We Said Forever

by James, Marie

  With one last quick look at the perfect male specimen in my bed, I close him in my room and make my way into Phoenix’s room.

  “Mama, twuck!” he squeals when I enter his room. The black pickup is held over his head like the prized possession he believes it is. I grin at his enthusiasm over the tiny metal toy.

  “Hey, big guy.” I reach into the crib and scoop him up, smiling when I realize he’s gone another night without needing his pull-up. “I think you’re ready for a big boy bed! Let’s get you to the potty, then I’ll make some breakfast.”

  “Pancakes,” he says, not taking his eyes from his toy.

  Fifteen minutes later, Phoenix is squared away and I’m at the kitchen counter mixing batter. I feel him enter the room before I hear or see him. The atmosphere changes when he’s around—an electric crackling, a gravitational force. I resist the need my body hums with to step into is his embrace. It seems I’m stronger at thwarting the urge because he walks up behind me, arms encircling me the way he’s done hundreds of times. I swallow thickly at the memory and turn in his arms, assaulted by messy blond hair and glacier blue eyes sexy enough to almost melt my resolve.

  “Mornin’,” he whispers, leaning his face into mine.

  I turn my head just in time for his warm lips to brush my cheeks.

  “Last night—” I begin.

  “Was perfect,” he interrupts.

  I avoid his gaze, unable to maintain my willpower when I look into his eyes. “It can’t happen again.”

  “Please,” he pants against my neck, “don’t pull away from me. It wasn’t a mistake, Fallyn. You belong in my arms.”

  “It’s too fast,” I counter. “I can’t make the right choices when I’m lost in you.”

  Stormy eyes challenge me, but he takes a step back. As if he can’t help but touch me, his fingers trail down my arm to hold my left hand. The fact that his fingers are toying with the wedding band on my finger doesn’t go unnoticed. I hate the reminder of it when I’m trying to keep things platonic. Limited co-parenting is all I can manage right now.

  “I’m not the wrong choice.” His eyes search mine. “You love me.”

  With a quivering chin, I nod. “Yes.”

  A sharp, relieved breath escapes his lips. “I can work with that.”

  My mouth curves up. “We can’t do the sex part, Blaze. I can’t keep things separate when it’s part of the equation.”

  He chuckles at my declaration. “When our clothes are on the floor and you’re under me, it’s the only time we don’t argue.”

  “Exactly,” I agree, turning back to add the chocolate chips to the pancake batter.

  “I’ll wait as long as you need, beautiful.” A shiver runs up my spine as his breath sweeps over the exposed skin of my shoulder. “I’m here to rebuild our life together, not just get you in my bed.”

  “Thank you,” I manage after a long moment of chastising myself for drawing the “no sex” line in the sand.

  “Anything I can help with?” he asks, taking a step away from my back.

  “You can go find your son and make sure he’s not flushing entire rolls of toilet paper. Plumbers get pretty expensive.” As if on cue, the commode flushes and Blaze is off like a bolt of lightning.

  I finish making breakfast, hiding bits of bacon in the pancake batter since Phoenix refuses to eat anything resembling meat. I haven’t heard a sound other than the soft hum of the air conditioner since Blaze left to track down the tiny terror.

  It doesn’t take me long to locate them. Blaze is crouched down in front of the bathtub, covered in bubbles up to his elbows. My son grins up at me, in heaven at having a bath this early in the morning.

  “What’s going on?” I ask when I notice a red streak across Phoenix’s forehead.

  Blaze nods toward the ruined tube of lipstick sitting on the counter near the sink.

  “He must have had this stashed somewhere,” I grumble, picking up the cosmetic and tossing it in the trash. “I started buying gloss after he did this the first time a couple months ago.”

  “I’ll probably have to repaint the inside of his closet. I caught him flushing baby wipes after his failed attempt to scrub his masterpiece off the walls,” Blaze informs me.

