I feel my orgasm stirring, but I work to hold it off. I look down at Valerie as I thrust into her. I feel my face contorting with the effort not to come. Her eyes are closed, her face turned to the side. Her blond hair falls over the pillow like silk.
“Valerie…” I groan.
She opens her eyes. Our pupils lock, and I look into the depths of her soul. She stares back into mine.
I shudder, working to keep my orgasm at bay. I stiffen my body and freeze over her. Her legs tighten around my back, and she begins riding me from below. Her hips move in circles against my pelvis. I feel her getting close. She starts to moan softly.
“Come, baby,” I say. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Garrett,” she whispers.
Her breath becomes ragged. Her brows lift upwards, as if she’s in shock. I recognize her expression. Her face during orgasm is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I watch her begin to come.
I can’t hold off anymore. She’s so incredibly sexy. Watching her surrender like this is a gift. I feel myself coming with her, shaking as I release.
When we’re both complete, I sink down onto the couch at her side. She shifts to make room for me. I cradle her in my arms. Her hair, which was damp before our lovemaking, is now dry. The darkness of the living room has been replaced by a faint, grey light. The late night has turned into early, early morning.
I hold her tightly as our bodies recover. My breathing evens out. So does hers.
She said that she loves me. No one has ever—ever—said that to me. It feels amazing to be loved like this. More than that, it feels incredible to love like this. In this instant, in the silvery light of a new day, it strikes me. I am free. Not because Clint said so. Not because I’ve stepped away from my troubled past.
I’m free because I’ve learned how to love. Love is freedom. I smile, realizing this.
“Is it getting light out?” Valerie whispers.
“I think so,” I respond.
“Dylan will be up soon,” she says.
“I’ll get him,” I say. “You can go to sleep.”
“No. I don’t want to. This night is too good. I don’t want it to end. I want to feel all of it.”
I grin. That’s exactly how I feel.
“We could make some coffee,” I suggest.
“Like after the first night you stayed here,” she says. She makes a point of looking down at my feet. They’re extending off into the air, at the end of the couch. “This couch is still too small for you.”
“I’m still six three,” I whisper.
She kisses me. “I love you,” she says, unexpectedly.
“I love you, too,” I respond.
I vow, then and there, to tell her this every day, for as long as I live.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Garrett
“I know, man,” I say into the phone. “I know it’s hard. Hey—life is going to be filled with choices like this. A million, tiny decisions. All you have to do is handle one decision at a time.”
I can tell that the teen on the other end of the line is pacing. Raul, a seventeen-year-old who was arrested last year for armed robbery, is full of pent-up energy.
“I just can’t fuckin’ deal with him!” he says. His temper is running hot.
“I know. I know,” I say honestly. I feel him. I understand what it’s like to have anger like his. “It sucks to feel like that,” I say. “But your dad doesn’t know better, Raul. His dad abused him, too. It’s a cycle. Where are you?”
“I had to get out of the house.”
“Where are you?” I say again. I don’t want him to head to his old hangout—a house where several gang members live and others gather throughout the day. Raul is working on putting that behind him.
“On Clark,” he says guiltily, naming the street where the gang hangout is.
“Man, think about what you’re doing. What’s going there going to do for you? What has it ever done for you in the past?”
Silence.
I glance over my shoulder. I see Valerie, setting the picnic table with bright, plastic glasses and plates that we picked up last weekend. The jewel tones sparkle in the early evening sunshine as though they’re crystal. She’s laid a white tablecloth over the table, and a vase of flowers serves as a centerpiece. On another evening, the setting would not be so elaborate. But tonight is special.
Valerie’s mother is kneeling near the sandbox, smiling as Dylan flings shovels full of dirt over his shoulder.
I’m at the edge of the yard, having excused myself briefly. I still keep my phone on twenty-four seven, but nowadays, it’s in case one of the youths in my early intervention caseload needs to talk.
I turn back to the fence, once again giving my focus to Raul.
“Think about it, man. What else could you do, right now, to blow off steam?”
He gives a heavy sigh. I imagine him, walking down the road. Maybe his footsteps are slowing down by now. Maybe—hopefully—he’s stopped walking altogether.
“I could play some ball, I guess,” Raul says.
“Right. I bet there’s a good pick-up game going on right now, over at the rec center. It would feel good to run around a little, right? Get your body moving?”
“Yeah, it would.”
“Let your temper cool down. Blow off steam in a constructive way. Believe me, Raul, going back to your boys isn’t going to give you what you want. You’re making such good progress. You’re on the right track. It comes down to a million little decisions, every day. What are you going to choose today—right now?”
“You’re right,” he says.
I nod. “Right on, Raul. I’m here for you. Hey, when you’re done playing ball, why don’t you stop over here? It’s my son’s birthday, you know.”
“Hey, that’s right.” He sounds happier, all of a sudden.
“You got math homework? You know how Valerie likes checking over your answers.”
He laughs.
“We’ll save some food for you,” I say. “I know you’ll be hungry. Okay, bud?”
“Thanks, man.”
“You got it. We’re in this together. Call me if your feet start moving in the wrong direction,” I say.
