by R. C. Martin
I know the feeling.
“I miss him, too, Frankie.” I kiss the top of her head as I pick up the discarded device. Geoffrey and Louie are waiting patiently on the other end, and I wrap my arm around Frankie, holding her close as I smile at a couple of my favorite men. “Hi, guys.”
“Hey,” they reply in unison. It makes me chuckle. They really are the perfect pair.
Geoffrey met Louie at an art exhibition that he and Andy attended about three years ago. Louie was one of the artists in attendance. My favorite part of their story is the part where Geoff was raving about a piece to Andy, insisting that if the price wasn’t twice the amount of his mortgage, he would buy it in a heartbeat. That’s when Louie stepped in and made him an offer. He said he’d give him the canvas if Geoff agreed to go to dinner with him.
They were married a year later.
If Geoffrey is built like a Viking, which he totally still is, Louie is like a French model. I swear, he’s way nicer than one would imagine any man who looks like that would be. Geoffrey certainly found his Jude, and every time I see them, it makes me happy to see them so content and in love. It’s also comforting to know that my bestie has someone to ogle Ryan Gosling with on the regular, since I’m so far away.
We chat with each other for about a half an hour, until Frankie starts to squirm impatiently, complaining that she’s hungry and in need of a snack. After we say our goodbyes, Frankie clings to my neck as I carry her to the kitchen.
“What should we have for snack, hmm?” I ask, running my hand over her long, dark locks.
“Grapes?” she asks hopefully.
“Oh, that’s a good idea. I think we’ve got some grapes. Mommy can cut some up for you.”
She wiggles in excitement, making me laugh. Then she asks, “When I’m done with my snack, daddy will be home?”
“I don’t think so, honey. Daddy won’t be home until tonight.” Her excitement wanes, and as we enter the kitchen, I kiss her cheek comfortingly. Jude has been out of town for a week now. She did okay without him for about the first two days; then, with each day that follows, the rate at which she asks for him has increased more and more.
Francesca and I have a wonderful relationship. We always have, and I know in my heart that we always will. She’s my little miracle, and I love her more than life itself. It wasn’t easy bringing her into this world, but I’d endure every second of my pregnancy all over again if it meant I’d get Frankie.
The most amazing part about my daughter is that she’s more than just my daughter. We’re kindred spirits. Our love for one man binds us together in ways that no one else will ever fully understand. And while we each love him differently, our need for him is like a bonding agent. I know that she’s too young to comprehend it, but I do—and I know she feels it, too.
Judah doesn’t travel without us often, but every once in a while it’s necessary. When he’s gone, Frankie doesn’t always handle it well. Other mother’s have asked me if her bias toward her father makes me jealous—but my answer is always the same. Never have I been jealous of her relationship with Judah. She’s a daddy’s girl through and through, and I love it. To know that I was able to give him a child, someone who adores him the way Frankie does…I’ll never be able to describe how much that means to me. Not ever. Not to mention, I can’t blame her for being so attached. Judah—the real Judah, the man whose heart is revealed in the intimacy of his role of husband and daddy—he’s amazing.
“I have an idea,” I tell her, tickling her belly in an attempt to cheer her up.
She giggles, batting away my hand.
“How about we eat a snack and then do something fun? Having fun makes time go faster! Then we’ll have lunch and take a nap. After you wake up, it’ll almost be time for daddy to be home.”
“Can we go swimming?”
I smile at her, my little fish, and then nod. “We can get in the pool.”
She wiggles in excitement again. I swear, she’d be in the water all day every day if we let her. She’s scared the shit out of me a couple times, somehow finding her way into the backyard when she gets it in her mind that it’s time to swim. She knows not to get into the water without us, but even ten feet away from the side of the pool is too close when she’s all alone.
