[2017] We Said Forever

by Marie James

  “Something smells wonderful,” Fallyn says as she steps inside just over an hour later. She hands me her coat and purse so I can hang them in the closet and watches Phoenix run past both of us to his room down the short hallway.

  “I guess I don’t even warrant a hello,” I say as my son disappears into the room he doesn’t get to play in very often.

  “Welcome to my world,” she mutters. A glint fills her eyes as she steps closer to me. “I almost forgot.”

  Leaning in, she kisses me, gripping my head the same way I do when she gives me a chance. “We kiss before we speak.”

  “Mmmm,” I hum against her mouth before pulling away.

  She’s been more receptive to my advances over the last month, but never gives the final go ahead to take it further.

  “What’s this?” She looks over her shoulder at me after noticing the meal and flickering candles on the table.

  Nervousness clogs my throat and I have to swallow several times before it’s clear enough for me to speak.

  “It’s our anniversary,” I manage to whisper.

  Happiness fills her eyes, causing them to crinkle at the corners. “I know. I had a similar spread at my house when you called.”

  “Really? I didn’t think you’d remember.” Overcome with emotion, I grin at her as she nods. “Seems great minds think alike.”

  In silence, we spend the next few moments just looking at each other. Electricity flickers around us, heating my blood. Her lips part and I know we’re only seconds away from becoming explosive.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” she says, ending the silence. “But let’s get that rascal fed and down for the evening first.”

  I follow her down the hall as she goes to retrieve our son, my body not allowing any physical distance from hers.

  “He acts like he’s never seen these toys before in his life,” I say over her shoulder as we watch Phoenix place the toy car at the top of the plastic track. He’s enthralled as it loops and curves until it hits the bottom.

  “He should spend more time with them. He doesn’t get the chance very often.” She turns her eyes to mine. “We should remedy that.”

  “Hey, buddy, let’s go eat,” I say, eager to get the meal over with. I also have some things I want to say tonight.

  With annoyed reluctance, Phoenix stands from beside the car track and heads out of the room ahead of us. Fallyn has expressed concern, more than once, that he minds me better than he does her, and I’ve had conversations with him on several occasions, but there’s only so much a three-year-old understands.

  Dinner seems to take forever with the anticipation of what’s to come after hanging heavy in the air. Fallyn avoids my gaze, which would normally make me nervous, but I’m reminded of her initiation of the kiss when she arrived. It settles me enough to make it through the meal and required bath time after Phoenix ends up wearing more of the spaghetti than he got into his little mouth.

  “How did you get it behind your ear, son?” He just giggles and continues to play with the rubber duck painted like a football player. Even though basketball seems to hold his interest the most, I haven’t given up on the idea that one day he’ll want to play football.

  Fallyn gives me the opportunity to read his bedtime story and tuck him into the toddler bed in his room. Our time together is so limited, I feel like this is what our relationship consists of: a few hours of interacting and bedtime. I don’t complain because I’m grateful for every second I get with him, but it doesn’t keep me from wanting more. It’s one of the things I want to talk to her about.

  I kiss him on the forehead, letting my lips linger a few beats longer than usual, then go to find his mother in the living room.

  She’s kicked her shoes off and has her feet tucked under her, waiting for me to join her.

  “What’s that serious look for?” she asks as I step into the room. “Did he tell you I put him in timeout for throwing a temper tantrum earlier?”

  I cock an eyebrow at her, knowing he normally doesn’t act that way.

  “Yep,” she says with a sigh. “I think he skipped the terrible twos and held it all for the terrorist threes.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I say, sliding to sit on the coffee table rather than beside her on the couch.

  Her lips twitch, just like they always do when I tell her that. “You know he has the attention span of an ant, right?”

  “I’ll get through to him, man to man,” I assure her. My mood sobers. “It’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “I thought I was the one who wanted to talk.” Her smile lights up the room, but I refuse to be distracted by it.

  “You first,” I urge.

  She shakes her head. “You can.”

  I nod even though I can’t help but wonder if my side of the conversation is going to somehow change what she needs to say. “I want—no, I need to spend more time with him. I was thinking, if you were okay with it, I could stay the night at your place a few nights a week in the guest bedroom. I can help him get ready for daycare in the mornings. Take some of the responsibility off you.”

  She shakes her head, and my gut clenches. “That’s not going to work for me.”

  “Fallyn,” I groan, but she stops me with the press of her fingers against my lips.

  “A few nights a week isn’t going to work. I was thinking more like every night.” I grin around her fingers. “And the bed in the guest bedroom isn’t as good as the one I have, so I’d prefer if we slept in my bed.”

  “We?” My heart pounds against my ribcage. She nods, a sweet smile on her lips. “As in you and me in the same bed every single night?”

  My arms are around her and lips pressing against hers before she can finish her nod. “You have no idea how happy this makes me!”

  “I think I can guess,” she whispers against my lips. “Your excitement is pressing against my stomach.”

  “Sorry,” I laugh and pull back a few inches. “So together together?”