“They won’t,” he says. “My head feels straight, now. Thanks.”
“All right. See ya in a bit.”
When we hang up, I feel confident that he will make a good choice. I look forward to seeing him, in a few hours. I’ll share my good news with him.
I’m confident that I’ll have good news to share.
I turn back to Valerie and watch her from my removed viewpoint for a moment. She moves around the table gracefully, setting utensils by each plate. She’s talking with her mother as she works, and occasionally, she and her mother dissolve into spontaneous laughter when Dylan does something silly.
I feel myself laughing silently to myself as I watch the scene.
Soft, billowing grey smoke floats up from our charcoal grill. We thought about getting gas, but both of us love the old-fashioned smell of charcoal. The simple, bowl shaped grill was crazy cheap, but it’s one of my favorite parts about our new backyard.
I check my watch, and see that five minutes have passed since I put the steaks on. Time to flip them. As I jog across the yard, Valerie looks up.
When I reach the grill, she calls out, “Everything okay with Raul?”
“Yep. He got into a fight with his dad. He’ll be okay.”
“He can stay here, if he needs a place,” she offers.
“I told him to come over later.”
She nods and smiles. Valerie is just as passionate about helping out troubled youths as I am. It’s one of the many things I love about her. She even knows some of the students in my intervention program, which is run through state funding. Her students are always happy to see her again. I know what a positive impact she has on their lives.
Our house has become a safe place for the youths we work with. It amazes me how in sync V
alerie and I are, sometimes. It’s like helping the teens fills us up, rather than drains us. Because of our passion for our careers, we have even more energy for each other and for our family.
It feels like a miracle.
I flip the steaks, enjoying the sound of sizzling as they hit the metal grill rack. With a hiss, steam rises up into the air.
Within a few minutes, they’re cooked to perfection, and I place them on a plate that Valerie has delivered. I set the platter of meat on the table, then walk over to the sandbox.
“Want to show Grammy how you mow the lawn?” I ask Dylan.
He’s in a floppy, white sunhat which keeps falling over his eyes. Valerie hasn’t lessened up on her sun-protection policies. I laugh, watching him pull the hat up out of his face.
When I scoop him up, out of the sand, I feel how much he’s grown. He’s getting to be a big boy. He’s in the ninetieth percentile for weight and height, and his pediatrician thinks he’s going to be tall, just like me. I’d like that.
I place him down on the grass, right behind the little toy push mower that I bought him for his birthday. He reaches his chubby arms out and grasps the red plastic handle. I let go of my hold on him, and Valerie’s mother claps as Dylan holds himself upright.
“He’s mowing the lawn!” she cries, delighted. She whips out her phone and squats next to Dylan to take a few pictures.
“Oh, that’s not all,” I say. I step a few feet in front of the mower. “Come on, Dylan,” I say. “Walk to Daddy.”
On shaky, wobbly legs, Dylan takes a few jerky, awkward steps forward.
Valerie has stopped bustling around the table, and is now standing next to her mother.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Valerie says.
“He’s walking!” Valerie’s mother shouts gleefully.
“Come on, Dylan!” I smile, pat my knees, and open my arms up to encourage my son.
He’s grown so much. Now, when his eyes meet mine, I see a distinctive twinkle there, like he knows and understands all that is going on around him. His eyes no longer wander around him as though he’s overwhelmed to be in the world. He looks right at me. He is fully present.
I can’t want to watch him, from birthday to birthday, grow more and more into the man he’s going to become.
He takes a few more jerky steps forward, his little bare feet skimming the trimmed grass.
As he reaches me, he lets go of the lawnmower and gives it a little push. It rolls off to his side, and he’s standing completely on his own. He wobbles, and I know that he’s about to fall.
Before he loses his balance, I grab him around the waist and scoop him up. His face lights up. His smile creates two perfect dimples on his chubby cheeks.
“Dada!” he says, just as I’m holding him up in the air.
My eyebrows shoot up. I look over at Valerie.
She also has a look of shock on her face. “Did he just say—?”
“Dada! He said Dada!” My heart is soaring. I’m holding Dylan up in the air like a trophy. He’s beaming down at me, with a wide grin.
“Say it again, Dylan!” I say. He smiles, and begins babbling, making all of his usual nonsensical sounds. “Dada. Say dada,” I beg.
Valerie’s mom is snapping pictures of us, and I’m happy to know that this moment will be preserved for the rest of our lives. I bring Dylan in close to me and kiss his cheek. Valerie joins us, wrapping her arms around me as I kiss Dylan.
It seems impossible that this night could get any better. I feel so blissful right now, like I’m in heaven.
But I know that when I look at the photograph Valerie’s mom is taking, I’ll forever remember this moment as “the moment before…”
Because, though my world is blissful right now, it’s about to get even better.
Valerie
“I don’t know if I can eat another bite,” I say, placing my napkin down beside my plate.
“I always have room for cake,” my mom jokes.
Thinking about the chocolate cake that Garrett brought home from the bakery actually makes my mouth water a little bit. Maybe I do have room for one more bite.
