by KD Robichaux
I find it impossible to sleep on flights unless I manage to score a whole row of seats to myself and can lie down. So, I quietly ask Mom to grab my paperback of Kresley Cole’s Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night from my carry-on, maneuver Josalyn to lie across my left arm, and immerse myself in the magical world of Mariketa the Awaited and Bowen MacRieve.
Josalyn doesn’t wake up the entire three-hour flight, and after the two full cans of tomato juice I’ve drank, the only thing on my mind is getting to a bathroom as soon as the doors open. But when everyone stands, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartments, and we start filing out of the bird, the sentimental part of my brain perks up when I see the pilot step out from behind the cockpit’s door. His grin is contagious as he looks at my daughter with wide eyes, asking her in his deep voice, “Is this the little one who earned her wings today?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer, laughing when she reaches her arms out to him and makes grabby hands. He glances at me, silently asking for permission to take her, and I turn her toward him.
As soon as she’s in his arms, she lays her chubby cheek against his chest and lets out a dramatic sigh, giggling when he tickles her floral pajama-covered belly. “Did you enjoy your first flight, little one?” he asks her in an excited, high-pitched voice.
She looks up at him and lets out some gurgling baby babble, smiling the whole time as if what she’s saying makes perfect sense and expects a response.
The pilot doesn’t disappoint. “Is that so? Well, I’ll take that into consideration on the next leg. Did you know I’ve flown with your Uncle Mark? Yeah? He is quite the character, always rapping the safety instructions.” Seeing the surprised look on my face, he explains, “We know when there are Southwest family members on the flight. Mark is a hoot.”
“How cool,” my mom says from behind me, and hearing her voice, Josalyn starts wiggling in the captain’s arms, reaching for MomMom instead, apparently finished making friends.
When she takes Josalyn from him, Mom tells him, “Thank you for the smooth flight. Not a single bump.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. It’s a beautiful day today. Enjoy the nice weather here in Houston. You came during one of the only cooler months they get here.”
I start edging down the hall, my bladder standing at attention once again. Mom takes the hint at my ‘I gotta pee’ dance, tells the pilot bye, and hustles to catch up to me. “I’ve got her if you want to run ahead.”
“Ohmagosh, okay,” I rush out, and step lively toward the ladies’ restroom. I nearly collide with a woman as I round into the curved entrance, and call back an apology as I run and lock myself into a stall. I can barely keep myself from moaning aloud at the relief.
“We’re in here, KD,” I hear Mom say from inside the restroom. When I come out, I take Josalyn from her so she can have her turn, and then laugh when Mom doesn’t control her own relieved groan.
After picking up our luggage from baggage claim, which includes three suitcases and Josalyn’s car seat and stroller combo, we pick up our rental car, strap the baby in, and I pull out the directions I printed off MapQuest before we left that will lead us from Hobby Airport to Tony’s house in Kingwood. He had offered to pick us up, but knowing I’d want to spend time in Friendswood, forty-five minutes south of where he lives, I decided to get the rental.
It’s strange driving on the busy highways again, after living in Fayetteville for the past couple years with only its double-lane streets, but about an hour later, since we landed during rush hour, we pull into the driveway of Tony’s massive two-story all brick house. It’s 6:36 p.m. I’m supposed to meet Jason at Deerbrook at 7:30. It’ll take about twenty minutes to get there. I timed it as we passed it by on I-59 on our way here. That means I only have a half-hour to do everything I need to before I leave.
Mom sees what must be obvious panic in my eyes, because as I round the back of the car to get Josalyn out of the back seat, she takes ahold of my shoulders and says, “Breathe, baby girl. I know you’re excited and nervous to see him. Just take a deep breath. Let’s get all our stuff in, meet Buffy, and then you can go fix yourself up before you have to leave. I’m not going to let you drive out of here unless you are calm.”
