by Roya Carmen
As the needle stings my skin, and the pain pricks my nerve endings, I try to focus my attention away from it, reminding myself of what Weston taught me. I bring my hands together over my chest and dig my nails into the flesh of my palm. Who knew a snorkeling lesson would come in so handy? I’m brought back to that balmy day in Hawaii, his fingers lingering on the insides of my thighs, making their way ever so slowly to my sweet spot, my mask fogging up in record time.
God, that was hot.
“Wow, I’m impressed,” Gabe says, rudely breaking me out of my reverie. “Not even a single sound.”
“Uh…yeah,” I say. My voice cracks because there is pain. “It’s…not…too bad. I need to focus on my breathing,” I tell him. I’m branding my skin with his name, the least he could do is shut the heck up and let me go back to my daydream. I feel a tinge of guilt thinking about Weston, transporting myself to another place, to other sensations, but it does seem to keep the pain at bay.
“She’s doing great,” Vanessa says. “She’s a real trooper.”
I know Weston won’t like this tattoo when he sees it. He’ll hate it. I wonder how he’ll react but I don’t care. I’m not his. He has no say in this. I’m Gabe’s and will always be.
I keep breathing, and try to focus on the self-inflicted pain on the palm of my hand. Every now and then, I open my eyes to see Gabe looming over us. He smiles at me. I glare at him. It seems every time I’m in physical pain, he has something to do with it, whether it’s childbirth, getting a tattoo, or working out about once a year at the club with him.
Emotional pain is another matter altogether…that’s Weston’s department.
“You did it,” Vanessa cheers. “We’re all done.”
I attempt to sit, the pain still searing through me. The tattoo is beautiful, the black ink a stark contrast to my skin, bruised and pink. I smile up at Gabe. I can see the happiness, in both his smile and his eyes.
He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispers.
Gabe is unusually tender tonight. He’s very slow and gentle. As he pulls my tank top off, he kisses the side of my torso softly. I practically rip his white T-shirt off.
His soft laughter fills our bedroom. “Someone’s a little frisky tonight.”
“Does Mr. Keates have a problem with that?” I ask with a cheeky smile. I undo his jeans and try to get him out of them as fast as possible. It’s been ages since we’ve made love, and I miss his touch. I miss having him close, deep inside me.
He trails his finger softly along the edges of the bandage on my left hip. “I love you,” he says as his large hazel eyes gaze down at me.
I pull him to me and kiss him. “I love you, too.”
“Don’t think, even for a second, that I don’t love you like crazy,” he says as his finger trails to the band of my panties. “Just because I agree to share you,” he goes on as he peels them off gently, “doesn’t mean you don’t mean the world to me.”
I smile. “Yeah, that goes both ways, baby.” My breaths are ragged. I want all this talk to end. I just want him to pounce like he usually does.
I trail my finger along the curves of his large tribal tattoo and slowly make my way south, to the bandage on his hip. Part of me wants to rip it off and see my name on his flesh.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he presses against me, careful not to press his hips too hard on mine. I relish the feeling of his soft warm naked body on mine, cozy under the sheets. I feel so secure, comfortable, at home with him—like nothing in the world could ever hurt me.
I don’t quite feel this way with Weston. With him, a small part of me feels insecure. My body is on edge, at the precipice of something unknown, but something impossibly exciting. I feel like I could get hurt, but I still want to take that jump. When I’m with Weston, I feel like I’m leaning off a cliff. But with Gabe it’s pure comfort, like we’re lying on a cozy blanket in a meadow, the sun shining down on us.
Tonight Gabe and I make love, something we haven’t done in a while.
And it’s perfect.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
…this is for my eyes only.
IT’S THE BIG DAY. Thirty-six. At least it won’t be as horrible as last year. Thirty-five was hard. And for some reason, I feel younger now…more energetic, more alive. I know that probably has a little to do with Weston.
