by June Gray
“That’s impressive.”
I noticed Kari arriving so I twisted around in my seat and waved her over. “You look so nice,” I said, noting that she had taken the time to curl her long brown hair and was actually wearing makeup, not that she really needed it. Kari was one of those effortlessly attractive women, with her Swedish side lending her incredible bone structure and her Salvadoran side giving her beautiful caramel skin and dark features. I’d asked once why she always downplayed her looks. “Because I’d rather be regarded for my work than for my appearance,” she’d replied.
Now, looking at her in her tight jeans and slinky tank top, it appeared that, for the time being at least, she was ready to be regarded for something other than work.
“Henry, meet my partner in crime, Kari,” I said, motioning to her.
“Well, technically you’re my boss,” Kari said, shaking Henry’s hand then taking the stool next to mine.
I tossed a dismissive wave in the air. “I see you more as my right-hand man.”
Kari’s eyes flashed with amusement as she gave Henry a pointed once-over with one eyebrow raised. “Now I see why your left hand is always so busy . . .”
Henry laughed. “In any event, thank you for helping with the tree.”
“No problem,” she said then winked. “Thanks for helping me out of a future speeding ticket.” She twisted on her barstool and turned her attention elsewhere, to the Irishman in a black sweater across the room.
I leaned across and whispered to her, “You’re trying to get laid, aren’t you?”
She turned to me with wagging eyebrows. “Laid across his knees? Definitely.”
“Wouldn’t it be such a surprise if he was actually just vanilla?”
She rubbed her hands together. “All the better. I’d mold him into my perfect Dom.” She looked around the room and gasped. “Okay, who the hell is that?”
I followed her gaze and found her staring at a mountain of a guy with curly black hair down to his shoulders and a dark beard. “That’s Julian, Conor’s friend,” I said. “He came by the office last week, don’t you remember?”
She shook her head. “I think I’d remember someone who could make my ovaries explode.”
“Maybe you’d gone home already.” I nudged her in the side. “So go talk to him.”
“Hello, have you met me? I’m Kari, all bark and no bite,” she said keeping her eyes trained on Julian in his thin, gray shirt, his sleeves pushed up to reveal black tattoos swirling down one arm.
“Hello, have you seen you?” I asked. “You just have to walk by him and his ovaries will explode.”
“What if he’s a total dillhole? I don’t want to ruin the fantasy,” she said. “Or worse, he could have a high-pitched, nasally voice. Can you imagine him saying my name in that voice? Kaaari.”
I placed a palm on her back and pushed her off the stool. “Then put a ball gag in his mouth. Just go.”
She took one last gulp of liquid courage and, with one more fortifying intake of breath, walked off.
I turned back to my husband, who was having a conversation about hops with the bartender, and gave him a peck on the cheek, glad that I was done with the dating scene and the uncertainty that came with it.
—
A little while later after a trip to the bathroom, I came upon Henry talking with a group of people, that ridiculous Santa hat still on his head. I watched him from several feet away, admiring his utter confidence, the way he stood tall and relaxed as if he had easy command of the entire room. He had a way of talking to people as if he was genuinely interested in what they had to say, and when he smiled, I noticed Shelly, one of the junior designers, sigh a little. I couldn’t blame her. Some days I still found myself struck that this beautiful man was now my husband.
“So that’s the guy who changed your name,” a voice whispered much too close to my ear.
I spun around and away, my heart thumping in my chest. “You scared me, Conor.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned, setting off those deep dimples in his cheeks. Judging from the slight droop of his eyelids he’d had a few too many trips to Darius’s corner of the room. “Sorry,” he said, looking anything but. “I just never pictured you with a man that . . . wholesome,” he said, his eyes watching me closely, but whatever reaction he was looking for, I gave him nothing. “Put some glasses on him and he could be Clark Kent.”
I glanced at Henry. “Sure. Why not.”
Conor cleared his throat. “I just wanted to thank you for all of your hard work the past few months. The Go Big execs are thrilled. They are already reporting huge sales through the website.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for giving me and my team the opportunity to prove ourselves.”
He held out a white envelope. “Here, I wanted to give you your Christmas bonus personally.”
I looked inside and found a check with way too many numbers. “Wow, thank you. That’s very generous.”
“Nothing you don’t deserve.” He fixed that intense stare on my face. “I’ve enjoyed working with you.”
“You too,” I said uncomfortably. I started to walk away when he said, “Would you like to dance?”
I glanced across the room. “I’d rather not.”
“Why not? Are you afraid of me?”
I took a deep breath. “No, but I’m married.”
“Dancing with another male is not considered cheating, you know,” he said. “Besides, your husband is right there. He can see everything.”
“That’s precisely why I wouldn’t do it.”
