“Bubble’s not going to burst, baby.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m yours.” He glances over at me, but those damn sunglasses are blocking his eyes. I can’t see what he’s thinking.
“I just like having this time to ourselves. I love our girls, baby, but we needed Ray and Becca time.” His lips paint kisses on the back of my hand.
“Well, it’s going to get harder once the twins are here. I’m not going to feel comfortable leaving them for a while.”
“Becca, you are not going to work like you did before. Part-time only. I mean it, baby. Twenty hours max. I don’t even want you to do that much!” he says. I bite back my smile and decide to watch him go on with his rant instead of interjecting. “I have certain expectations, Becs,” he continues, his voice softer. I raise my eyebrow. “I want to come home from work every night to kids finishing up homework or setting the table. My wife in the kitchen, doing last-minute preparations for dinner and smacking my hand away when I start picking at things.”
“Should I wear a frilly apron for you?” I tease him.
“Only with nothing else on, when the kids aren’t home.” He smiles.
“Shall I ask you how you day was, dear?” My smile is full of mirth. He says nothing. I study him some more. His fantasy is so simple, so sweet and innocent. Most women might be appalled, and if I didn’t know Ray like I do, I would probably roll my eyes at him and flash my “sight word.” But I do know him. These ideas do not stem from being a chauvinistic pig, but from a deep appreciation of being taken care of. He’s never made me feel like my place was only in the home. Granted, we haven’t really had your typical conventional relationship, but the foundation has always been there. I love when Ray came to the inn for dinner on Wednesdays after work, when he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me hello. Even when I wasn’t “on,” I loved it. Maybe a part of me was always “on,” at least a little.
“I know it can’t be helped when people call in. But I don’t want to hear, ‘Mom said to order a pizza, she had to work’ a lot.” He pulls into a space at the outlets and turns the car off. “Weekends off. That’s our time,” he states, staring ahead. I think he’s waiting for me to go apeshit on him. It’s taking a lot for me not to laugh.
“Except for crop weekends.” I remain calm.
“Okay. I can live with that,” he says thoughtfully.
I lean over to him and run my index finger down his jawline. “I won’t work the Friday before or the Monday after the crop weekends. Okay, baby?” I speak softly in his ear, and his breathing becomes erratic. “Okay, baby?” I ask again.
“Um ... yes.”
I smile against his skin, my lips following the trail of my finger.
“Jesus, Becca, you’ve gotta stop, baby.” He’s barely audible. I pull away. He takes in a deep breath and shivers.
“C’mon, let’s get you a jacket for tonight.” I unbuckle myself, satisfied by the way I affect him. Ray climbs out and comes around to open my door. I slide out.
“One to two hours a day—that’s it.” He stares down at me, my reflection glaring back at me from the lenses of his aviators. I can’t help my laughter. “Don’t laugh,” he says with a sigh.
“Ray.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m not going to argue with you, sweetie. Two hours a day unless someone calls out. Every other weekend off, every other Monday and Friday off. Home-cooked meals most nights. Weekends away together when I’m comfortable leaving the babies. Besides all that, I promise that you will always be the sun—at—the—center—of—my—universe.” I peck at his lips between the last few words.
“Sorry,” he sighs. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I’m not trying to argue, I just ... ” He trails off as he closes the car door.
“You just don’t want me to get swallowed up by work and forget about our family or push you guys off. I know where it’s coming from. I understand. That’s kind of been my history.” I grab his hand and we head off to the first store. “Things will be different. I promise. Bare feet, baby,” I reiterate.
“I believe you, Becca. I’m feeling selfish. I can’t help it. I finally have all of you. I don’t want to share you with anything or anyone right now.” He pulls my hand around to the small of his back. His arm drapes over my shoulder, pulling me close as we walk. I slip my hand into his back pocket and rest my head below his shoulder.
“Four kids, McNeil ... you’ll have to be a big boy and share me.” I glance up at him.
“Damn kids,” he teases.
We walk into Barneys New York. Alexander approaches us at approximately our fifteenth step into the store.