The meal was delicious, and I feel so satisfied. I guess it won’t hurt to top off the perfect meal with a few bites of the delicious cake that Garrett’s just gone inside to get.
“That was delicious,” my mother says.
I have to agree. “Garrett is a grill master. I don’t know where he learned it, but he always manages to cook meat perfectly.”
I reach for the steak platter. There’s one steak left, and I move it to the side of the plate, making room for a few sides. I want to have a plate ready when Raul gets here.
The skinny, tough-on-the-outside but soft-on-the-inside teenager has captured my heart. I love him nearly as much as I love my own son, which says a lot. Once in a while, Garrett and I talk about the possibility of being foster parents, at some point in the future. We both like the idea. I think it probably will happen eventually, though we’re not going to rush things.
I glance over at Dylan and smile as I start dishing mashed potatoes onto the platter.
“There’s my big boy,” I say softly. “You liked your birthday dinner, too, didn’t you?”
Dylan coos and grins. He lifts his arms up and down, as though he’s flapping wings. He’s almost too big for his booster seat. We’re going to have to get a new one, soon.
My mom reaches across the table and wipes at Dylan’s face with a napkin. Dylan doesn’t seem to mind; he keeps grinning happily. He’s a very happy baby. I know that it has to do with how happy his parents are.
These days, I feel like I’m dreaming, sometimes. I’ve never felt so fulfilled, hopeful, and excited about life. I’ve never felt so abundant.
Now, in this beautiful yard, surrounded by the people I love, I don’t know what else I could possibly ask for or want. I can’t even imagine having more than I have right now.
I hear the door shut, and look up to see Garrett walking across the yard. He has a cake in his hands, with one candle lit on the top.
“Happy birthday to you…” he sings, walking towards us. His voice is deep, confident, and warm. I join in, and so does my mother. We’re all looking at Dylan as the song wraps up. “…Happy birthday to you.”
I clap my hands and Dylan mimics me, tapping his tiny palms together.
We all laugh. Garrett sets the cake down in the space that I’ve cleared away. It’s nearing seven in the evening, and because it’s still early spring, the sun has set low in the sky.
As Garrett lowers the cake down to the center of the table, a shiny light near the center of the cake catches my eye. The flame from the single candle, which is in the shape of a one, is dancing off of something metal, stuck into the icing. I lean closer to peer at the glistening, shimmering object.
“Cynthia,” Garrett says, addressing my mom. “I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. Would you give me your blessing?”
Garrett’s words have made my brain short out. I’ve barely been able to process what I’m seeing, stuck in the cake, as his words register.
I think my mother is just as stunned as I am. Her voice is shaky and quiet when she answers.
“Yes!” she says. “Oh, Garrett. Yes, of course! Ask her!”
I look at my mother, and see that tears are welling up in her eyes. She has one hand over her mouth.
I’m so stunned, I’ve barely moved. Garrett reaches for the ring. He folds it into a napkin and begins rubbing the icing off of it. I feel my own hands fly up to my mouth, mirroring my mother’s response. Dylan is flapping his arms happily against the sides of his booster seat.
I feel my whole body quaking as Garrett moves around the table towards me, still cleaning the ring. Then, when he’s right in front of me, he gets down on one knee. I swivel a little bit on the bench seat so that I’m facing him.
“Valerie, you’re my best friend. With you, I feel like anything is possible. My whole life changed the minute I
met you.”
My vision becomes blurry. I realize that tears are pooling up in my eyes. I wipe them away so that I can see him.
He’s wearing a black T-shirt that’s tight around his bulging biceps. His tanned, tattoo-covered arms are flexed as he holds up the ring. His deep eyes gaze into mine. I would never have guessed, when I saw Garrett walk into the bar on that first night that I met him, that we would ever end up here.
Now, looking at him on one knee before me, I feel amazed at what a miracle the last nearly two years have been. Dylan has brought me so much, including my relationship with Garrett. I feel my lip trembling. I’m so happy. So very, very happy. I glance over at my son, and then at my mom. My mother nods.
I look back to Garrett.
“I love you, Valerie,” Garrett says. The ring sparkles in his hand.
He continues. “I love you, and I want to tell you that every day, for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me, Valerie Brown? Will you be my wife?”
It’s hard to breathe. My chest rises and falls as I suck air in and exhale it out. I sputter a bit, uncontrollably. Tears are now streaming down my face.
I manage to stand, somehow, and I feel myself smile through my tears.
“Yes,” I say. It comes out as a whisper. “Yes!” I say, louder. I can barely believe this is happening.
My mother starts clapping. Garrett slides the diamond engagement ring over my left ring finger. It fits perfectly. I feel his strong arms wrap around me, and then, we’re kissing.
Garrett and I have shared many, many wonderful kisses.
Hundreds. Thousands, even.
But this one is, without a doubt, our best kiss yet.
The End
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Hot Pursuit
Time for a tease!
Up next is the first chapter of Hot Pursuit, another book in my spicy new series, Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL
Secret Daddy Surprise - A Secret Baby Romance (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 4) Page 15
