he makes his way to the rink. He gives me a hug before he walks to the back and gets ready while I make my way to the box where my family will be joining me. “Hey,” I say to Matthew who just sits there on the phone. I sit next to him, watching the ice, getting ready for the big game.

  “How’s your boy?” Matthew asks from beside me.

  “Calm,” I say. “Nothing like his father.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Matthew says, and I just look ahead. Slowly, the box fills with all the kids and the wives, and I look over when I hear my name being called. “Dad.” My eight-year-old son, Christopher, calls my name, and he walks in wearing Dylan’s jersey. He looks exactly like me.