But still, birthdays are never great once you reach the age of twenty-five and can legally rent a car. But this is a new year, a new me, a bolder “inked” me.
I’m wrapped up in the paisley patterned crisp cotton sheets, enjoying a sleep-in.
Gabe insisted I stay in bed. He always makes such a big deal out of my birthday. Every year, he gets up early and decorates the house with streamers and balloons, and makes me breakfast in bed. I think it’s as much about the girls as it is about me, they love to help out.
I’ve been awake for a while and I can hear them downstairs, fumbling around. It sounds like chaos. “Daddy, Claire is covered in jam,” I hear Chloe shout. “Don’t touch the pan,” I hear Gabe. Something tells me I’m about to eat breakfast. The question is whether it will be edible or not. Gabe’s cooking skills are not great, but he’s not completely useless. Today is even more fun, because my birthday falls on a Saturday, and I can look forward to a full day of pampering.
Chloe’s wide crooked smile is the first thing I see as she carries a tray into my room. Claire and Gabe trail behind her.
“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Gabe offers with a smile. He looks good with his gray lounging pants, a faded T-shirt, and mussed hair. And for a second, I wish it was just him and me, but just for one second, because the girls are so adorable, full of smiles, and “happy birthday, Mommy.”
The breakfast is somewhat impressive this morning; scrambled veggie omelet, toast with jam, a peeled orange, cranberry juice and milk.
I shoot him a smile. “You bought the juice I like.”
“I aim to please.”
I venture a bite of the omelet. It’s very weird eating with three people standing in front of you, watching you intently. I feel like a food critic.
“It’s uh…good,” I offer.
The girls smile, seemingly satisfied.
“Try the toast,” Claire presses. “I made it.”
“Did you, now?” I say, taking a big bite—it’s kind of dry and cold. “It’s delicious,” I tell her, my mouth full of raspberry jam covered toasted bread.
A wide smile stretches across her adorable face. She seems pleased as pie.
“I got you the news,” Gabe says as he hands me the rolled-up daily paper. “We’ll let you eat in peace and you come down when you want.”
“We got presents,” Chloe beams. “Lots of presents.”
I open the paper and skip all the daily news and turn to the entertainment section…hey…it’s my birthday.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask Gabe, still lounging in my flower covered pajamas.
“I thought we’d go to the park for a hike and McDonalds for lunch,” he says, coffee in hand.
I love Big Macs and if there’s a perfect day for a Big Mac, it’s your birthday. “Sounds good,” I cheer and I can’t help but notice the messy kitchen. It seems to have been hit by a typhoon.
“I’m cleaning after coffee,” Gabe is quick to tell me. “For dinner, I thought I’d make dinner and we could have a family movie night.”
“Great,” I say with a smile. Gabe’s specialty is homemade mac and cheese and heating up frozen chicken wings. It’s pretty damn good. And I know there will most likely be a chocolate cake with colorful sprinkles (homemade from the box) involved, the girls love baking.
I know it doesn’t sound too exciting for a Saturday night, but it sounds perfect to me. I’m really looking forward to my day. A while ago, Gabe and I decided to forgo our usual naughty Saturday gallivanting, Gabe wanted to spend my birthday with me. And there’s no one I would rather share it with, and that includes the
enigmatic Weston Hanson.
“It’s time to open presents,” Chloe announces loudly, practically screaming. She has arranged the gifts in front of the sofa in the living area; a myriad of wrapped boxes and gift bags with colorful tissue paper.
I take a seat on the sofa, sandwiched between Chloe and Claire. Claire practically flies off the sofa and grabs the smallest bag.
She hands me the small polka-dot covered pink bag with the hugest grin I’ve ever seen. “This one is from me and Chloe.”
I carefully pull out the small white box from the gift bag, open it, and smile.
“It’s for your collection,” Chloe says. “You didn’t have a seahorse.”
“I didn’t. It’s beautiful. I love it.”
