The Blessing

by Elizabeth Price

  “Dada,” he says as he pulls on my shirt, trying to get my attention. “Dada!”

  I finally pull away from Ronnie to look down at my distraught son, who’s now yanking vehemently on my shirt. “Dada!” He reaches up for me and I give him a small kiss on the forehead, which immediately appeases him.

  “We’ll be back soon,” I promise.

  As I leave the clothing section, I notice women who are blatantly staring at me. I wonder if it’s due to the fact I practically mauled my girlfriend in the middle of the store. The staring doesn’t stop as I leave the women’s clothing section. No, it continues as I make my way down the aisles until I finally reach the toys. There are a few women who are openly ogling me. They’re whispering to each other as they’ve abandoned their carts in the middle of the aisles. They’re attractive in a way—but would look much better if their faces hadn’t been so surgically enhanced. That shit has honestly always freaked me out. I’ve always liked the more natural looking women. Natural like my Ronnie.

  “That’s such a cute baby,” says the blonde with the most plastic looking face out of her entire group. “He looks so much like you,” she flirts. “Such a handsome little boy.”

  “Thanks,” I comment, taken completely off guard by her blatant flirting.

  “Do you need help finding anything? My friends and I can show you around if you’d like?”

  I give her an uneasy smile, looking around in hopes that my girlfriend would choose this moment to show up. “I’m good, actually. I’m just taking my son to look at the toys while my girlfriend shops.” I’ve got a girlfriend, so fuck off, is what my tone is screaming, but apparently that’s not obvious to this chick.

  “Well, your girlfriend shouldn’t leave a guy like you alone for too long.”

  “Yeah,” I say, curtly. “Well, it was nice talking to you,” I lie before continuing down the aisle of the toy section.

  “We’ll be right here, baby!” one of her bolder friends yells in my direction. Is this how women feel when they get cat called? Fuck, that must be terrible.

  I shake the unpleasant thoughts those women caused my mind to conjure up and focus on Grey—who starts kicking in my arms as soon as he sees the toys. I take a moment to enjoy the Star Wars action figures and Lego sets. I wonder if it’d be considered way too geeky for me to buy a Millennium Falcon Lego set for myself? The sensible part of me knows having a bunch of Lego pieces lying around wouldn’t be safe for a baby, and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Honestly, that’s the only thing that’s holding me back from indulging. I can’t wait until he’s older and can build these sorts of things with me. Sighing, I move on to the toys I know are deemed safe for his age.

  We pass a line of different rattles and bathroom toys, until we reach a mountain of stuffed animals. Grey lets out a squeal as soon as he sees a Winnie-the-Pooh bear that’s bigger than he is. He reaches for it and strings together a bunch of syllables. It must be his way of say, “Give me, daddy! Give me!”

  I pull the toy from the shelf and hold onto it, since it’s too big for my son to wrap his arms around. I select a couple more bath toys from the shelf before heading to the children’s book section. There’s some board books I remember from my childhood and a few more mature titles I know he’ll love as well. I pick a copy of The Giving Tree, one of my favorites as a boy despite how depressing it is, and then I choose several Dr. Seuss titles. Grey eyes the large green book in my left hand and points, as if to ask, “What’s that, daddy?”

  “This was one of your daddy’s favorite books when he was a kid.” It was one of Dean’s favorite books, as well. Our father would read this one to us all of the time.

  Grey pulls on the corner of the book’s cover, trying his best to open it. He’s so curious and I know, from his behavior, he wants me to read to him. I place the toys I was holding in my left arm on the shelf and open the book with my right hand while positioning Grey so he can see the pages from his spot in my arms. The book’s illustrations captivate his attention, but as soon as I begin to read the Shel Silverstein classic, his eyes are on me.

  Grey gives me a gummy smile, showing me his two small teeth, and wiggles in my right arm. I point to the artwork of the little boy with a crown of leaves as I read and Grey giggles, kicking his legs like he usually does when he’s excited about something.