My head gives a jerky nod as I do what she says. I take deep, soothing breaths as I pop the trunk and get the suitcases out, knowing Mom will be much better off getting Josalyn out instead of hauling the heavy luggage. I collect two of the three bags and I follow behind Mom as she hikes her granddaughter up on her hip and throws the diaper bag over her shoulder, making our way to the front door. Before we can even knock, the door is whooshed open, and standing inside the foyer is a golden goddess with long, glowing blonde hair and the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. I blink a couple times, wrapping my head around what I’m seeing. If Tony hadn’t warned me of what to expect, I would swear Reese Witherspoon is greeting me into my brother’s house.
“Oh, my gosh, you look just like Anthony!” she squeals, pulling me into a hug with an arm around my neck, and before my face is buried in her waist-length mane, I catch a glimpse of her eyes. They're two different colors, unique, but no less gorgeous. I let go of the suitcase handles and wrap my arms around her. A hugger. I love her already.
“Anthony? You call him by his full name?” I laugh.
“That’s pretty cool, I think,” my mom says, smiling at me when I turn toward her. “After all, I’m the one who named him.”
Buffy lets me go and immediately reaches for Josalyn, stealing her out of her grandma’s arms, but then pulls Mom into a tight, one-armed hug at the same time. “It’s so great to finally meet you!”
I can only stand back and grin, and when Buffy finally lets Mom go, she turns to me and says, “Anthony calls me a baby stalker. If there’s one in the vicinity, you can bet your ass I’m going to hold it and make it love me. I was so excited when he told me you and your baby girl were coming!”
Her enthusiasm and unashamed use of the curse word automatically puts me at ease. No stuck up goody two-shoes here. I should have known Tony wouldn’t pick one anyway, but it’s nice to see she is so down-to-earth.
“Well, you're more than welcome to hold her all you want. In the meantime, I’m going to go get the rest of the stuff.” I scoot around Mom, who's still standing in the doorway, and go to grab the last suitcase, and also the car seat out of the backseat, just in case they want to go somewhere for dinner.
As I return to the front door, I hear Buffy saying, “Anthony had to work late, but he should be here within the hour.”
“Okay, great.” Mom turns to take the car seat out of my hand. “Is that it?” At my nod, she tells me, “All right, get your stuff and go freshen up. Don’t worry about Josalyn. I’ve obviously got some good help while you’ll be gone.”
“Gone? Where are you going?” Buffy asks, confused.
“I’m meeting Jason at Deerbrook for a movie in like forty-five minutes.” Saying it aloud causes my heart to thump frantically in my chest.
“Oh, okay. I knew you were coming to spend time with your guy, but I didn’t think you’d be leaving the second you got here. Makes sense though. If it was me coming to see Anthony, I’d do the same thing.” Buffy gives me a smile and then turns to Josalyn to speak baby-talk to her, receiving a four-toothed grin and babble in return.
“Which room do you want us in?” I ask her.
“You and Josalyn will be in the room to the left at the top of the stairs. I’ve set up a Pack 'n Play for you in there beside the bed. And Ava, we’ve got you in Alex’s room, since he and Amanda are at his mom’s house this week. But don’t worry, she knows you’re here, so they’ll be over to visit whenever you want,” she reassures at Mom’s disappointed look. My mommy loves her grandbabies.
I take hold of my suitcase, figuring Tony can haul Mom’s up the stairs later, and drag it up the flight of carpeted steps. I heft it up onto the twin-sized bed, unzip it at lightning speed, and grab my toiletries bag from where it’s nestled betwe
en several pairs of shoes. I had the mind to pack the outfit I wanted to wear tonight on top, so I snatch it out and head toward the bathroom.
Throwing my hair up on top of my head with a claw, I take the fastest shower in history, washing off the airplane funk and replacing it with my current favorite scent: Calvin Klein’s Euphoria. I pull up my dark bellbottom jeans and yank on my hot pink three-quarter sleeve American Eagle Henley over the first sexy bra I’ve worn in a long time. Pregnancy and breastfeeding have confined me to comfy ones for over a year now. With that thought, I remind myself to set out Josalyn’s bottle and formula for my mom. A couple of months ago, our pediatrician thought it would be a good idea to add a bottle of formula to her diet before bed to help raise her weight’s percentile. My girl is long and lean like her mommy.