  “Great,” I mumble, plopping down on the closed lid of the toilet. “It’s not the first time I’ve regretted the walls being painted with a flat finish.”

  Blaze chuckles. “Are all kids this destructive?”

  Shrugging, I look over at my son, who has red streaks down each arm. “No clue, but I have a feeling he got his mischievous nature from his father.”

  A soft smile graces his perfect mouth. “I learned pretty young not to do anything to rile my parents up. Even at his age, I knew sitting quietly in my room was one way to keep them from hurting me.”

  Sadness clutches my heart at his confession.

  “I just brought him in here and started cleaning him up. I didn’t know how you’d want me to deal with him doing something like that.” He looks over at me, closing one eye when Phoenix splashes water on his face. “How do you correct the behavior?”

  I sigh. This has been an ongoing struggle. “The first time he did it, I did what the parenting book said and made him help me clean it up, but he did it again an hour later because he liked helping Mommy wash the wall. The second time, I put him in his timeout chair and took away his black truck.”

  I smile when Phoenix digs around in the bubbles until his toy is in his clasped hand. “Twuck!”

  “He hasn’t done it since then, but we kind of missed the window for correction today.”

  “Sorry,” Blaze apologizes. “I’ll come get you next time.”

  “It’s fine,” I answer with honesty, loving the way they’re interacting with each other. “Give him an hour and he’ll be in more trouble.”

  “This isn’t coming off,” he groans, rubbing at the lipstick stains with a gentle hand.

  “It won’t,” I say. “It’s long-lasting. It’ll come off in a couple days. Looks like we’ll have to skip the zoo.”

  His head snaps to mine. “I thought we were going to the park.”

  “The weather is beautiful. Figured the zoo would be more fun.” I shrug, holding back a laugh at the saddened look on his face.

  “I love the zoo,” he mumbles, but his touch remains tender with his son.

  I can’t hold back the laugh this time, and his eyes are filled with love when he looks over at me.

  “I’ve missed your laugh.” My gaze finds his smiling mouth before he turns back to Phoenix. “I’ve missed so much.”

  Reaching over, I pull the plug from the tub, ignoring my son when he complains about the decreasing water level. “Let Daddy rinse you off and I’ll get you some clothes. They’ll be feeding the otters in less than an hour.”

  Blaze’s eyes get as big as Phoenix’s when I confirm we will still be going to the zoo.

  ***

  “He’s enthralled,” Blaze says as we watch Phoenix with his nose against the glass wall of the otter exhibit.

  “These guys are his favorites,” I explain. “Some days we come and never leave this spot. He’s content just to sit and watch them sleep.”

  “I understand the fascination.”

  “No, sir,” I chastise when Phoenix bangs on the glass with his toy truck, trying to grab the attention of the otter nearest to him.

  Blaze walks over, crouching low to speak with him. Phoenix nods, whispers a few words to his dad, and hands over his favorite toy truck. Blaze kisses his forehead and sticks it in his pocket without so much as a dirty look from his son. Pride and a little jealousy wash over me at the exchange, knowing he would’ve thrown a fit if it were me dealing with the situation.

  “What did you say to him?” I ask when Blaze walks back over to where I’m guarding the stroller.

  “That the otters get scared when we bang on the windows of their home. He said he hates thunderstorms and how the tree outside his room knocks on his window.�
� He makes to wrap his arms around me, but thinks twice and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the low brick wall at our backs. “He said he didn’t want them to be scared, and I told him I’d hold his toy while he watches them.”

  “Huh,” I huff, not upset at how Blaze handled the situation, but a little disappointed in myself for not approaching things in the same manner.

  I’ve parented the same way my parents did. I adopted the whole “don’t do it or you’ll get in trouble” style I’d been taught without even realizing it. Blaze, even in the short time he’s been interacting with his son, has managed to find his own style, knowing how his mother and father would’ve handled it isn’t acceptable.

  “You’re good with him,” I admit. “He needs a positive male role model.”

