Prickles come up and down my arm. It’s starting. My dream is starting. “Could you give me your information? Your phone number” I ask.
She pauses for a moment, her eyes not focusing. I almost want to wave my hand in front of her face. Then she recovers. “Yes. Yes, here you go.” She pulls out the airsick bag and writes down her phone number and email. I do the same, and I promise to send her my YouTube links.
My spine gets shivers. She smiles and goes back to sleep. But I can’t.
We land in New York City, and it’s a testament to how much I want to see Kim Brown that I don’t step foot in this classic American city except for the airport. But I’ll have time for that later. I can’t live another moment without Kim.
As I board the smaller flight for Iowa, my resolve grows and grows. I post a picture of a JFK airport sign. After going through customs and immigration, I proceed to my gate, where I take a picture showing my destination is Des Moines.
I’m a complete bundle of nerves. I’m here in the United States with every Euro I have, a free flight from a friend, and a hope that the love of my life will talk to me when I get there.
When the plane lands, they can’t turn off the “fasten seatbelt” sign quickly enough. I’m up, grabbing my backpack and out before I can do anything. I need to get my bag from the baggage claim, then arrange for an Uber or Lyft or whatever and find my way to her house. I’m so glad I have her address from her initial email.
Joder. That’s a lot to do.
As I step out of the security area into the baggage claim, people mill about. The conveyor belts are stopped.
And there is Kim, holding a little name card that says “DE LA GUERRA.”
Twenty-Four
Kim - Instagram
“Tavo,” I cry, my voice breaking. “You’re really here?”
For a moment, he stands still, his hand poised midair, not processing what’s happening.
I’m not processing that he’s here, either.
My tall, strong Spaniard with his kind, thoughtful eyes and mop of hair. He’s a dirty dream and a beautiful vision. Real and more than real.
Waking up from his momentary stupor, he walks over to me warily and pauses, leaning his head to the side.
A tear rolls down my face and I nod. He reaches down, wraps his arms around me, and holds me to him so tight, his warm, strong arms enveloping me with comfort. A comfort I’ve been missing since the last time we were together in Spain.
A comfort I may have been missing my whole life.
He buries his nose in my neck. I’ve never had anyone hold me like that, at least not since I was a baby.
He shudders against my torso, and I know he’s sobbing. “Kim. You saw. You knew.”
“I knew.” And I burst out crying. Snotty, ugly crying. I thought I’d be cried out, but I was wrong. Tavo’s not repelled by my emotions. He’s holding me anyway, like it doesn’t matter that I’m not perfect. That I made a mistake. Or we made mistakes. That we both did something that didn’t turn out just right. It doesn’t matter what happened to us or what we did.
All that matters is that he sees me right now. And he holds me when I need to be held.
“I can’t live without you, amor. I can’t.”
“Me either,” I sniffle.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he says against my hair.
“I know. I absolutely know,” I say, my sobs still shuddering.
“You saw my posts?”
“Yes. I love your posts.”
I love you. I trust you.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says, and he pulls away. His eyes are red with tears and exhaustion. I’m sure mine are the same.
“I’m here. I’m really here. Let’s talk.”
He lets out his breath. “Kim, I’m sorr—”
“No.” I cut him off. “I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m the one who believed what I saw, not what I felt. I’m the one who needed space to think. But I knew it underneath it all. I knew we needed to be together.”
His face relaxes in relief.
“I should have believed what I knew in my core was the truth. Not something conscious or what anyone said.”
“It is. It is.” He’s examining me, as if he can’t believe I’m really in front of him. The noise goes on around us at the airport, and we don’t move. We just stand while announcements are called on the PA system and taxis honk outside.
There’s no way he can’t feel how fast my heart is beating. The shortness of breath. The pulsing in my veins and roar in my ears.
“Gustavo.” I pick at my lip, then face him straight. Eyes on his. “I love you so much I don’t even know how to tell you. I love your earnestness. I love your giving nature. I love you, and if I have to live without you, I’d be living a half life. I never want to let you go.”
He almost collapses in relief and reaches for me. Holding me again. “Te quiero, Kim Brown. I love you. Te amo. In whatever language, you have my heart, my soul, my everything—”
“Tavo,” I murmur against his chest.
“Let me say this plainly, Kim. I have fallen in love with you. I love the way you twitch your nose when you’re thinking. I love the way you are enthusiastic about everything. I love the way you ignite under my touch—even when I’ve barely touched you. I love the way we are together. We complete each other. You’re the part of me that was missing. You lived so far away but you were part of me. And we need to be together.” He squeezes me. “No matter what. I will love you until my dying breath. And longer if I can.”
Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a little box, and rubs the back of his neck. “This isn’t a ring, Kim. I thought you had too many of those. And not yet. But you needed this from me.”
I open up the box, and there’s a delicate bracelet with a dragonfly charm, green and blue. He puts it on my wrist with a kiss.
And we walk out of the airport holding hands, with his bag slung over his shoulder.