With her still in my arms, I head for the fridge in search of grapes, pulling the bag out of the fruit bin. I then sit Frankie down on top of the island counter so I can watch her watch me wash and slice her grapes. She chats with me about which bathing suit she thinks she should wear in the pool, and then she proceeds to tell me which bathing suit I should wear in the pool, too.
It doesn’t take me long to finish preparing her snack, and we relocate to the kitchen table, where she gets buckled into her booster seat. It’s a gorgeous day out, and while she eats, I gaze out over the view from where I sit. The back side of the main level of our house is mostly windows. We’re situated up on a hill, our view—day or night—absolutely breathtaking. Even after all these years, I still get lost in it. We’re a little bit of a ways from the beach, but I can see the ocean from here, and that’s certainly nothing to scoff about.
“Okay, mommy. All done!”
“Good girl. Let’s go get changed.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, our security system chimes as the front door opens and closes. Frankie and I both freeze, looking at each other with our matching eyes. My heartbeat speeds up, knowing that only one person has a key to our front door—the man I wasn’t expecting until this evening.
“Hello? Anybody home?” his deep voice bellows.
Frankie gasps, making me giggle before I whisper, “Look who made a liar out of me. Daddy’s home!”
“Daddy!” she screams.
I’m quick to unbuckle her from her chair, helping her to the floor before I watch her go flying toward the front door, her hair the dark cape that trails behind her. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face even if I tried—which I don’t. My husband is home, and I’m right on my little girl’s heels, anxious to see him.
I set my bags down when I hear her small feet come running. As she rounds the corner, I squat low and wait for her to come crashing into me.
“Daddy!” she squeals, throwing her arms around my neck. She squeezes me as tight as her little arms can manage, and I hold her against my chest as I return to my full height.
“Hi, sweetie,” I murmur, burying my nose in her hair.
I inhale her scent, fully aware of just how much I’ve missed it.
“Don’t go away anymore,” she demands.
“I won’t go away for a while,” I promise, holding her a little closer.
I usually don’t leave my girls for so long, and this trip reminded me why.
“I told her you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I thought you didn’t get in until after five,” says Teddy, drawing my attention to the mouth of our entryway—and then to her mouth.
I crook my finger at her, beckoning her toward me, and she comes without delay. As soon as she’s in reaching distance, I slide my hand around the back of her neck, burying my fingers in her hair before I lean down and kiss her firmly.
“I wanted to come home,” I mutter, kissing her once more. “I switched my flight.”
“I’m glad you did. We missed you,” she says, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“I missed you.”
I lean down to kiss her one more time, Frankie still clinging to my neck. As I pull away from my wife, she smiles at me before she reaches up to run her fingers along my stubble-covered jaw.
“Haven’t seen this in a while.”
I smirk at her in reply, thinking back over my weekend. Since Friday, I’ve been going non-stop, tying up loose ends on an important business transaction back at the home office. I neglected to shave, thinking I would get around to it before I flew home. This morning, I had been too preoccupied with arranging another flight to worry about a shave, and after over forty-eight hours without the razor, I’m sporting a healthy shadow.
>
I got rid of it when Francesca was born. She didn’t like the way it felt against her face—but I loved her face, loved the way her soft, newborn skin felt against my lips, so I did what any sane man would do and shaved it off. Now, she kisses and touches my face so often, I try to keep it clean.
“Daddy!” Frankie gasps, popping her head up to look into my eyes.
“What is it, sweetie?” I ask, my gaze admiring the features I haven’t seen in too long.
She inherited Teddy’s freckles; however, with my skin complexion, hers are a little darker. Sometimes I swear she gets a new one everyday—my beautiful girl. Her eyes are the exact same brown as her mother’s, and they’re big and expressive, surrounded by her long, dark lashes. She’s got my nose and my lips, and while she and I have the same color hair, hers is long and wavy, like Teddy’s. Every time I look at her, I know I’m going to have to break dicks over her.
“Me and mommy are—”
“Mommy and I,” I correct, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear.