  “I knew I wanted babies with you before you even agreed to marry me,” he says.

  I nod, remembering the way he tried to convince me to skip getting a Plan B pill from the pharmacy after we made love without protection the first time. Incidentally, we never made it to the store to get one, but managed to be in the clear that time. I realize we did the exact same thing again last night and make a mental note to stop by the pharmacy on the way home. It also serves as a reminder of other things I have to tell him—things I know could change how he reads our entire situation.

  “We’re not actually married,” I blurt.

  He nods as a solemn look clouds his eyes. “I figured you divorced me.”

  “I didn’t,” I tell him with a near violent shake of my head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Even living in Vegas for the last seven years, I’ve never been much of a gambler, so not being able to keep this information to myself doesn’t surprise me. I could’ve easily given myself the upper hand by letting him believe I filed paperwork and dissolved our marriage, but I don’t want lies and secrets between us, especially if I’m considering working our way back to each other.

  “The woman at the chapel accidentally put the original marriage license in the envelope she gave us, so it was never officially filed with the clerk,” I explain. “The other paperwork was lost in the wreck.”

  He turns, angling his body toward me, a tear pooling on his eyelashes. “How long have you known?”

  “Please,” I beg, unsure whether the truth is going to hurt him more or help him realize the paperwork never mattered to me. In my heart, I was married to him, my vows, though weathered, hold true even today.

  “No lies,” he whispers, sending a chill up my back. It sounds like a promise on his part that he’ll give me the same courtesy.

  “Since you went to jail after your probation violation. I checked before I visited because we hadn’t gotten our copy in the mail and I wanted to be ready for conjugal visits.”

  A sad smile tugs at his lips. “Clark County doesn’t have conjugal visits.”

  “I know that now. I’m sorry I never told you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” His eyes search mine, and I hope he can read the truth, but I say it anyway.

  “That piece of paper never mattered to me,” I whisper. “My vows stand true.”

  The tear threatening to fall finally manages to crest, rolling down his cheek, but the look in his eyes has turned from disappointment to the same pure love he blessed me with the day we stood in that tiny chapel with wigs on and promised our lives to each other.

  Phoenix walks over to us and flings himself against Blaze’s legs. “Daddy! Elpants!”

  Blaze swings him up on his shoulders, then turns back to me. “Just means we get to get married again.”

  He winks at me and begins walking down the path toward the large animal enclosures.

  I smile and push the stroller behind them. Even though I’m nowhere near ready today, I allow the internal admission at being able to see myself remarrying Blaze Porter to float around in my heart.

  Chapter 44

  Blaze

  “Doesn’t he already have one of these?” I complain in a tease as I try to figure out where the screw goes for the adjustable basketball goal.

  “He does,” Fallyn says as she stuffs Phoenix’s Christmas stocking with more junk food than he’ll ever eat. “But he’s growing out of it.”

  “All he needs is a football,” I mumble, but keep working. We’ve spent the last several hours wrapping gifts and assembling toys.

  I can’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve. Well…I could, but even though the sexual tension every time we’re around each other is damn near palpable, it’s a topic we don’t bring up. We haven’t even revisited it since the night after his birthday party.

  The last three months have been spent enjoying each other as a family on evenings and off days that match up with our schedules, and every night, I go home with more love in my heart than the time before and an ache in my balls even the most arduous hand job can’t seem to ease. Her increase in battery purchases hasn’t gone unnoticed either. Just yesterday, she insisted she needed two thirty-two count packages of AA batteries for Phoenix’s Christmas toys, which I know for a fact is bullshit since we did all that shopping together.

  “Where are you going?” I keep my eyes on the half full battery pack in her hands as she heads down the hall to her room.

  “To put these up,” she says, holding up the package.

  “The battery drawer is in the kitchen.” I bite back a smile when her face falls.

  “Right,” she grumbles, changing direction to the kitchen.