“Yes, Alexander, please measure my husband for a sport coat,” I say, before he can even welcome us—and before Ray can look at a single price tag.
“Right this way, sir.” He turns on his heels immediately.
I cringe at Alexander’s shiny, swamp-green suit as I watch him walk ahead. The color isn’t the problem for me, though. If there’s one thing I consider more of an eyesore than skinny jeans on men, it’s skinny suit pants on men. They hug his bony legs proudly, and I want to scream Stop the insanity! like that crazy chick ... what’s her name? Ugh!
“Susan Powter!” I do a mental head slap.
“Huh?” Ray shoots me a look.
“Oh, never mind.” I shake my head.
Alexander approaches Ray with measuring tape and stands him in front of a mirror. While he measures, I start fishing around.
“I’d go with a 40 regular,” Alexander states. I grab the tan, velvet Dolce & Gabbana sport coat. It has a single button, front-flap pockets, and peaked lapels. I hide the $1,825.00 price tag and help Ray into it. “This coat goes fabulously with jeans and a plain tee,” Alexander says.
“Hmm ... I agree, although I think you should wear a dress shirt with it tonight,” I say, circling Ray. “What do you think, McNeil?” I ask.
“It’s comfortable, and different from what I already have. What do you think, baby?”
He studies my face in the mirror.
“This makes me want to write in my journal.” I smile mischievously.
“We’ll take it!” Ray says quickly. He takes it off and hands it to me to put back on the hanger.
“Ray, let me get this for you as part of your Christmas present,” I say. He shrugs. “Can you get me a decaf coffee from that shop over there while Alex here rings me up? I’ll meet you outside.” I kiss his cheek.
“Okay, babe. Do you want anything to eat?” I shake my head. Ray heads off.
When it comes to clothes, there are several types of men on this planet. Ray, thankfully, is the kind that dresses affordably well. As far as labels and the price that comes with them, well, that’s completely off his radar. Now, if this jacket were a power saw of some sort, he would know the brand and the price without looking at the tag. If this jacket were a power saw, he wouldn’t flip out at the total like he would for one tan sport coat—hence my sudden need for a cup of coffee. I hand Alexander my AmEx Black Card and ask him to pull the tag off. He smiles. I suspect he’s fielded similar requests.
“Thank you, Mrs. James. Please come again.” He smiles.
“Sure. Thanks for your help,” I say. What I want to say is, Dude, burn the suit and eat a sub! But, alas, I smile and turn on my heel.
I walk up to the glass doors of Barneys and spot Ray outside with my coffee, lid off, blowing on it to cool it down. Shit. I think I just fell more in love with him at this very moment. It’s the little things that keep everything glued together. So few people realize it, or remember how big little things are. Ray glances up quickly and his eyes lock with mine. His beautiful, stormy eyes. His smile hits them and he jerks his head slightly, beckoning for me to come join him.
“They had pumpkin for you, baby.” He puts the lid back on and exchanges it for the bag from Barneys.
“Just for me?” I tease before taking a sip. Perfect. “Mmm ... thank you.” I lean up to kiss him.
“Where next?” H
e grabs my hand. I shrug.
We stroll around for the next two hours, wandering in and out of different stores. Ray gets a new pair of jeans and a shirt for dinner tonight, plus new boots at Kenneth Cole. I splurged on a Coach purse and matching wallet. Well, Ray splurged. Had I known he was going to offer, then proceed to give me The Look when I tried to argue, I never would’ve walked into the store. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when the clerk told him the total was six hundred. Ray’s eyes grew wider than I had ever seen them before. He swallowed hard and handed over his Visa.
“Ray,” I say when we get outside, “I don’t usually spend that kind of money on a purse and wallet.”
“Becs, stop. It’s okay,” he interjects. “I’m getting off easy here! You’ll use the same purse for two years or so. Other women change them out constantly. Even if you bought twelve reasonably priced purses, they would end up costing more than what I just spent.”
I’m speechless.
“Uh ... that’s a good way of looking at it,” I finally say.
“It’s the only way I can look at it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to stomach dropping six bills like that.” His statement makes me wince. “Besides, it’s okay. I have this wicked-rich client now. I can afford it,” he teases, nudging my arm.
