“Yes to the window and I know how much you love to shop any time of the year. This is my way of giving in to all your desires.” She batted her eyelashes.
“Since you love lists, I can compile one that includes my actual desires. And shopping will never be on it.”
We both held a child in our arms, staring into each other’s eyes.
“No need. I can always see what you’re craving.”
The door to the shop was locked. I yanked my phone out of my jeans pocket to consult the time. I was five minutes early.
I blew into my hands, cursing my aversion to gloves.
An older gentleman who looked like he just stepped out of an English pub, circa 1940, approached from my left, making his way from town center. “Mrs. Petrie?”
“Lizzie, please.”
He tilted his head, gripping his cane with both hands. “How can I help you today?”
I’d explained to the woman on the phone I wanted to purchase the locket in the window, but apparently, this man didn’t get that part of my message.
I pointed to it in the window. “I’d like to buy that for my—” I stopped myself from saying wife to the crumpled old man, who may or may not approve of same-sex couples. It was hit or miss in Colorado. Two-hours away resided the headquarters for Focus on the Family, an active opponent of homosexuality, who believed in conversion therapies. “Mom,” I said, disappointed in myself but not wanting to waste the energy.
“A beautiful piece. Let’s go in.” It took him a few stabs to get the key into the lock. Holding the door for me, making me feel awkward since I should be holding it for him, he waved me inside.
The inside smelled like a grandparents’ basement, or so I assumed. “You have some lovely things here,” I said, trying not to breathe in too deeply.
He nodded appreciatively.
I sat in the chair next to his desk, after he made a bossy gesture for me to take a seat, which I interpreted to mean he didn’t want me wandering around the store, browsing. He had no worries there. If Maddie were with me, she wouldn’t be able to contain herself.
After gathering the locket, he sat in his chair. “This is quite the piece.” He held it in his wrinkled and liver-spotted hand. “Twelve carat gold fill. Ruby Victorian paste stone and seed pearls. This locket was made in Providence, somewhere between 1880 and 1920.” He flipped it open. “Do you have a sibling?”
“Yes,” I said, perplexed.
“You can slip in both photos for your mother.”
I nodded. “That’s the plan.” Albeit, it would be photos of Freddie and Ollie.
He turned it over. “On the back are the initials O, F, and C.”
I leaned closer. “Really?” We had discussed potential names for our third child, and the letter C was perfect for the names under consideration.
Maybe he sensed my keenness, because his sharp smile reminded me of a used car salesman dealing with a live one.
Nice job, Lizzie.
He got to his feet, his knees cracking. “I have a twenty-four-inch gold chain that would pair nicely with this.” He disappeared into the back of the shop.
I pulled my wallet out of my messenger bag.
“Here it is.” He held it between a thumb and forefinger.
“Perfect. How much do I owe you?”
He retook his seat. “Would nineteen hundred suit you?”
“Do you prefer credit or check?”
By the time I finished at the grocery store, it was after eleven, so I phoned Maddie. She was taking time off from her design business for the rest of the year.
“It’s still kinda early, you know.” Her voice was overly peppy, clueing me in her complaint was intended to be playful.
“Do you have a recent photo of the twins together?” I’d need to save a space in the locket for the Christmas miracle.
“Not the question I was expecting, but yes. I have quite a few. Do you want to come over so we can chat?”
For the past year, Maddie had been an avid photographer, purely a hobby, and the twins were one of her favorite subjects.
“Sounds great. I’m finalizing some things for Sarah. Up next on my shopping list is”—I consulted the paper and read with uncertainty in my voice—“Hobby Lobby.”
“She must be desperate or insane to send you there.”
I groaned. “What does she really need from there? Can’t I go to Jorie’s shop instead? She’d take pity on me.” I scanned Sarah’s shopping items.
“Jorie works in a toy store. Hobby Lobby is an arts and crafts store.”
“So, that’s a no, then?”
“Hard no. Totally different things. Besides, Jorie’s out of town for the holiday. Don’t worry. I’m around the corner and will pop in to help. We can’t have you wandering the aisles for hours never to be seen again. That’d ruin Sarah’s holiday.”
That night, I sat at the kitchen table as Sarah demonstrated how to assemble the placeholders she wanted me to make for Christmas Eve dinner.
Her latest brainstorm was to create one new homemade article each season so that in twenty years we’d have a lot of junk. I kept the last thought to myself, naturally.
“Glue the bottom of the pinecone, and stick it on the gold painted Styrofoam square, like this.” She used the glue gun. “Cut the extra-long wooden toothpick so it’s this long.” She held it up, and it looked to be roughly eight inches. “Glue a wood ball on top of the pinecone, with the hole facing up. Fill the hole with glue, and stick the toothpick into the glue.” Again, she used the gun. “Cut the red felt into a triangle and this shape.” She held up a cutout that was chunky at the top and narrow at the bottoms. “Glue one of the corners of the triangle, and attach the other corner to make a hat.” She shredded one of the cotton balls. “Use this to fill the hat, and then place it over the toothpick onto the head. Glue the hat down. Take this piece of fabric and wrap it around the neck for the scarf.” With one eye squinted, Sarah judged if I was still with her, and I nodded. “Hang the tiny bell on this gold chain, and put it around the neck.” She smiled as her creation started taking shape. “Glue a small cotton ball on top of the red hat.” She picked up a black marker. “Draw two eyeballs and a mouth. And voilà!” She held up her pinecone man. “Do you think you can manage the rest? Maddie and I are going to tackle the gingerbread house.”