  Quickly climbing to my feet, I pull out the wrapped gift I hid behind the couch and place it on the spot I know she’s returning to. Sitting back down before she returns, I busy myself with the last screw of the basketball goal.

  “What’s this?” she asks with genuine awe, noticing the red and white striped gift in her seat.

  “A gift.”

  “For me?”

  “I didn’t buy it for the sofa,” I tease. “But you’ll have to open it tonight.”

  “Presents are for Christmas morning, Blaze.” Her voice is playful as she repeats the same words she told our son half a dozen times before we managed to get him to sleep.

  “Trust me, you’re not going to want to open that in front of your three-year-old.”

  She keeps her eyes on mine as her fingers tear at the paper. I love how her eyes widen and cheeks flush when she pulls the lid off the top. “Seriously?”

  She holds the blue vibrator up like a magic wand, but intrigue marks her brow.

  “It’s better for the environment, and your bank account.” I point to the box where her eyes dart to the cord inside. “It’s rechargeable.”

  “Blaze,” she groans.

  “See, you don’t need those batteries you were trying to sneak to your room.”

  She laughs, but doesn’t give a voice to the truth of my words.

  “You’re not dating anyone,” she says out of nowhere. “I mean, other than work, you spend all your time here with Phoenix and me.”

  “I don’t think my wife would like it if I had someone on the side.” I grin over at her. “Plus, I don’t want anyone else.”

  “You’re waiting for me.” It’s not a question, but an observation. I’ve told her as much, but it’s as if she’s just now putting my words and actions together in the same sequence.

  “I’m no martyr,” I confess. “I fuck my hand every night when I get home—sometimes twice, depending on how many times I catch your eyes on my mouth.”

  Sighing loudly, she holds the new toy to her chest and looks up at the ceiling. “I miss sex.”

  Three words, out of the blue, unprompted, and my cock thickens immediately.

  “It was the one thing we couldn’t seem to mess up,” I say, my tone husky.

  Her long beat of silence begins to make me nervous. “You seem to remember things differently than I do.”

  “How so?” I set aside the completed basketball goal and ignore the pile of other toys needing to be assembled.

  “After you got out
of jail, you only made love to me once, the first night you came back. Five, including the one time three months ago, is the total number of times we’ve been together.”

  I shake my head, refusing to believe it, but I know she’d know better than I would. Her mind has never been clouded by addiction.

  “The pills pretty much disabled my cock,” I admit.

  “I read that online.” She looks over at me.

  “If it’s any consolation,” I say, getting to my knees and inching closer to her, “I’ve fucked you a million times in my head. Half of those times in the last three months.”

  I haven’t made a move on her since she said we needed to take things slower. She hasn’t touched me even though I’ve caught her watching me, studying my every move as if she were seconds away from attacking me and taking what she needs.

  “My cock works just fine now,” I say. “If you have an itch you need to scratch…”

  Her eyes wander down my chest, stopping when they land on the bulge threatening to bust the zipper on my jeans.

  “Just sex?” she barters. “No expectations?”

  I shake my head, refusing to lie just to give each other what we so desperately need in the moment. “I love you, Fallyn. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t see you as just sex. But I fully understand if you want to use me.”

  Her eyes soften. “I don’t want to use you. I just can’t get lost in it. Keeping a level head isn’t possible.”

  “Can you ever see us back together? A family?” I regret the words the second they leave my mouth. Christmas Eve would be a shitty time to have my heart and hopes crushed.

  My blood thrums when she nods her head. “Just not yet.”

  “I understand.” I honestly do. I’ve caused more heartbreak than any woman should have to go through. I know it takes time, and it’s something I’m willing to give, no matter how long it takes.

  Her eyes dart down to the toy sitting on her chest and I reach for it, placing it on the couch next to her.

  “You have needs.” She nods. “I want to take care of them for you.”

  When she nods again, I know it will take the force of an F5 tornado to pull me away from her.