“I’m not wicked rich, I’m uncomfortably comfortable,” I say.
“Well, a lot of families in our area will enjoy sharing in your comfort when I do all of that hiring.” He throws our bags into the back of the MDX.
“Oh! Tanya Smith! She was Morgan and Annie’s favorite teacher. Her husband has been out of work for a while. They’re really struggling. I think he’s in computers. I want to give him a job. Grayson said he’d be very valuable to our company.”
“Reggie, babe?” He closes the trunk.
“Oh, I don’t remember his first name.”
“They have three children, right?”
“Yeah, that’s them!” I tap his arm.
“His resume is impressive. He came to me right before our accident, but I didn’t have anything to fit his qualifications. I’ll give him a call this week. If he’s still looking, we could definitely use him.”
“I’m glad. So many people are struggling.”
“I know, babe, it’s awful. Puts some things into perspective, especially for me. Here I was, being a proud prick, instead of thinking about how much you and I alone will be helping our local economy with this build.” He sighs, shaking his head.
“You know what part of the problem is, sweetie?” I cross my arms.
“What?” A slow smile forms at his lips. He’s getting ready for one of my rants.
“We’ve gotten so detached from our neighbors, we can’t seem to truly grasp that sense of community I know most people really want.”
“What do you mean, Becs?” He leans against the SUV.
“Well, you know, we tease each other calling ourselves Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver.” I mirror his action. “But that generation is known and respectfully referred to as the Greatest Generation. When I think of our grandparents, I think of their sense of community. When times got hard, they rolled up their sleeves and did whatever they could to help each other and the country out. Three generations later, we can all still feel the essence of their pride. A lot of things were organized on the town, state, or federal level. The point is, just about everyone who could do his or her part went ahead and did so. They were all basically in the same boat, working together to get to dry land. They leaned on each other and learned how to ‘scratch one another’s backs,’ if you will. Did you know that by the end of World War II, unemployment was virtually nonexistent?” I finally take a breath. “Yes, there are groups who try different things to help, but we need something bigger. I think our generation has been so spoiled—we’re too busy trying to look like we’re still ‘keeping with the Joneses’ to admit we’re struggling and ask for help. Then there’s the other side of that: chronically complaining about our situation and expecting things to be handed to us. Of course, there are the people in the middle, hanging in limbo or just retracting completely. Maybe we can get something started in our town. A back-to-basics plan. Get the people talking and plan as a community. Find out people’s needs versus what they can do to help others. Start rowing the boat together in our community.” I pause for a sip of my coffee.
“You know, baby, I think you’re on to something. Most of the people in our town want to feel that sense of community. We all get involved in local events, but we haven’t fully grasped that old sentiment. A lot of it has to do with people’s attitudes and trust issues. Technology is a beautiful thing, but on the other hand, it’s doing a number on people socially. You know, I’m going to get us in with Mayor Brewster. You and I are pretty well known in town. We may just be the two to get the ball rolling.” He pulls my hips, bringing me to him. “And then we will solve world peace.” He smiles.
“One small New England town at a time,” I laugh.
“This is good for our girls, too. You’re an amazing woman, Becca. You make me so proud in so many ways.” He seals his compliment with a kiss.
I’ll feel prouder of myself when I talk to Rev. Johnson about anonymously making someone’s mortgage payment this month. Christ, I just spent that much on a sport coat! That’s where the uncomfortable part of my comfortable life comes in. Grayson and I used to get into it a lot over my discomfort with our situation. He hated that I couldn’t get over the guilt of being successful and just enjoy it a little. I don’t know, I guess I was always worried about forgetting what it felt like to struggle. Now that I’m older, I don’t think I ever will. It’s too much a part of me and who I’ve become as a person. Ray’s right; this build will help many people enjoy in my comforts. Never mind Ray’s company—I’m going to need a lot more staff. The shops in the new building will be hiring. We’ll create a ton of local jobs between us. Suddenly, I don’t feel so uncomfortable anymore!