“But you would dance with me if he weren’t in attendance?” Conor asked with a teasing grin.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Conor held up his hands. “Relax. I’m just teasing.” Suddenly, he looked over my shoulder and gave a friendly nod before turning away.
“Everything okay?”
I spun around to face my husband, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah, fine.”
He looked toward the bar, where Conor was ordering another drink. “He has a thing for you, doesn’t he?”
I sputtered at Henry’s words but I couldn’t deny them. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I took a peek at Henry’s face, afraid of what I’d see there. “You’re not worried, are you?”
His face was a picture of serenity as he gathered me close to his body. “No,” he said simply, swaying with the music.
I gaped up at him. Was this the same man who’d been furious with himself a year ago because I’d dated and slept with another guy? “Really?”
He cupped the sides of my neck with his hands, his thumbs rubbing along my jaw. “No man can take you away from me.”
A little surprised by his overabundance of confidence, I said, “Oh, is that right?”
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the side of my neck, lingering to nibble at my earlobe. “That’s right. You’re mine. And if anyone tries to steal you away, I will shank a bitch.”
I burst out laughing, remembering my words from what seemed like a lifetime ago. “And what would you do if I told you that I’d spent every night having sex with him for the past few weeks?”
He grinned with a dark expression. “Then I’d have to punish you. Perhaps lay you across my knees and spank you for telling lies.”
“Like you could.” I smacked him on the arm, frustrated that I couldn’t break through his confident facade. “Just once I’d like to see you get jealous.”
All amusement slid off his face. “No, you don’t. And I hope you never give me a reason to be.” He kissed me then, taking no notice of anyone else in the room, tilting my head up to deepen the contact. “I trust you, Elsie,” he said, his lips brushing lightly across the length of my jaw.
Only later did I realize that he was not so unshakable, that his actions, however
innocent they seemed at the time, had branded me in the eyes of everyone at that party, letting all know that I was completely and utterly spoken for.
4
From a faraway place, I heard Henry’s voice. “Merry Christmas,” he said and I felt the tickle of his scruff on my neck as he nuzzled into me. I stretched, enjoying the sweet spot between realms, when the magic of dreams spills over a little into the real world. In that perfect moment, the entire planet was quiet and in complete harmony.
We made slow love that morning, in that sleepy state when it’s hard to be sure you’re not just dreaming the sensations, but the orgasms were real and so too was the man who put my pleasure above his own.
A few hours later, when we finally untangled ourselves, I pulled on a T-shirt and yoga pants and retrieved the cordless phone.
“You needed to get dressed to talk on the phone?” Henry teased, sitting up with a yawn and grabbing his laptop.
“Do you talk to your parents on the phone naked?” I asked as I dialed.
“I don’t talk to my parents at all.”
My mom answered after three rings, leaving me no time to dwell on Henry’s words. I wished her—and my dad, who joined on the other line—a merry Christmas and apologized for not coming home for the holidays.
“Oh, we completely understand, honey,” my mom said. “You have your own traditions to start.”
“Tell Henry congratulations on his graduation,” Dad said. “I’m proud of that boy.”
“That’s Officer Boy in a month,” I said, grinning when Henry looked up. We chatted for nearly half an hour before we said good-bye. I hung up and held out the phone.
“What?” Henry asked, looking as if I was handing him a turd.
“Your turn.”
“Um, no. We don’t do that in our family.”
I shook the phone. “Come on, Henry. If you want to fix this rift, then it’s clear you need to make the first move.”
“How many first moves do I need to make?”
“Just call them, please. It’s Christmas,” I said. “At the very least to find out if they are going to come to your graduation.”
He sighed through his nose but took the phone anyway.
While he dialed, I padded downstairs, eager to put my Christmas gift to use. I turned on the single-serve coffeemaker—the fancy kind that used pods—and slid a cup underneath, excited at the prospect of never having to buy or empty coffee filters again.
When I came back upstairs with two mugs in hand, I found Henry staring hard at the computer with the phone lying on my pillow.
“What did they say?” I asked, handing him his favorite Air Force mug.
“They’re not coming.”
“Oh.”
“Mom’s got a big case she’s working on and Dad apparently is trying to land this one job for the municipality.”
His facial features were in neutral, but I knew Henry better than anyone, better than himself sometimes. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be. I’m not surprised. The real surprise would have been if they’d said they were coming.” He looked over at me and gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Els. Really.”
“It’s not fine,” I said, unable to quell the frustration, wishing I could shake some sense into his parents. “They ought to see what their son has accomplished. You’re one of the top three cadets, for crying out loud. You’ve been offered a job at the highly competitive Denver PD. I don’t know what else would impress them enough to get their asses out here. If you were elected president, would they be too busy to attend the inauguration?”
He set the laptop aside and took my face in his hands. “It’s okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Simmer down.”