  Unrestrained tears roll down my cheeks when she confirms with another press of her lips against mine.

  “I had this whole meal planned at the house. I got the idea on New Year’s Eve.”

  I inch away from her. “Hold on. You made this decision over a month ago?”

  Her face falls. “I wanted it to be special.”

  “It is, beautiful, but do you know how many nights I’ve laid awake over the last month wishing you were in my arms?” She shakes her head. “Every one. Every night since we first met has been spent needing to hold you.”

  “We don’t have to wait any longer,” she whispers. “I need to be in your arms as much as you want me there.”

  I wrap my arms around her, embracing her, eager to get our life together started.

  “I love you.” I squeeze her tighter when the words I’ve been dying to hear leave her lips.

  “Jesus, you slay me, woman.” My lips crash against hers with nothing between us but a few layers of easily removable clothes. No questions linger on the edge, no doubt of where we’re heading, no unease about where I’m sleeping tonight. I hated closing the door to the guest bedroom on Christmas Eve after making love to her—a part of my soul died that night.

  “Slow down,” she urges when my hands reach for the zipper of her jeans. “I have another gift for you.”

  Slipping past me, she grabs her purse out of the entry closet and walks back to the couch.

  “What’s this?” I ask when she hands me a little picture album. Before she can answer, I flip through, finding my son’s first three years of life showcased in a series of pictures. The first page is our Christmas together, and it goes in reverse until the black and white sonogram picture at the end.

  “It kills me that I missed this part. Hell, every second of his life.”

  “You can be there the next time,” she insists.

  I waggle my eyebrows. “Can we get started on practicing tonight?”

  “You want another baby?”
>
  “Of course. I want tons of babies with you.” She reaches out to me and I hand her the album, thinking that’s what she wants, but she just places it beside her on the couch and grabs my hand.

  “No need in practicing,” she whispers as she places my hand on her lower belly.

  My eyes dart to hers, finding unshed tears and a gentle smile.

  “Another baby? We’re having another baby?”

  She nods, the quaint dip of her head all the confirmation I need for the sobs to begin. I pull her to my chest and cry for all the mistakes I’ve made and the ways I’ll sacrifice every second of everyday to make sure I never disappoint her or my children again.

  “We still get to have sex tonight,” she whispers against my temple. Cleansing laughter bubbles up from my chest. Just like that, everything is once again perfect in my world. I lift her up and kiss her all the way to the bedroom, knowing it will be the last time I ever have to sleep in bed alone.

  Epilogue

  Blaze

  “Calm down,” my wife chastises playfully. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  “He’s not even six yet,” I counter. “He doesn’t have a clue about babies.”

  I feel her hand against my chest as I try to step forward and take over for Phoenix as he holds his three-day-old brother.

  “He helps with the babies at the daycare,” she explains. “He knows more about babies than you do.”

  “That stings,” I grumble.

  “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.” To ease the burn of her words, she smacks a sweet kiss on my lips before showing Phoenix how to keep his arm under Miles’ head.

  This is a bittersweet moment for us all. The heartbreaking discovery three years ago that the baby we’d celebrated didn’t have a heartbeat when we went for our first sonogram was more than difficult to wrap our heads around. Both Fallyn and I blamed our own shortcomings for that loss, but we made it through the other side stronger than ever.

  Miles was another happy surprise, and we held our breaths nearly every second after the double lines showed up on the test, only allowing ourselves to finally take a sure breath when he was born.

  “That’s perfect,” Fallyn praises our oldest son, who only takes his eyes off his brother for a second to look up at me.

  “I’m gonna be the best big brother ever,” he tells me, his watchful gaze going back to the responsibility in his arms.

  “I know you will,” I say, looking at them both.

  Fallyn takes a cautious step away and rests her head on my chest as we watch them bond.

  “My heart is singing right now.”

  I kiss her forehead. “Mine too, beautiful.”

  “I think we’re going to be so happy here,” she whispers as the warm, briny air from the open patio doors fills the condo.

  I hold her tighter, thankful she’s stood by my side the last three years. We remarried in the same chapel with Phoenix standing beside us in the most adorable Mini Me costume, only this time, we made sure to take and file the marriage license ourselves the same day the ceremony was performed.

  When we ran into Bones on the street, I was unaffected by it. She wasn’t part of my life then, so she had no idea who he was until I mentioned his role in my life once we’d gotten back home. She seemed concerned and wholeheartedly agreed when I suggested we move, and two short months ago, we left Vegas. Seven months pregnant, she put in a transfer at her job and didn’t look back.

  My job history at the factory made it easy for me to find a supervisory position at a similar plant just a handful of miles from the home we fell in love with when we found it online. An added bonus, we’re only half an hour from her best friend Brittney and her husband Dean. They’re working on baby number three, and it’s nice to have people we consider family so close by.

  “Think he’ll like his school?” Fallyn asks.

  “I think he will. He’s never met a stranger, so I know he’ll acclimate well.”