  I hear the sound of someone approaching and I stop reading the story. I gaze up, expecting to find Ronnie, but instead I notice a woman who I’ve never seen before. She’s beautiful with chestnut brown hair and green eyes. She has a lovely face, with a few wrinkles that suggests she’s in her late forties. She seems familiar, but I can’t exactly put my finger on why.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she quickly apologizes. “I just heard you reading the story and got distracted,” she admits with a girlish laugh.

  She takes a step closer, but I don’t move back. The woman gazes down at Grey and her attractive face looks troubled suddenly.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She shakes her head and doesn’t look at me. “No, it’s nothing. How old is he?”

  “He’ll be a year old in January.”

  She nods and continues to stare at my son. Before I can question her about what she’s doing, she speaks again. “He just reminds me a bit of my son when he was a baby. He looked a lot like your son—in a way.” She smiles at the memory. “A full head of hair and big, bright eyes. The book you’re reading… I used to read that to my son all of the time when he was a newborn. It was his absolute favorite, as well as mine.”

  Ronnie comes down the aisle with a pile of clothing in her cart. She gives the woman next to us a kind smile and introduces herself. The woman suddenly looks embarrassed and backs away from us. She apologizes, before stepping back over to her cart and walking away.

  Ronnie looks as confused as I feel. “Who was that woman?” she asks as she helps me place our toys and books in the cart.

  I’m baffled. Although she seems familiar, I can’t—for the life of me—place her. “I’ve no idea.”

  chapter 22

  shine

  “Do you know where you’re taking her, Trevor?”

  This is the first time I’ve seen my dad since he told me the news of his impending divorce from my mother. He’s not as tired looking as he was. In fact, he looks well-rested and at ease as he sits across from me on the couch. The bags he had underneath his eyes have disappeared, and the color has returned to his face. He looks like my dad again and I’m glad to see it. I was so worried that, in her anger, my mother would drag him down with her. Realizing that I’m staring at him, I think back to his original question. Where the fuck am I going to take Ronnie? I want to impress her, but I also want tonight to be the best night of her life. We’ve seen and done just about everything Evergreen has to offer, so I was considering driving to Denver. Ronnie rarely goes there, despite the fact the drive is less than an hour.

  “I’m not sure, Dad.” God, do I feel young discussing my date with him. “I was thinking about driving into Denver.”

  “There’s a lot of great places there. Do you know what kind of food Ronnie prefers?”

  I’ve seen Ronnie eats lots of things but I’m not sure what her favorites are. Most of the time, she shops for groceries depending on her budgets and what’s on sale at King Soopers. “I’m not sure,” I finally say. “I was thinking about taking her someplace with a ‘romantic’ atmosphere.” To get her in the mood for later. I just want tonight to be as nice as possible.

  Dad stares at me for a long moment before a smirk appears on his face. “Trevor, you don’t have to be so nervous. She’s already your girlfriend, so you don’t need to worry about winning her over.”

  “It’s not that,” I mutter.

  “Oh.” Now Dad gives me a knowing grin. “So, tonight’s the night.”

  My face is quickly aghast and I look away. This is so fucking awkward. He doesn’t need to know I’m going to try to bang Ronnie tonight. I run my right hand nervous
ly through my hair, avoiding eye-contact at all costs. I don’t know what my problem is; it’s not like my dad believes I’m still a virgin or some shit like that. He knew I came home at odd hours of the morning during high school. Even though he turned a blind eye to my fucking around, it wasn’t like he didn’t know what was happening.

  “Go to Guard and Grace on California Street. I’m sure Ronnie will love it.”

  I smile, happy he’s not giving me any other type of advice. I thank him before heading out to my truck. I pause long enough to Google the restaurant’s number and call ahead to make a reservation for tonight. I want to have ample time to get home and clean-up. Quinton and Eden are keeping Grey for the evening. I’d feel strange leaving my son with a couple I’ve only known for a brief time but being Ronnie’s family, I know I can trust them implicitly. Besides, I gave them multiple ways to contact me in case of emergency. They laughed at how flustered I was, but I’ve never left him alone with someone other than his grandmother and Ronnie. As much as I love having the little guy around all the time, I didn’t need him crashing my date.