I huffed, doubly angry that he’d dealt with it for so long that their indifference no longer fazed him. Henry worked his ass off for the past twenty-seven weeks; he deserved to have someone there for him, someone who would be proud of the man he’d become.
Struck with an idea, I took the phone and headed out of the room.
“Where are you going?” he called out.
“I’m just making a quick call,” I said, heading to the office. I shut the door behind me and started dialing, having already decided on what I was going to spend my Christmas bonus money.
A while later, I came back to find Henry still playing on the computer. He looked up when I entered the bedroom. “Where did you go?”
“I was just making some calls,” I said casually.
“To?”
“A few other people.” I went into the closet and retrieved my gift, hoping it would redirect his curiosity. I handed Henry the large package and he ripped into it with the enthusiasm of a child.
Inside was a large shadow box with black velvet backing. I had arranged his medals, ribbons, unit patches, and coins around a portrait of him standing in front of the American flag in his dress blues.
He stared at it for a long time, his gaze landing on every piece of his history, reminders of his past life as an officer in the Air Force. He took a deep breath before looking up at me. “Thank you. This is . . . awesome.”
“You’re welcome. It took me forever to find all of those things. You’re not the best at organization.” I sat beside him as we looked at the frame again, at the handsome officer in the photograph, his smile still untouched by death and loss. If only I could go back in time and tell that fresh-faced young man that despite the loss he will suffer—his best friend, his girl, his sense of self—he will fight back and find a way to make his life right again.
But if he had known that back then we might not be here today. Sometimes the past is better off left untouched.
—
The day of Henry’s graduation arrived. I woke up early out of excitement and retrieved a box I’d hidden in my sock drawer. I’d bought it for Christmas but decided that his graduation was a more apt time to give him the gift. I pulled the object out and wrapped my fingers around it, breathing a prayer into it.
I stood over Henry and looked at his naked form through the early light of day, his arms flung over his head. His body was bare—save for the sheet that was strategically covering some parts—affording me the opportunity to study the effects of his workouts. Henry had always been muscular, but since separating from the military, he had lost a little definition and edge. The rigorous schedule of the past several months at the academy, plus the mandatory after-hours workouts, had once again sculpted his body back to glorious definition. Even his face showed the results as his cheeks seemed carved in, his square jaw more prominent.
My roving eyes caught on two thin white scars to the right of his stomach, each about an inch and a half long, but before I could bend down to study them, Henry said, “Pervert.”
I tore my eyes away from his muscular body and found him watching me with a sleepy grin.
“But you’re welcome to keep looking,” he said as he slowly pulled the sheet away from his crotch, revealing his growing erection.
I crawled on the bed and straddled him, resting the heat of my sex right on him. “We don’t have time for that,” I said, even as I rocked on him a little for torture.
His nostrils flared as he sat up, grabbing me around the waist. “There’s always time for that.”
I evaded his lips. “I have to give you something.”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced down between us.
“No, not that.” I held out my open palm to reveal a silver oval medallion with a relief of Saint Michael—patron saint of law enforcement—on the front. “I have a small graduation gift for you.” I lifted it by the chain and pulled it over his head, the medallion coming to rest neatly in the ridge between his pecs. The necklace looked at home there, a fitting successor to his dog tags.
“Thank you,” he said, studying the medallion.
“You�
��ll need someone to watch over you when I’m not there.” I pressed my palm over the oval piece of silver and over his heart, trying to keep from thinking about the reason why he’d need a saint’s protection in the first place.
“Els,” he said gently, and it was then that I realized my fingers were trembling. He lifted my hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss on each fingertip. “I’ll be okay.”
I nodded and pushed away all negative thoughts in my head. This was Henry’s graduation day. In a week, he’d be starting his new job as a patrol officer at the Denver Police Department. Today was the culmination of several months of hard work; it was a time for celebration, not despair. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?” I asked. “I wish your parents could see you now.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “You’re the only person I need with me today.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight, smothering my secret smile against his skin.
—
I left the house early that morning, telling Henry that I needed to run a few errands and I would just meet him at the auditorium. My errands involved going to the airport, but he didn’t need to know that.
And so it was that at fifteen minutes before the ceremony began, I led the way into the auditorium and found seats close to the center aisle. We didn’t have to wait long. Soon after, my guests and I stood up along with the rest of the assembled crowd—all of us nervous with anticipation—when the doors opened.
The silence in the room was thick with pride and deference as the cadets marched in and took their seats on the stage. Henry passed by, flashing me a quick look, then doing a rapid double take when he saw who I had brought with me.
A little hand tugged on my shirt. “Do you think he saw us?” my nephew, Will, whispered.
I winked at him then smiled at his mother and my own parents, all of whom had flown in just for the ceremony. “He did.”
The cadets stood still as stone—their spines erect, one hand by their heads in a salute, chins held high—while the flags were brought in.