I brush my hair back out, using a bit of shine serum in the bristles to get the frizz out, and then put on my makeup, my hand trembling as I painstakingly apply my mascara. Finally, I throw everything back in my bag, squirt one last shot of my perfume in my hair, and toss it all into my suitcase as I pass by the room and head down the stairs. When I enter the living room, where Josalyn is cruising the giant square leather ottoman between Mom and Buffy, I glance at the time on the cable box above the big screen TV. 7:05. My heart drops into my stomach and I feel myself wobble on my feet.
I turn back to my mom, and I don’t even have to say a word. “We’ve got her, KD. Have fun.” And I’m out the door.
I jump when my cell phone rings in my lap, and I glance down at the name on the screen, smiling when I see it’s Jason calling.
“I’m almost there!” I say as my greeting.
“I might be just a few minutes late. The traffic was backed up at I-45 and 59, but I’m hauling ass now,” he tells me.
“You don’t need to haul ass. Be careful.” After a beat, I admit, “I’m so fucking nervous. Why am I so nervous? It’s you! I should just be super excited, right?”
“I literally just got off the phone with my buddy, telling him the same thing. I was like, ‘Dude, my fucking heart is about to beat out of my chest.’ He called me a pussy and set me straight. Still nervous, but past the terrified part.”
His confession makes me laugh, releasing a bit of the tension in my shoulders, and I relax back into my seat, realizing I’d been holding myself close to the steering wheel.
“Okay, beautiful. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Park at the JC Penney’s. It’s the entrance closest to the theater,” he mentions helpfully.
“All right,” is all I say before ending the call. I want to tell him how excited I am to see him, how I can’t wait to hug him for the first time in so long, but it’s like my brain is misfiring. The only thing broadcasting across my grey-matter is Get to the mall… Get to the mall… Get to the mall… scrolling on repeat behind my eyeballs.
By the time I pull into the entryway nearest JC Penney’s and find a parking spot, my relief is completely demolished and replaced with a nervousness I’ve never felt in my entire life. I’m actually trembling, my breathing erratic, making me dizzy as my lungs dance to a completely different beat than my heart, my stomach clenching to add to all the crazy feelings going on involuntarily inside me. I don’t know which will happen to me first; will I pass out, puke, or have a heart attack?
I think I’m about to completely lose it, and then my text message tone goes off, and I let loose with an all-out scream inside my rental car. I look around to make sure no one heard me as my face heats at my ridiculousness. I shake my head and look down at my phone.
Jason: I’m here. Meet you at the door.
Oh, shit. Oh, God. I can’t do this! I have to do this. Holy fucking hell. I can’t even get my seat belt off! Okay, it’s off. Open your door. Where’s the goddamn handle? Oh, my God, it’s like that Dane Cook comedy skit, where the girl gives him a blow job and then can’t find the handle to spit it out. Fuck! Oh, there it is. Stand up, Kayla. Close the door. Wait! You forgot your purse. Open the door. Lean in, but don’t hit your head. That’s the last thing you need, a big fucking bruised knot on your head. That would be a lovely first sight of you in two and a half years. Fucking… strap… hooked on… buckle. Come here, you fucker! Got it. Okay, shut the door. Lock it with the remote. Now… the hard part. Walk. Through the darkness, lit only by a few streetlamps scattered throughout the parking lot, I see a tall, masculine figure making its way toward the door from a few rows over from where I’ve parked. All the emotions swirling around inside me are becoming overpowering, and unbidden, my eyes well up with tears. I’m about thirty feet away from where the manly silhouette has stopped, leaning against the side of the building next to the entrance. I press my lips together and take a deep breath, because I know, not by sight, but because my soul is telling me, reaching greedily for its other half it’s missed so much, that it is Jason waiting for me.
That’s when every other feeling aside from love, comfort, and home evaporates from inside me, and I’m filled to the brim with happiness. The last ten feet are closed in a heartbeat and I’m in his arms. I’m surrounded in his familiar scent. My face is buried in that perfect place between his shoulder and his neck. I’m enveloped in the only arms I’ve ever dreamed of being wrapped in. My wish has come true. My Jason is here, and he’s finally mine.
