Stuffed: A Thanksgiving Romance

by Jessica Gadziala

It wasn't that I was miraculously unafraid.

  He didn't have a magic healing dick that took away all my trepidation and insecurity.

  But he had sat up with me late into the night, talking. I talked about college, as did he. We discussed my family, his friends, his work. We talked about stupid, daily nonsense.

  And the thing was... it was like no time had passed.

  You'd have thought we had spoken every day for the past six years, instead of not seeing each other at all.

  It was effortless.

  We fell right back into old habits.

  And, fact of the matter was, he was right. We had grown up together. We already knew all the good and bad and ugly and ridiculous about each other. While there were things we still had to learn, things that had changed, that had changed about us with time, we were both still the same people for the most part.

  So while I was nervous as was possible to be about completely uprooting my life, of going back home, of starting a new job, about navigating a new relationship, I knew I had a strong support system. Even if things went completely to hell, I would have my mother and father and brother for support. That was a kind of comfort I hadn't known since I was a teenager.

  I was taking a chance.

  But it was time.

  I had always played it so safe. I had been smart. I did everything by the book.

  But it was someone else's book.

  It was time for me to write my own.

  "This one is weird. Who names a book 2006?" he asked, moving to flip it open.

  My heart stopped beating right then and there.

  Because it wasn't a book; it was a journal. It was my journal from when I was fourteen. From when I first really understood my feelings for Adam. Coincidentally, it was also the same year that I learned how to give myself an orgasm. And there was maybe some detail about some of the fantasies I had had about him while doing so.

  "Oh, is this..." he started, flipping open the first page.

  "No!" I shrieked, flying, positively flying across the small space of my living room, my sock-clad feet making me slide fully into his body as I reached for the journal. "No. Stop. This isn't funny. Give me it."

  "Give me it, huh?" he asked, smiling wickedly as he pulled the book out of my reach. "I like the sound of that. You'll be saying that later."

  "Adam, please give me that back. That's private."

  "Come on, I just want to see if I am in there."

  "You are," I confirmed, jumping and grabbing the book, using every bit of strength in my body to rip it from him.

  "Did you draw our names in arrow hearts?" he asked, clearly amused, but I was narrowly avoiding a genuine heart attack over the whole thing.

  "Yes, I did. And, no, I'm not going to show you."

  "What else is in there? Did you write poetry about me?"

  Okay. I had tried. I was going through an E. E. Cummings phase and I had tried my hand at it. It had turned out almost hilariously bad.

  "Yes," I said, cheeks flaming.

  "What did you compare my eyes to?" he asked, enjoying himself way too much.

  Emeralds.

  It was emeralds.

  Never mind that his eyes were light green.

  "You know... I used to love The Diary of Anne Frank. Now if she knew that school children were reading her personal words about her vagina, I bet she would have been completely beside herself embarrassed."

  "Alright, alright," he said, shaking his head, reaching for me. "I was just teasing you, Cal. I wouldn't read your childhood journal. Though I would pay good money to hear that poem. Did it rhyme?" he asked, pulling me against his chest.

  "Badly," I admitted, shaking my head at myself as I put my arms around him, dropping the journal into the box in the process.

  "You totally did a Risky Business slide trying to get that journal away from me."

  "That book has some very long, gushing pages about you in it."

  "Gushing?" he asked, brow raising.

  "I was fourteen. Fourteen year olds are notoriously long-winded and dramatic. Besides, I was in love. And fourteen year old girls in love..." I said, trailing off with a hand wave.

  "Ten years," he said, shaking his head. "Got a lot of time to make up for," he added, his arm releasing my hip and his hand sliding between us.

  "We already did some catching up this morning," I said, knowing we were never going to get any packing done at this rate and he only had a couple days off work.

  "That wasn't catching up. That was present-day sex. And by my account, we have... let's see. You were legal six years ago. Let's say we average once a day, which, well, is conservative. Six times three-hundred and sixty-five is..."

  "Two-thousand, one-hundred and ninety."

  "Show off," he said, digging his fingers into my hip and making me let out a small squeal. "But, yeah, we have a lot of work ahead of us. And I, for one, would like to get started," he said, ducking his head so his lips met my neck as he pressed my hips into his, making his hardness push into my belly.

  So then we got to catching up, that day taking the number down to two-thousand, one-hundred and eighty-seven.

  EPILOGUE

  Adam- 1 month

  She refused to spend the first night at my house, claiming with wide eyes that her parents would know exactly why she was there. I smiled at that, at the fact that, having moved away young and stayed away, she had never had to go through the awkward phase of every adult when their parents knew they were having sex with a partner.

  We moved all her stuff into her old room and the living space then we all went out to dinner, Cory included. After which she had given me a very brotherly hug goodnight in the parking lot that even her mother couldn't help shaking her head at.

  And, well, I wasn't letting her get away with that.

  I grabbed her arm as she turned to walk away, pulling her back toward me as one of my hands went behind her head just a second before my lips crushed down on hers.

  I kissed her until she swayed completely against me, pulling back to see her hazy eyes and her swollen lips. "That's how you say goodnight to me, Pip."

  The next night, her mother had encouraged her to come over to my place, claiming they were having company who would likely be staying late, then telling her to pack a small overnight bag.

  Which she did, I imagined blushing the whole time.

  I grabbed her cup of tea and my coffee off the counter and moved through the house. The house that she had already pinned a ton of design ideas for. "You know, I mean... if you needed any help. They're just, um, some ideas that are historically accurate."

  She wasn't aware, but saying things like that showed me she was a mix of hopeful about a future with me, but nervous about my seriousness about it.

  She had no idea how serious I was about her.