“Oops,” she says shyly, covering her mouth with both of her hands.
“It’s okay, Frankie. Go on. Tell me what you and mommy are doing.”
“Mommy and I are going to go swimming,” she proclaims, reaching her hands out to touch my face. “Will you come?”
“Sure.”
She scrunches her nose before she asks, “Why does your face hurt? Are you going to be like Uncle Louie?”
Teddy laughs, propping her head against my shoulder, and the sound makes Frankie smile. She likes to make us laugh and she’s always quite proud of herself when she accomplishes such a feat without even trying.
“Is my face prickly?”
“Yeah,” she says with a nod, rubbing her hands up and down the length of my jaw. “It’s really prickly.”
“You don’t like it?”
“It hurts my hands,” she replies, shaking her head at me.
“I’ll shave it off tomorrow. I have to keep it for today, though. I think mommy likes it. Deal?”
“Okay.” She claps her hands together, finished with her perusal of my face. “Now we go swimming?”
“Yes,” I say, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “We can go swimming now.”
She wiggles in excitement and I set her down on her feet. She doesn’t waste a second before heading for the stairs, hurrying her way to her bedroom. Teddy starts to follow after her, but I stop her, grabbing hold of her waist from behind. I pull her back against me, bringing my lips to her ear.
“Wear the purple string bikini I like.”
“Okay,” she breathes, arching her back as she presses her ass against my crotch.
“Mommy!” Frankie yells before I can get in another word.
Teddy twists her neck, tilting her head up as she looks at me with a coy smile. “Welcome home.” She pushes herself up on her tiptoes and kisses my chin before she pulls away from me, heading for the stairs. “Coming, baby.”
I watch her ass until she disappears from sight and then I grab my bags and follow after my girls. Fifteen minutes later, we’re all in the pool. I’m playing with Frankie while Teddy lays stretched out in her floating pool chair. She looks fucking gorgeous—her hair piled on top of her head, her skin on display for me to see. I mutter a curse under my breath every time my lingering stare causes my dick to rise. After a week, I’m a man deprived, and it’s been too long since I’ve claimed what is mine. Nevertheless, I know I won’t be able to have her until later.
Naptime will come soon enough.
“Daddy, watch me!”
Obediently, I return my gaze to my daughter, watching as she kicks her little legs wildly, closing the distance between us. I praise her for her efforts and she beams at me before she insists that I watch her do it again. Amazingly enough, I could watch her for hours and it wouldn’t bore me. For years, the thought of kids was completely unappealing to me. Honestly, it still is—but Frankie is different. Frankie isn’t just some kid, she’s mine, and I love her in ways I never thought possible.
“Are you watching?!” she squeals, her back to me as she makes her way to the side of the pool. My girl is going to compete one day—and she’ll kick ass in the water, I’m sure of it.
“I’m watching, sweetie. Can you swim back to daddy?”
“Yeah!” she replies, turning herself around. “Here I come!”
I watch Judah play with Francesca for an hour, adoring every moment before I sneak inside to throw something together for lunch. I’m still no master chef in the kitchen, but I’ve learned quite a bit since I first moved in with Judah. Today, I just put together a couple sandwiches, grabbing some goldfish and a sippy-cup full of water for my sweet girl.
We picnic by the pool before I insist that we’ve had enough time out in the sun. Frankie whines, a tell tale sign that she’s ready for a nap, and Judah takes her inside for a quick bath. I offer to help, but after he settles her into a shallow bit of water, he changes into something dry and tells me he’ll be back to bathe me as soon as he gets her down. With that in mind, I throw on my thin cover up and head to my office to answer a few emails.