We stand like that for… I don’t even know how long. I can’t pull away, and it feels like he’s experiencing the same urge to never let go. Without removing me, he whispers, “Do you feel that?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
I feel him nod, the short scruff on his face tickling my cheek, setting off intimate memories of other places I’ve felt it against and I shudder. He pulls back then and looks down at me, his dark eyes swallowing me up. The whole world has disappeared from around us. All that exists is the two of us, and the feeling is both wonderful and overwhelming. I don’t even know what to say, and as always, he rescues me before I panic.
“How about we go get a drink before the movie? There’s another showing that starts in about forty-five minutes. This is… intense. I could really go for a Seven and Seven.” He chuckles and puts his palms on the upper part of my arms, sliding them down, up, then all the way down to hold both of my hands. He brings them up to his perfect lips, and I feel them gently press against my knuckles, and it’s like a defibrillator to my very soul. They send lightning bolts up through the blue veins in my hands, up my arms, and down into my chest, where they kick the once dead parts of my heart back to life. Just a few short minutes in his presence, and I’m fully alive again.
“That sounds perfect,” I agree, and he keeps hold of one of my hands as he leads me across the parking lot. When we reach a fern-green Nissan Altima, we cut between it and the truck it’s parked beside, but instead of him opening the passenger-side door like I expect, I suddenly find myself pressed against it. I have the fleeting thought of ‘caught between a rock and a hard place’ before I’m surrounded once again, cloaked in all things Jason. His black Henley’s sleeves pushed up to his elbows, he rests his tattooed forearms where the top of the door meets the hood of the car on either side of me, caging me with his tall, sculpted body. He’s close enough I can see that his eyes are dark chocolate, not pitch-black like most people think, and my breath hitches in my chest as he closes the gap.
Time stands still when his lips press to mine, and I whimper. I could cry it feels so wonderful to touch him once again. He’s here, actually touching me, awakening things inside me I thought I would never feel again. This isn’t one of the fantasies I’ve played out in my head over and over for the past thirty-one months. This is truly happening. With that realization, I deepen the kiss, pressing forward against him, trying to force every square inch of my front to make contact with his.
His response doesn’t disappoint. With his right hand, he cups the back of my neck before he slides his spread fingers into my hair then tightens his grip on my scalp. I couldn’t move away if I tried, but I never would. There is no better feeling in this ent
ire world than Jason Robichaux going primal on me, possessing me as his tongue finally dips between my lips, and when it swirls gracefully around the tip of mine, I’m a goner.
But as suddenly as it began, the kiss ends, and he’s pulling me away from the car so he can open the door. I sit and pull my legs in without using any conscious part of my brain, reaching up to run the pads of my fingers along my swollen lips as he closes the door, walks around the back of the car, and gets into his side.
“There’s an Olive Garden across the street,” he says in a voice that definitely sounds affected by our first kiss as a real couple. I’m just impressed he can speak at all, because the only thing I can do is nod in reply.
It takes no time crossing over FM1960, and we pull into the parking lot just as a light drizzle starts to come down. We rush inside, knowing a Texas raincloud can show up in the middle of a perfectly sunny day and flood an entire neighborhood without the sky even darkening before it’s gone again moments later. It reminds me of movies I’ve seen where people dump their full pots out their windows several floors above the street. Comes out of nowhere. Hopefully it’ll be over before we leave again. I don’t want to sit in a cold-ass theater when I’ve just been rained on.
We tell the hostess we’d like to sit in the bar area, so we don’t have to wait with the couples and families standing inside the entrance who are waiting for a table in the main restaurant. We slide onto the high barstools, and immediately order our drinks, him a Seven and Seven—whatever that is—and me a glass of the Chateau Ste. Michelle Riesling my friend Katie turned me onto last time we went to the Olive Garden in Fayetteville a few months ago.
“What's this drink you’re having?” I ask him as I watch the bartender pour dark liquid over ice in a tumbler, and then tops it off with carbonated clear liquid.