  I think about Ronnie on the short drive back to my apartment. Her beautiful face, the curves of her body, and her smile which lights up any room she enters. I allow my thoughts to drift further on the “ungentlemanly” side. Like when I got a the few glimpses of the sexy curve of her plump tits and the one time she bent over, completely unaware of how her dress rode up just enough for me to see her panties. I lick my lips at the thought and feel my cock start to throb against the zipper of my jeans as my imagination runs wild. I dream of what her voluptuous body must look like without any clothing. I bet it’s beautiful, creamy, and flawless. I can’t wait to get her naked and feast on her. When my erection begins to get uncomfortable, I direct my thoughts someplace a little tamer.

  I want tonight to be perfect, but I also don’t want to force Ronnie into doing anything she’s not comfortable with. As much as I want her in every possible way, I won’t force her into doing something she’s not ready for. I’ve never had a romantic relationship, so I have no idea how to time this shit. How soon is too soon? In pretty much all my past “experiences” with women, we rushed directly into sex. I never cared enough for any of them to take them on a date first, nor did they ask for anything from me. I was a whore, they were all easy sluts. Therefore, taking them out on a date first wouldn’t have really made a difference. We all wanted sex, why put a pretty bow on it and pretend it’s something it’s not?

  I’ve never felt ashamed of my past until I met Ronnie. Only then did I realize how fucking disgraceful it was. Even though I enjoyed myself at the time, if I’d known I’d meet such an incredible girl one day, I’d never would’ve fucked around with that many women. I’d take it all back if I could. My past makes me feel like a douchebag, and Ronnie deserves so much better than that. She deserves someone better than me. However, I’m who and what she wants. How strange and fucked up is that? Even now, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she wants me as much as I want her.

  Right when I get home, I jump straight in the shower. The images of her that played in my head on the ride home still have me riled up. Taking that into consideration—and the fact that I might have to behave tonight—I’ll need to get myself off at least once. I’ll behave tonight, or at least, until she tells me not to. My muscles relax under the hot water, which is welcomed after a day of feeling tense. I run a bar of soap over my body, imagining it was Ronnie’s hands doing it instead of mine. With her hands in mind, I trail my hand down my body until I’m gripping my throbbing cock. It doesn’t take long for me to find my release, especially since my sexy-ass girlfriend is the star of my fantasies. I come on the tiles of the shower wall and close my eyes as the euphoria washes over me. I wash my hair and rinse the suds off my body before stepping out of the shower, realizing if I spend any more time in the bathroom, Ronnie will be wondering where the fuck I am.

  As soon as I have a towel wrapped around my hips, I begin styling my hair. It doesn’t take long for the agitation to seep back in as my mind reels with all the possibilities of how I could fuck-up tonight. I don’t know why I’m so fucking antsy because Ronnie is, after all, my girlfriend. It’s not like she’ll dump me after one bad date, or at least, I don’t think she would. Putting this much effort into something makes me feel so exposed. If I actually try to achieve something, I might fail. I think if I disappoint Ronnie, the feeling of rejection will be more painful. Failure and rejection is inevitable when it comes to me. I’m so invested in her already, I know that if things don’t work out, it’s going to fucking gut me.

  After several attempts at trying to tame my unruly hair—which could definitely use a cut—and a thorough shaving off my five o’clock shadow, I decide this is as good as it’s going to get for tonight. I cleaned up fairly well and realize this is as “handsome” as I’m ever going to look. Unlike Dean, I’m not a fucking “pretty boy” by any stretch of the imagination. I’m certain I’m too rough to really be considered handsome. It’s not just the tattoos because people were shying away from me long before I had any ink. I suppose it could be my strong features and dark green eyes that cause people to keep their distance. That’s one reason I’m surprised Grey warmed up to me the way he did. And Ronnie, too, for that matter. Most girls just look at me as someone they want to fuck, not as someone to take home to their family.