“You won’t be far in case I need you?” I eyed the supplies, trying to remember all the steps.
“Sometimes, you’re adorable, and I forget you have a PhD.” She patted my cheek.
“That didn’t answer my question,” I muttered under my breath.
My first task was to brew a cup of strong black tea.
That mission accomplished, I set out to make an assembly line of sorts, cutting all the red felt first into thirteen hats and scarves. Next, I snipped all the toothpicks. By the time I prepped everything, I dove in with my first attempt.
When I completed it, I compared it to Sarah’s man. Mine had a childish quality. Was that her goal and the reason she’d tasked me with this? To tell people years from now the twins made them, not me?
On the third creation, Maddie entered the kitchen. “I’m going to make some eggnog. You want some?”
“Not sure that would mesh well with operating a hot glue gun.”
“Come on. Live a little, and stop acting like an old lady.” She surveyed my progress. “I have to admit, when I showed Sarah the YouTube clip for this”—she waved to the supplies—“I didn’t know she’d go through with it and force you to make these.”
“You have met my wife, right? Raising twins hasn’t slowed down her mania for celebrations.”
Maddie tilted her head back, laughing. “You should see the gingerbread house operation in the dining room. You have it easy; trust me.” She made a pshaw sound, getting to work on the eggnog, bobbing her head to the Christmas tunes Sarah had playing on the recently installed speakers throughout the bottom floor of the house.
The twins were in their room, saf
e in their beds. I glanced at the monitors on my left, smiling.
Maddie set down a cup for me. “For when you finish.” She sat on the chair next to me, sipping her drink. “I hear you’ve finally given in.”
I prepped a cotton ball for one of the hats. “About what?” I peeked to ensure Sarah wasn’t within earshot. “Not sure you noticed, but I give in to Sarah a lot.” I squirted some glue, but the gun slipped in my hand, making contact with one of my fingers holding the cotton ball in place. “Fuck! That’s hot!” I shook my finger.
Maddie reached out. “Let me see.”
The tiny globule of glue continued to burn.
“It needs to harden so we can get it off.” Maddie blew onto it.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah approached with a mother-hen look.
“Lizzie’s showing off her exceptional craft skills.” Maddie scraped the glue, but it wasn’t relenting quite yet.
Sarah planted a kiss on top of my head. “Where are the green guys?”
I cranked my neck to stare up into her eyes. “What green guys?”
“There’s green felt in addition to red.” She pointed at the fabric.
I hadn’t noticed the pile of green felt at all, and I had zero recollection of buying it. I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I was getting to them.”
Maddie, with narrowed eyes, started to say something but then went back to attending to my finger. “I think you’ll live.”
Sarah kissed the top of my head again. “Okay, Maddie, we have some work to do. Chop-chop.” She slapped her hands together.
They marched out, Maddie glancing at me over her shoulder as if I could rescue her.
I pointed to the green felt and shrugged.
Sarah and Maddie were still toiling with their project, while I sat on one of the couches in the library, hiding. If either of them asked, I’d claim I was reading a book to prep for the spring semester. To give credence to my cover story, I had a book about the origins of the Hitler Youth open in my lap, with pen and notepad at the ready. This break, I did plan on prepping for the upcoming semester, but what I really wanted was to carve out time to work on a historical novel I’d started many months ago, which had to be set aside for the remaining few weeks of the semester. At the moment, feigning writing seemed like too much work, so I stuck with the Hitler Youth ruse.
The door opened, and I snapped to attention, jotting down the words Hitler Youth. Given the title of the book and my expertise on the subject, it wasn’t all that convincing, but my brain was too muddled to outsmart Sarah.
Sarah, with glass in hand, sat on the couch next to me. “Is it next year yet?”
“Getting closer every minute.” I brushed some hair off her cheek.
“Why do you insist on these elaborate plans every holiday?” She fell back onto the couch with a scooch too much flair. “I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”
Ignoring her sarcasm since she was the one who insisted on these parties, I said, “Clearly, I’m a sociopath.”
She nodded, snuggling against me. “Good thing you’re cute.”
I rested my head on hers. “Good thing you’re sexy as hell.”
“I may have overshot a bit this year.”
Knowing it was best to take this as a silent victory, I said, “We’re almost over the finish line. Are you ready for me to pour you into bed?”
“Can we stay here a little longer? You can keep pretending to read.” She nudged my side with her elbow.
“Honestly, I can’t get away with anything.”
She yawned into my sweater. “Next time, try having the book right side up.”
“What?” I looked, and it was right side up.
“Gotcha, but I had a feeling. You never drink alcohol when trying to get actual work done.”