I truly love it. This brooch collection seems to have become Chloe’s and Claire’s personal mission. They seem to be working on my having every single bug and animal species in the animal kingdom.
The next gifts are from my dad and my brother Jake and his wife. I won’t be seeing them anytime soon. Three hours is quite the trek to visit for a birthday, but they always have the foresight to send me a little something. A beautiful silk scarf and a pretty notebook are this year’s gifts. I appreciate the effort mostly, it means so much to me.
The last two gifts are from Gabe. He smiles as I unwrap the first. I can tell it’s a book. It’s wrapped hazardously with tape in all the wrong places and no bow. I smile at the sight—such manly wrapping. But at least he tried, and didn’t just stick it in a gift bag.
I smile when I unwrap it. It’s one from my favorite authors.
“I haven’t read this one,” I pipe up, quickly reading the blurb at the back.
“I know. I did a little research, checked out your library.”
“You’re such a good husband,” I tease with a sly smile. “You should be rewarded.”
He laughs. “Oh, but today is all about you, babe.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t both have a little fun.”
His gaze travels across the room, from the girls, back to me. He’s so bashful around the kids. “Well, if that’s the case,” he says, a huge smile on his face, “my next gift might come in handy.”
I reach for the black gift bag, and don’t waste any time opening it. It’s a pink laced teddy. It’s tasteful and pricey-looking. I love it.
“That’s pretty, Mommy,” Claire chimes in, her sweet unsuspecting face adorable.
“Is that for sleeping?” Chloe asks. She seems slightly confused. “Is it for summer time? It doesn’t look very warm.”
“Yes…yes,” I stammer a little. “That’s exactly what it is, a summer nightie. Isn’t it pretty?”
“It will be even prettier on you,” Gabe whispers against my ear. “I can’t wait to see it on.”
I smile. “Is this gift really for me, or is it for you, Mister?”
He laughs and squeezes my waist.
And I know what we’d be doing right now if the girls weren’t here.
He pulls me close against him. “By the way, this is for my eyes only,” he breathes. His tone is clipped and stern. I know what he’s saying.
“Yes, of course, Gabe. I’ll only wear it for you.”
“Good,” he adds with a smile. “Glad to hear it.”
Just as we’re heading out to go for a hike, the doorbell chimes. Thankfully, I’m fully dressed now. I open the door to two grumpy delivery men. They certainly don’t seem too happy to be working today.
There are two huge boxes sandwiched between them. I’m surprised. I haven’t ordered anything. I’m not expecting any deliveries, especially one this large.
“Sign here,” the taller one says.
I grab the digital display gadget and do as told quickly, not wanting to step on his toes and slow down his day.
Gabe saunters in, looking as stunned as I am. He grabs the smaller box and brings it in.
He reaches for the bigger box. He struggles and the two men help him out, still wearing their crabby expressions. Now I understand why these two are so cranky, the thing probably weighs a ton.
They need to flip it on its side to fit in the entryway, and it gets awkward. Gabe scowls and the tall guy too. All the while, I’m thinking, “What is this?”
I venture a peek at the white label—it’s from “Hanson & Hersch Developments.”
Weston.
It’s something from Weston. It has to be a birthday gift, the coincidence is just too great. I didn’t realize he even knew when my birthday was. But then again, he seems to know everything. If someone mentioned it at any point, he would remember.
I spot a white envelope with my name scribbled on it, stuck on the larger box securely with packing tape.
Yes, this is all for me.
Sudden excitement fills me. I can’t wait to dive into these boxes.
Gabe wipes his brow and thanks the delivery men profusely.
He turns to look at me briefly before his gaze rests on the card and label on the box. I can tell by his expression that he’s added two and two.
“I guess Weston has sent you a little something for your birthday,” he says, his words clipped, drenched in sarcasm.