  I take one final look in the mirror, running my finger over the scar that runs symmetrically over the corner of my left eyebrow. I smile as I remember earning that scar in a fist fight with Dean. It wasn’t anything too serious—but we were beating the shit out of each other. He punched me and his nails gouged into my skin deep enough to cut me, therefore causing the jagged scar. I’d forgotten about it because I rarely look at my reflection in the mirror. This must be the first time I noticed it since Dean’s death. It’s like a little piece of him is still with me. This scar is by far my favorite mark on my body. It’ll always remind me of him—as well as the masterpiece on my back.

  Noting the time, I hurry up and finish getting ready, knowing that if I don’t pick up Ronnie soon we’ll be late for our reservation. I throw on a black button up shirt and black slacks because I know the color puts all the focus on my tattoos. I roll up my sleeves and leave the top button of my shirt undone to show off the black and gray lotus flower I dropped a good chunk of money on a few years back. I’m hoping I look good enough for Ronnie. Although, I’m sure whatever I do, she’ll manage to outdo me completely.

  As soon as I cross the hall to “pick up” my date, all my suspicions are confirmed. Not a single person is going to look at me when I’ve got this fuck-hot woman on my arm. Ronnie looks absolutely incredible. I close my mouth to avoid looking like a complete imbecile because my jaw dropped open like a cartoon character as soon as she opened the door. Her black dress is so tight it fits her like a second skin. I want nothing more than to peel it off her and end the night before it’s begun. The dress makes her tits look amazing and her legs look a mile long. I can’t stop the dirty thoughts from running through my head as I gaze at her.

  “Do I look all right?” Ronnie asks with a nervous giggle.

  Is she being serious? I give her an incredulous look before assuring her, “You look sexy, baby. Very sexy.”

  She’s shy all of a sudden. I can’t fathom why; she’s beautiful inside and out. I reach for her hand and pull her out into the hallway, bringing her soft body against mine. Her curves rub against me in all the right ways and I feel my cock begin to harden in my pants again. I bring my lips down to meet hers and kiss her with a well contained passion. I know if I don’t keep myself under control, she’ll be on her back before she knows it. With what little cool I have left, I pull away and promise her “later” before ushering her down the hallway.

  We drive to the Guard and Grace in Denver with our windows down, letting the crisp, early fall air flow through the truck. It helps ease the sexual tension that’s building between us. Despit
e the cold air, I can feel the warmth radiating off her body and I wonder if she wants me as desperately as I want her. She turns her head and smiles at me and if I weren’t driving, I wouldn’t be able to look away from her. I take her hand and hold it over the console, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she sways along to the classic rock that’s softly playing through the speakers. I take a deep breath, wanting to remember this perfect moment. The cold air stings my lungs and a smile tugs on my lips as I realize this is the happiest I’ve ever been. I have a girl I’m in love with who wants to be with me and a son who’s my heart—the center of my universe. I don’t think my life could feel any fuller.

  As soon as we pull up street side in front of the steakhouse, my girl perks up in her seat. I can tell she’s impressed and I can’t help the smug smile that appears on my face. It feels fucking fantastic to know I made her happy. I lean across the console, intending to quickly kiss her—but the kiss lasts far longer than expected. If it weren’t for a horn blaring, we probably would’ve remained in the truck making out all night.

  “You go ahead,” I tell her with a smile. “Go wait inside and I’ll go park.”

  She kisses me one last time before sliding out of the truck and when the car behind me honks again, she flips him the bird before curtseying and continuing onto the restaurant. I smile as I watch her ass sway back and forth as she walks away before putting the car in drive and moving before the dickhead behind me has an aneurysm. I park on the street and hurry inside—not appreciating the chilly air without Ronnie at my side to warm me up. I can see the restaurant’s modern interior design from the street and it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s obvious—by the looks of it—that it’s going to be expensive, but I want to make this night a special one. I don’t really give a fuck how much it costs. I want my girl to feel like the princess she fucking is. I find her waiting by the hostess stand, gazing around the restaurant with wide eyes and an impressed smile.