“Now, we have a half an hour. We can either head back,” his eyebrows rise, hinting at an idea or two he may have, “or we can spend that time in the Gymboree store you’ve been eyeing for the past ten minutes.”
I bite my lip. I really want to go look at the baby clothes. I don’t want to disappoint him, either, though I haven’t fully recovered from our earlier shenanigans.
“The Gymboree it is.” He smirks, pulling my lip away from my teeth before he collects it for himself. My heart races as he sucks on my lip before he deepens the kiss.
“C’mon, we need to hurry now!” Ray rushes us into our room.
“Sorry!” I say for the millionth time.
“I told you half an hour, babe!” he says again, tossing bags onto the bed and kicking his shoes off. I close the door. “Forget it. We’re here, just get dressed. Our reservation is in fifteen minutes.” He undresses while pulling his clothes out of the bags. I go to my suitcase for my new favorite sweaterdress. Quickly, I change outfits and throw on my knee-high black boots. I stand up and let my hair down on the way to the mirror, and it falls down past my shoulders. Ah ... thank you for cooperating. I grab my makeup bag and apply with haste. A glance in the mirror shows Ray turning around behind me as he slides his arms into his new jacket. He stills, taking in my outfit. I can see something igniting in his eyes from way over here. He looks at his watch, then to me, then back to the watch.
“McNeil, we only have ten minutes! Knock it off!” I apply my lipstick.
“You must know how fond of that dress I am, Becs.” His voice is soft and seductive, matching his facial expression as he prowls closer to me. He reaches up and moves my hair over my shoulder. I close my eyes and focus on controlling my breathing as his lips take advantage of having full access to my neck. I breathe sharply as his hands slide up the outside of my thighs, dragging the hem of the dress with them. “I have a theme song, baby,” he murmurs into my ear before he nips at the skin below my earlobe. My heart leaps from the electric current.
“What is it?” My voice shakes as I
try to fight off the desire building in me.
“‘The Sign’ by Ace of Base.” His voice is full of mirth as he grasps my inner thighs. I turn my head and let my smile hit my eyes.
“Ray.” I gasp as he pushes my panties to the side. A single finger circles around my opening before plunging deep. I rest my forehead against his temple, feeling hypnotized by the rhythm of his one rather intrusive finger.
“Oh, baby, you’re so ready for me,” he says in almost a whisper. Slowly, he pulls out entirely and adjusts my panties. He stares at me in the mirror. No need for blush now! “You look beautiful,” he says before he sucks my taste off his finger. “Mmm ... so good. C’mon, baby.” He grabs my coat and helps me into it. I watch him in the mirror. His brown hair is choppy—at the length I love. His blue-gray eyes are rich. Christ, he is so handsome. There’s strength in his jawline and chin, without it being overpowering. Strong cheekbones. Honestly, he could’ve been a model. He flashes me his big, boyish grin, and I can picture him in a high school letter jacket.
“Were you captain of your high school baseball team?” I ask, matching his smile.
“Yeah, why?” He seems caught off guard by my out-of-the-blue question.
“No reason,” I say. “Random inquiry.” I lace my fingers with his to walk with him out the door.
“Shit, we’re going to be late now,” Ray says as I plug the address into the GPS.
“Only a couple of minutes. It’s fine.” I tap his arm. “We wouldn’t be late at all if you had just stayed focused on the task at hand,” I add.
“I believe we’re late because I was focusing on a beautiful, seductive task that required my hands.” He pulls my hand to his lips as he turns onto Yount Street.
“I wasn’t doing anything seductive.” I give him a strange look.
“Baby,” he says, glancing over, “the moment you’re in my view, I’m seduced.” He plants a kiss on every one of my knuckles. Butterflies burst out of their cocoons in my belly. I sit, speechlessly bathing in his words. Ray takes a left on Humbold Street, then a right onto Washington, and within seconds, we’re parking. “Ready?” His forefinger caresses beneath my chin. My eyes find his and I’m overcome with the intensity of my love for him. I never thought I would ever feel this way about another man. “Baby?” Ray touches my face. “What’s the matter?” He wipes the tears that escape the corners of my eyes.
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 22