As we drive back to my house, I tell Tavo about Shane coming out. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. It was not my secret to tell.”
He smiles in relief. “I understand.”
“It bothers me, though. His secret was central to his being. So huge that keeping it meant that he was denying his true self. Does that make sense? It wasn’t just that he was keeping a secret about a surprise party. He wasn’t letting anyone see him truly because he was scared. By doing that, he couldn’t have the intense satisfaction of being loved for who he is.”
His eyes fall on my heavy coat while I’m driving. “I think that’s why we are so good together. We show each other the parts we’re scared to show someone else. And accept them.”
“Right.” I turn into my parents’ street, little nerves forming in my stomach. “Another thing is that with all the structure and rules and denying himself, he lived a small life. Maybe now that he’s broken free, he can live a limitless life. Like us.”
“Yes.”
“It’s real and messy and human.”
“But it’s our whole selves, amor. Not just dark. Not just light. Our whole selves.”
I park the car. “Here’s where I live. I told my parents that I am pregnant. I told them that I love you.”
“Did you tell your parents that I was coming here today?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. This will be interesting. Come and have Thanksgiving with us. It’s the one night my mom allows carbs in the house.”
For the most part, my parents behave. I figure the shock of me returning early from Spain with unicorn hair, my ex-boyfriend they’ve known all their lives coming out of the closet and dating our other best friend, telling them I wasn’t living by their rules anymore, and oh, I’m pregnant, might have been a wee bit much for anyone.
“Mom, Dad. This is Tavo. He’s the love of my life.”
My mother gazes at him, his beauty clearly overwhelming her. I mean, anyone can see how handsome he is. But he leans forward and kisses her on both ch
eeks, still smelling like his gorgeous self, and she swoons.
My mother.
Freaking.
Swoons.
I stifle a laugh.
He’s mine, Mom. No touchies.
After a few more times talking with them, they’ve come to a sort of peace with me. It’s uneasy, because my mom’s habit is to tell me what to do, but each time I push back, she does it less.
Right now, my dad shakes his hand. “I don’t understand what kind of name Tavo is.”
“It is a short name for Gustavo.” He shrugs. “Everyone calls me that.”
And somehow, with the ice broken, that evening we enjoy a Thanksgiving meal.
What I am most grateful for is that Tavo is with me. Mind, body, and spirit. Forever.
Later that night, while lying in my pink childhood bed, which now matches my hair, I run my hands through his hair. We talk about what happened. All the misunderstandings. How Sonia was behind all of it. How his mom is going to marry her dad. And how Guillermo has to learn for himself whether or not he wants to handle Sonia’s crazy.
“But Tavo, I think you weren’t telling me something. You kept something from me back in Spain.”
He pulls back, almost involuntarily. “What, amor?”
“That Sonia was as obsessed with you as she is.”
He shakes his head, very serious. “I didn’t realize. I jokingly called her a stalker, but I didn’t know she would go that far.” His eyes level with me. “I never wanted to marry her. But I didn’t realize how she really was.”
“Once I got back here, I figured that. Because it couldn’t be true. We spent so much time with each other. What we feel for each other? That’s the truth.”
“Right. It was never her.”
“Since I met you, I’ve been stuck on you, but it’s not just your rugged, perfect looks. After all, an ugly inside can make even the prettiest face unattractive.”
“Kim.” His finger traces my collarbone.
“You radiate a zest for life. But you’re courteous and sincere. You’re irresistible. You make me feel loved, safe, and secure.”
He tugs on my ear. “Yes—”
“Even though it’s new, our relationship is great. I can talk to you about anything.”
“Yes, guapa.”
“You don’t judge me.”
Those dark, soulful eyes explore mine. “Never.”
“We’ve been honest with each other about our issues. We both look at the world the same way, wanting to create our experience instead of having it created by other people. And we both live—and want to keep living—with passion and enthusiasm. The good and the bad.”
“I agree, amor.”
“Having a baby with you jolts us into a new reality, but I guess we’ll learn what to do as we go along.”
He kisses me. “Yes. Yes. All this. Yes, we will learn.”
“Sometimes, Tavo, the feelings I feel for you are too strong. I get worried that they’ll fizzle out.”
“They won’t.”
I sit up. “But how do you know that?”
“Because we have the chemistry. We have the fire in our bellies. And we help each other to be the best version of each other.”
“You kinda already are the best version of yourself,” I say.
“Oh, no. I’m just getting started. Wait until the world discovers my music.”
“Yeah.”
“We respect each other, ourselves, and our families. But we don’t change ourselves to be what they want us to be. And that is the difference.”
“Oh, and if the passion ever simmers?”
“Yeah?”
“I know a lot of ways we can rekindle it.”
Back in Spain a few days later (thank you Dani and Trent), I hold hands with Tavo after we step out of the car. He holds my bag and his in one hand. But I’m walking with him to his casita, not to the house.
I was worried about all the time I missed, but he called the school and arranged for me to make up work due to “illness.” And he made me an appointment for prenatal care in Granada.