“That’s what gave me away? I thought the notebook would be a nice touch.” I set the notebook and pen down on the end table.
“I do give you credit for that, but I’m not sure I should condone this type of behavior.”
Time for a diversion, Lizzie style. “Did Maddie go home, or is she in the guest bedroom?”
“Bedroom. I’m hoping she’ll be kind enough to get the kiddos up in the morning like she does sometimes.”
“They do love their aunt.” It was my turn to yawn.
“I’m calling it. Let’s put this day in the books and get some sleep. Who knows how Ollie will wake us tomorrow morning?”
In our bedroom, after stripping off our clothes, we both opted to sleep in the nude. Something Sarah had almost always done pre-twinkies.
Under the covers, Sarah rested her chin on my chest, her eyes a sexy pool of rich chocolate.
Something down below stirred.
Maybe she sensed it, because she moved to kiss me.
Softly.
Sweetly.
I wanted more.
So, I deepened it.
All tiredness seeped from my bones, and red-hot passion surged through me.
I rolled Sarah onto her back, shoving my hip between her legs.
She welcomed it by ramping up the heat of the kiss.
My hip gyrated into her.
My hand trailed down her side.
Sometimes it still amazed me how much I craved Sarah. After all these years. The silly spats. The complications. The happy times. Having twins. The days we stumbled into bed, exhausted. No matter what, my love for Sarah compounded daily. And my desire increased tenfold. I couldn’t imagine not being able to touch her. Hold her. Kiss her. Be inside her.
And every time was like falling in love all over again.
She held my face in both hands as I hovered over her, staring into her gorgeous eyes. “What?”
“You’re amazing, Sarah. The way you make me feel. I wish I could marry you again and again and again.”
Her eyes misted, but she managed to joke, “Says the woman who went into a tailspin when I wanted to settle down.”
“Says the woman who knew exactly what I wanted, even if I was a fucking moron.”
She smiled, not speaking yet, telling me with her eyes she did and would love and protect me until my dying day. I would do the same for her.
I kissed away her tears, landing on her mouth for the sweetest kiss.
My hip still moved into her below, tenderly and slowly.
Our desire had switched gears from fucking to making love.
I left a trail of kisses, from her lips, down her chin, into the dip of her throat, to her right breast. Where I lingered, blissfully bringing her nipple to life with my tongue, grazing it slightly with my teeth. Working my way across her chest, savoring the taste of her skin, I landed on her other nipple, which met me with eager anticipation.
Sarah let out a tiny gasp.
My hip dug into her harder.
She gasped again.
I made my move to head further south, knowing her breasts would always be there for my next visit.
As I traveled down her ticklish and sensitive side, Sarah writhed, reaching overhead, fisting the pillow with both hands. Her back arched slightly, giving me access to her stomach and allowing my fingers to reach under her, holding her up.
I would always hold her up.
No matter how hard things got.
Nothing would stop me from loving her.
My tongue dipped into her belly button, cutting downward to where I belonged.
Over her coarse hair, loving how it scraped against my chin, as if embedding the moment into my skin. My soul. My heart.
Sarah’s musky scent beckoned.
I inhaled deeply.
Again.
She was really squirming now.
Sarah wanted me.
My tongue separated her wet lips.
Dear God, how had this lovely creature walked on the same Earth for over twenty years before I met her?
Every time we made love, it was evident we were always meant to find each other.
To love each other.
To be there forever.
A spurt escaped from me, and I moaned into Sarah.
Her body welcomed it.
My tongue slid upward.
Sarah’s body hitched in anticipation.
I diverted to her inner thigh.
Sarah’s groan was momentarily displeased—or should I say overly suggestive?
“Patience,” I mumbled into her flesh.
“Paybacks are hell.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Between her legs, I had the best view on the planet.
She couldn’t resist a sexy laugh.
I eased two fingers inside her, my eyes devouring the effect this had on her.
Pushing in harder.
Deeper still.
Moving my mouth closer to where she wanted me.
And then I was home.
I flicked her clit with my tongue. Once. Twice. Three times.
Shoving harder inside.
Taking her in my mouth.
Sarah’s hands were on my head, pulling me into her. It took effort to stay where she needed me, but I wouldn’t let her down. Not ever. Together, we reached the next stage of making love. Where the expectations were high. As much as the emotions. Only two people who adored each other could make love as if they’d die if they couldn’t.
“Oh, Lizzie,” she moaned, adding, “I love you.”
It always amazed me how in tune she was with me at all times.
She reached bliss, making me the happiest person on the planet.
The way it should always be.
Both of us spent, I lay in her arms.
“I love the things you do to me,” she whispered.
My fingers walked over her breast. “I need to get my fill of these before you get pregnant again.”
“Maybe they won’t be so sore this time around,” she said without much conviction.
“Just in case, be prepared for regular breast fondling until we officially test the theory.”
“I think that’s something I can adjust to, if forced upon me.” She squeezed me tightly. “You sure you don’t want to carry the baby this time?” Her eyes teased.
A Woman Loved Page 2