  If I hadn't already been sure about her when I shoved a load of moving boxes into my car and drove down to D.C., I sure as hell was certain when I saw her again. When I watched her realize I had feelings for her too, when she saw how easily we clicked, even after all the years.

  "Tea?" I asked, walking into the library which, it went without saying, was her favorite room.

  She was in the chaise with an oatmeal-colored blanket she had brought over with her one night for just this purpose, always running just a little cold. Albus was underneath the chaise, swatting at the edge of the blanket with his little black paws. Her hair was piled on top of her head, a few tendrils loose around her face. She had yoga pants and a long-sleeve Harry Potter tee on.

  I liked that too.

  She didn't do that shit that some women did when things were new. She didn't wake up early to put on makeup so I thought she looked like a Photoshopped model first thing in the morning. She didn't dress up and always make sure her panties matched her bra.

  No. She was the Callie I always knew, just in a different location.

  And I found I really liked that.

  I liked that she knew she didn't have to change
for me.

  She held up a hand in the air, eyes still completely focused on the book open on her leg, making it clear she had no intention in engaging me in conversation.

  I handed her the tea and smiled, turning to move back into the hall.

  My eyes fell on the shelf, as they always did.

  It started with one book.

  She always had a book on her and when she finished it, she had put it on my shelf, likely her lifelong dream of having a library making her do it. Then two days later, another book joined it. And then another. Then suddenly, R2-D2 was there too.

  The shelf was full.

  And I knew she would just continue onto another. She was settling in. Some of her clothes were in my closet. Her nerdy tea mugs were in my cabinet, as was a giant supply of tea and agave. There was a supply of potato chips in the pantry. But, aside from the day before her interview at the publishing house, she hadn't needed to reach for them.

  Whether she realized it or not, she was slowly but surely moving in. And I was okay with not pushing the issue. It would happen eventually.

  I loved her all my life.

  And I had to wait twenty-four years for her to be mine.

  I could be patient for a couple more months to have her stuff all over the house.

  Callie- 1 year

  We were sitting at the dining room table, everyone too full to move. Thanksgiving was even better when I wasn't stressing about my job or having to fly in, or worrying about seeing Adam again and that I might make a fool of myself in front of him.

  I made a fool of myself in front of him daily, every day for about a year.

  Every. Darn. Day.

  But that was just how it was. I was clumsy and nerdy and tended to ramble about strange topics. Luckily for me, he found it charming. The freak.

  I couldn't say I ever got used to having him. Every day felt fresh and exciting and borderline unbelievable. I had the man of my dreams, the guy I had loved since I was a kid still.

  And he loved me back.

  There wasn't a better feeling in the world than loving someone with everything inside you and knowing they loved you in return.

  So much had changed in a year.

  I wasn't in a job I hated anymore. In fact, I woke up in the morning excited to go because I knew there was a never ending supply of amazing, undiscovered gems that I got to read, give the author thoughts on, then watch as it went to print and made another persons' dreams come true.

  I wasn't living alone in an apartment in a city I didn't particularly care for with no boyfriend and no family and no real close friends either.

  I was in my hometown, living in my absolute dream house with my dream man, a short car ride from my entire family, with a whole group of bookwormy friends I had met through work.

  Life was, well, it was perfect.

  "Honey," my mom said, snapping me out of my daydream, "can you hand me that wine glass?" she asked, her eyes bright and active, though I had no clue why.

  I turned away, grabbed the glass to the side of me, then went to turn back when I heard a clinking noise, looking down and seeing something inside the glass.

  "What is..." I started, looking closer and seeing a ring.

  I thought it was my mom's and tipped the cup to let it fall into my hand.

  It was right about then that I realized Adam was no longer on the seat next to me.

  No, he was kneeling on the ground beside me.

  My lips slid apart as I looked back at the ring.

  His hand reached out, taking the ring from me and pulling my hand out to slide it on my ring finger.

  "I love you, Pip. I always have. I always will," his voice was deep with feeling and I felt my heart swell in my chest, my eyes getting just a little bit misty at realizing I was going to marry the love of my life. "Even if you compared my eyes to emeralds," he added, making me let out a snorting laugh, swatting at my eyes.

  For his birthday, after months of nagging, I had copied down and given him the poem from my journal. He had accepted it and had the grace to not tease me about it. For... all of a day. Then I never heard the end of it.

  "Marry me," he half-demanded, half-asked.

  "Alright fine," I said, sniffling slightly. "But just so you know, I am marrying you for the library," I said with a smile that he returned.

  "I love you, Pip."

  "I love you too."

  XX

  DON'T FORGET

  If you enjoyed this book, go ahead and hop onto Goodreads or Amazon and tell me your favorite parts. You can also spread the word by recommending the book to friends or sending digital copies that can be received via kindle or kindle app on any device.

  ALSO BY JESSICA GADZIALA

  The Henchmen MC

  Reign

  Cash

  Wolf

  Repo

  Duke

  The Savages

  Monster

  Killer

  Savior

  Stars Landing

  What The Heart Needs

  What The Heart Wants

  What The Heart Finds

  What The Heart Knows

  The Stars Landing Deviant

  Other

  DEBT

  For A Good Time, Call...

  Dissent

  Shane

  The Sex Surrogate

  Dr. Chase Hudson

  Into The Green

  Dark Mysteries

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jessica Gadziala is a full-time writer, parrot enthusiast, and coffee drinker from New Jersey. She enjoys short rides to the book store, sad songs, and cold weather.

  She is very active on Goodreads, Facebook, as well as her personal groups on those sites. Join in. She's friendly.

  STALK HER

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  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JessicaGadziala/

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  Goodreads Group: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/177944-jessica-gadziala-books-and-bullsh

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  <3/ Jessica