After staying with my parents for a few days, they absolutely loved him. He’s so polite and courteous, how could they not? And we spent a lot of time with Shane and Randy, laughing and playing video games.
While I didn’t think that Iowa in November was much to see, Tavo was fascinated by all of it. Fascinated by our huge grocery stores and Costco. So even though I’d be bored to tears, he had eyes like cheese wheels, interested in everything.
He sent that music person links to his YouTube, and he got an open invitation to play in New York City any time he wanted.
But now back in Granada, I feel like I can breathe again. The mountains in the distance and the slant of light in this place feel like freedom. I love the olive trees. I love the history. I love how long civilization has been here, and how I’m going to continue it with this little baby in my belly.
And while Tavo and I have lots to talk about and keep talking, I know we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives.
Twenty-Five
Tavo - Sueño
A week later
* * *
I stand behind a naked Kim and pull my finger out of her mouth with a pop. She’s been sucking on it, and I’m hard, pressing my full erection against her back. I dab more oil on my hands and slowly send my oil-slick fingers down her front. Caressing her breasts, with my mouth on her neck, going down, down, down, aiming for her center.
“Time for your dream, amor,” I whisper, and she gets a grin on her face.
When I step away from her, she shivers, but she’s not cold. A crackling fire in the fireplace makes our candlelit room toasty. Her shoulders go up and down as she breathes.
I spread a white furry blanket from El Corte Inglés on my bed and take a feather out of the drawer, holding it up in front of her.
She wants to clap her hands with excitement, I can tell. She wants to move.
She doesn’t.
I take off my shirt, and while she doesn’t move, her eyes do. She checks me out. My jeans hang low on my hips, my bulge pressing against my zipper.
Then I pick up the scarf we bought in the Alcazar that had been folded in the dresser. I unfurl it, placing it on the bed.
Now she’s really trying not to wiggle.
As she stands, kneecaps popping, I prowl to her, holding the feather. And I grin. She averts her eyes, biting her lip. I begin tracing the tip of the feather on her skin.
Despacito.
Starting at the nape of her neck, and going down to her beautiful ass. She’s still trying not to move, but I can tell by the way she stands so poised and attentive, that she loves this.
“I love the parts of you that you don’t want to show,” I say in a low voice against her skin, making the thrill-bumps rise. “I love it that you like it when there’s a plan, but you don’t know it. I love that you like the mystery. I love the part of you that is a little messy.”
“Tavo,” she whispers.
“I want you to feel, guapa. I don’t want you to see. I don’t want you to think. I don’t want you to process. I just want you to let your body feel everything. Hold my hand and come to the bed. Lie on the white fur.”
Clambering up on the bed, showing me her glorious ass, she turns over, lying on her back, and nestles in.
She adores this.
“Feel the softness of the blanket. How does it feel against your skin?”
“This is what I always dreamed of. Ever since I met you, this is what I wanted to do,” she whispers.
“Is it too warm? Cold?”
“It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Arms up.” I hold out the scarf.
She scoots her legs up and down like she’s pedaling a bicycle. “Still. Be still.”
Nodding, she clamps her lips closed again, and holds her arms over her head. I take the scarf and wrap it once around my metal headboard, then wrap it around her wrists as many times as it will g
o.
Joder.
My love, naked, arched, oil-slick, and arms up just for me.
I love watching her breath in her belly. Knowing she’s breathing for two. I can’t see it yet, but I know my baby is in there. And I love it.
I love Kim.
Time for more oil.
I rub more of this year’s harvest between my fingers. It squishes between my palms as I warm it up, a very naughty sound. Unzipping my pants, I take them off gingerly, trying not to get them too messy, and stroke myself with my oil-slick hands as she watches.
“Fuck, yes,” she says, as she’s tied up willingly. “Love yourself, Tavo. Show me how much you feel.”
I grip myself, sliding my hands up my solid dick, gazing at her. Then I wink at her, find my cock ring in a drawer, and put it on.
Her eyes are huge.
“How does that feel?” she asks.
“Amazing. Look at what you do to me. Look at how much I want you.” I pump myself, then stride to the bed.
More oil. This is so messy. But so are we, and I love it.
I massage her feet and kiss her souls. I rub out the tension in her calves, one by one. I lick and kiss up her thighs. Her inner thighs. I find myself at her pussy, and pull up, putting myself in her.
Then I pull out and rub my dick against her clit. I aim for the right amount of pressure, enough that she can feel not only the piercing, but my spongy head, but it causes pleasure.
“Tavo. I love that.” Her arms remain helpless over her head, but she spreads her legs more, and I rub myself against her.
Then I can’t stop, and I slide into her. She hisses and her body bends.
“Yes,” she says. I lean forward and kiss her. I kiss her face. Suck on her lower lip. Suck on her neck. Kiss her decolletage. Suck on her nipples and make them pop.
And thrust. Keep thrusting. The cock ring making me steel-hard and frantic.
Sombra Page 28