  The rating of the school district was one of the things we considered when we moved. Being born after September first, he’s had to wait almost a full year longer than most to start kindergarten, but he’s itching to get away from the younger kids at daycare. He told me as much last week when I was talking to him, trying to prepare him for the arrival of Miles.

  “Big brothers are supposed to go to big boy school, Dad.” That’s what he told me on the ride to the grocery store for spicy chips Fallyn insisted she needed to trigger her labor when the copious amounts of sex didn’t work.

  “When can we get started on the next one?” I ask, only half joking.

  She points to the newborn. “He was six ounces bigger than Phoenix! Do you have any idea how painful it is to birth a baby that big?”

  I hold up my wrapped hand and give my fingers a painful little wave. “I think I have some idea.”

  Her eyes sparkle with mirth. “That’s not even the half of it.”

  I tug her back against my chest. “So, that means we have to wait a few weeks?”

  She snorts. “The doctor said I have to wait six weeks before I even think about sticking anything in there.”

  I grin and look down at her. “What did he say about your mouth?”

  My chuckle turns into a wince of pain as my uninjured hand is tilted back, becoming my most recently injured one.

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  Marie James Stalkers

  More Than a Memory Excerpt

  Chapter 1

  Olivia

  “You look better.” I smile at my computer screen.

  What were once vibrant blue eyes peer back at me, red-rimmed and dull.

  “I still feel like shit.”

  Prominent shadows under his eyes, lines of exhaustion across his forehead, and the downturn of his once always smiling lips are evidence of his tiredness, but it’s to be expected.

  “You’re gorgeous. Even better looking than the day I fell in love with you.”

  “And what day was that, sweet cheeks?” His eyes brighten marginally. We’ve had this conversation more than once.

  I love the nickname he gave me so long ago. He was trying to act mature and look important in front of his friends. In high school, many guys thought acting like a douche was the best way to get the girl. It was never “beautiful”, “pretty girl”, or hell, even my first name. Years later, the intentionally derogative name stuck. I used to hate it, but now I wouldn’t want to be called anything else.

  “First day of freshman year,” I say with a knowing smirk. Even when he was propped up against the wall with a small group of buddies our first day of high school, spouting offensive comments my way, I knew he was mine.

  “I was covered in acne and had braces.”

  “Like I said, even better looking than the day I fell in love with you.” He chuckles at my wink. I love the sound of his laugh. I haven’t heard it as much lately, and today, it’s a balm to my saddened heart.

  His face grows serious and his Adam’s apple bobs with a rough swallow. “I miss you so much.”

  “Can’t be more than I miss you.” My face falls and my eyes tear up, unable to keep the pain contained at hearing the devotion in his voice.

  “I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

  I reach out and stroke his face on the computer screen. I miss him more with each passing day. “I love you.”

  “I love you, sweet cheeks. Chat with you later?”

  I nod just before the screen goes dark. Chat with you later…never goodbye.

  ***

  I’m knee deep in YouTube videos when my phone rings. I ignore it like I always do the first time, and continue to watch the panda bear as it swings upside down on a rope ladder. The phone rings again and I sigh, scooping it up off the table.

  “Yes, Mother?” I don’t even have to look at the screen. She’s the only one who calls me anymore, and for that, I’m grateful. I lost my tolerance for fake, nosy people months ag
o.

  “How are you?” The lighthearted tinkle of her voice drives me nuts. At least, it seems to these days.

  “Fine.” Miserable.

  “You know why I’m calling, Olivia. Are you ready to discuss it?” She’s been hounding me for weeks. It’s either talk about it now, or wait and try to put her off again tomorrow. The longer I take to discuss the issue, the greater the chance of her showing up on my doorstep—and that’s the last thing I need.

  Closing my computer, I sit up straighter on the couch, strengthening my resolve for what’s to come.

  “Now is fine,” I say, the words coming out in a huff. I pick at the stickers covering my laptop, my lips purse as I wait for my mother to preach the same sermon she’s been shoving down my throat for months.

  “Are you planning to go back to school this semester?”

  “No,” I say, blinking into the empty room, my voice portraying every bit of the shitty attitude I have toward the topic. She already knew the answer. It’s the same every time she asks.

  “You need to come home then.” Her voice grows deeper, which means she’s losing her patience—another thing that seems to be happening more readily these last few weeks.

  “I’m not coming home.”

  Her sigh is so loud, I have to pull my phone away from my ear. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  Then why did you ask?

  “I’m going to rent the other room,” she says, a coolness in her voice, as if she didn’t drop a damn bomb in the middle of my living room.

  I chuckle with a flippant defiance. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I need help with the rent.”

  Annoyed, I almost hang up on her. She’s clearly lost her mind. My mother hasn’t worked a day in her adult life. My father has been beyond successful in numerous business endeavors. We’re what people would consider upper-upper class. She spends half of my apartment’s rent on her hair each month. She’s far from desperate in needing assistance to pay for the empty room.

  “Think of something else. The rent excuse isn’t going to fly.” Frustrated with the broken record, I grab my laptop and head to my bedroom. A long nap after this conversation is a must.