“I guess,” I say, standing there, frozen when all I really want to do is get at those boxes and tear them open, like a wild hyena on a zebra carcass.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
My nails scrape unsuccessfully at the packing tape, and I venture a look up at him.
“Let me get you a packing knife,” he offers. I think he’s secretly as intrigued as I am.
The girls bound down the stairs.
Chloe combs her long curly locks into submission. “What is it, Mom?”
“My friend Weston sent something for my birthday, I think.”
“Cool,” she says with all the grown-up attitude of a nearly-tween girl—she seems so mature for her age.
“It’s big,” Claire chimes in. “I wonder what it is.”
“Me too,” I say, peeling the card off the top of the box. I tear the envelope open so fast, I almost rip the card apart. It’s a pretty traditional birthday card with a bouquet of tulips on the front. My eyes jump instantly to the handwritten text.
Have a great day and have fun playing.
Love, Weston
Have fun playing? That’s odd. What does he mean?
Gabe sprints up the stairs from the basement, and goes to work on the big box.
“I wonder what he got you. Probably something kinky,” he adds with a wicked smile. “The guy is all kinds of weird.”
“Shut up.”
“Are you sure we should be opening these boxes in front of the girls,” he whispers, but not low enough.
“Yes, we want to see it,” Chloe chimes in, unimpressed.
“I’m serious,” Gabe adds, pulling the box open. A white foam layer keeps us in suspense.
Then, he spots the card in my hand.
“Give me that,” he says and I quickly oblige, handing him the card. I have nothing to hide.
He too, hops right to the handwritten text. A huge smile almost splits his face in two.
“I knew it, Mirella,” he says as he stands to his feet. He inches closer to me, his mouth practically stuck to my ear, that annoyingly cocky smile still plastered on his face. “It’s probably a bunch of sex toys,” he whispers in my ear.
“No, it isn’t. He would never,” I argue. “He knows I have the girls.”
“Or maybe…” he ventures softly, “it’s video equipment. He probably wants us to record our bedroom exploits. You know how the creepy prick likes to watch.”
“That’s enough,” I snap and push him away, so hard he almost falls over the box.
Jerk.
“I’m serious, Ella,” he tells me as his expression softens. “I don’t want you to open this in front of the kids, just in case.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” I say, rolling my eyes practically back into my head. “Fine.”
“But
we want to see,” Chloe wines, sudden alarm on her face.
“I’ll show you in a minute,” I tell them as I urge them both back upstairs. “I promise.”
The girls safely hidden away, Gabe turns the box on its side and I assist him in pulling the huge cube of foam out of the box. Damn, there’s more packing tape to be tackled, which Gabe does so swiftly. When we pry apart the walls of foam, I see it.
I recognize it instantly.
It’s my dream house.
It’s the same one I’d seen at F.A.O. Schwarz. Emotion washes over me. What a thoughtful gesture. He remembered. Tears almost make their way to the surface and I will them away. It takes all the strength I have, but I can’t let Gabe see how I really feel. Instead, I decide to make light of it.
“Wow, this is so very naughty. I’m so glad the girls didn’t have to be scandalized by the sight of this,” I say, looking up at Gabe with a cocky smile.
Gabe smiles, mildly amused.
“Girls,” I call as loudly as I can. “Come downstairs.”
The girls make their way down the stairs, and their eyes practically pop out of their heads.
“It’s that house. It’s that house, from the big toy store in New York,” Claire exclaims. “The one Mommy really liked.”
“I know,” Chloe says, completely enthralled by the sight of the big beautiful yellow doll house.
I let the girls explore, knowing I’ll be able to discover it later. I’m still reeling at this point, and I no longer want to go for a hike. I want to play all day. The pretty yellow house is empty and I know the second box probably holds all the furnishings. I want to open that box more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I can’t do this to Gabe. He’s planned a whole day for us and I want to respect that.
“We’ll play later, girls,” I tell them. “It’s time to go for our hike.”
“But, Mommy…” they both whine in unison…in stereo.