When Jude first showed me this house, I thought he was crazy. Two stories, six spacious rooms, and four and a half bathrooms seemed a bit much. I told him we needed more space, but I wasn’t birthing an army—just one little girl. It was beautiful, though—the architecture made up of modern, sleek lines. It screamed Judah, and I could see why he loved it. Then he told me how he planned to change the inside…
He knocked out a room and built me a closet bigger than the one we shared in Colorado. Our bathroom is almost just as spacious, and complete with the most gigantic tub. He kept Frankie’s room the way it was, decorating it beautifully in teal and peach hues. She, too, has her own bathroom, which has come in handy over the last couple of years. Then, the third upstairs bedroom was turned into a gym. It’s not nearly as big as the one he had in our old house, but he’s never complained.
On the main level, he set up the two extra rooms as an office for each of us. At first, I thought it silly that we each had our own. I couldn’t fathom why I would need an office, but Judah was dreaming big for me and he insisted that I have it. Now, I’m so grateful that he did. Owning my own business is a reality that I never thought I’d step into, but I love it.
Wishing to kill a little time while I wait for Judah, I settle myself behind my computer to check my email. Before I know it, forty minutes have passed, and I realize I haven’t heard any sounds coming from upstairs. I decide to go check on things and make my way to Frankie’s room. What I find sends me straight back to my office to grab my camera.
Judah is slouched in the overstuffed armchair that sits in the corner of our little girl’s room. The book he must have been reading to her is still open in one hand, while his other arm is draped around her as she lays cuddled against his chest. They’re both sleeping, creating an array of images I must capture.
This—this is what Judah always saw in me, my desire to grab hold of a moment for posterity. I always said that it was just a hobby, but both Judah and Francesca made me realize that it’s so much more than that. It always has been. It always will be.
After Frankie was born, I was taking her picture all the time. She is our miracle, and Judah and I both knew that it’s possible that we might not ever have another child again. I didn’t want to take a moment of her life for granted. As I started editing and developing the images of our daughter, I realized that not everyone is capable of capturing a moment like I can. At first, I doubted myself, thinking that offering my services to parents of newborns was somehow arrogant—but Judah pushed me to start up my business, photographing babies—and it’s been such a joy and a pleasure to be able to share my gift in such a special way.
When I’ve taken a few pictures of my little family, I leave them to sleep while I go upload the images onto my computer. I will admit that I’m a little disappointed that Jude fell asleep before our promised alone time. How
ever, something tells me that his nap will work in my favor later, so I won’t complain.
I spend the rest of the afternoon editing the photos of the two loves of my life. As I work, I’m reminded that I am blessed beyond belief. I have more than I could have ever thought to ask for—the result of loving such a generous God. My friends, my family, my work, they all mean so much to me. But above all else, my husband and my daughter are my world. I’ll never be able to thank Him enough for them.
My forever.
My miracle.
It isn’t until after I wake up from my nap that I realize the consequences of falling asleep. For the rest of the day, my dick aches—longing for my woman. Everything she does turns me on.
When she bends over to pick up a toy.
When she reaches into the pantry for a box of pasta.
When she sips her glass of wine at dinner.
I’ve got a fucking semi all night, each minute that passes more unbearable then the last. I’m relieved when Frankie doesn’t insist that I be the one to put her down for the night. No way in hell would that have gone over well. My patience is nil, and as much as I love that little girl, hearing her beg for one more bedtime story would have been the death of me.
Now, as I sit on the edge of the bed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, it’s all I can do to focus on my phone. I try checking emails while I wait to hear my bedroom door open and close, but I can’t focus. When Teddy finally enters the room, I toss my phone onto the nightstand before I’m on my feet. As she makes her way toward me, I go from half-mast to fully erect in an instant. She smiles at me shyly, resting her hands against my chest when she reaches me.
Fuck—I missed my shy girl.
“She’s out like a light,” Teddy murmurs, sliding her hands up and over my shoulders. “How about that shower?”
I growl, reaching down to grab the back of her thighs, hoisting her up around my hips. She giggles, wrapping her arms around me as I carry her into the bathroom. I don’t even bother taking off her clothes before stepping into the shower and turning on the water.
