by DL White
I slipped into the bathroom to wash my face, take off my jewelry and pull my hair behind a thick headband, then changed out of my comfortable jeans and blouse into even more comfortable leggings and a long Albany State t-shirt. I left the bedroom and headed down the hall where I could either go to the kitchen or to the living room.
I chose the living room, just to look at the tree. I adjusted the stockings hanging from the fireplace — there was even one for the dog. My eyes floated over the collection of holiday cards we’d received from friends and family, including Faith and Anthony, and Jay and Celeste, who were making a tenuous effort at reconciliation.
My heart warmed at the festive trinkets that Will and I had picked out together, and the sprinkles of holiday cheer that I hadn’t thought twice about setting out, filling out the space.
Behind me, ice clinked into a glass and I heard the familiar sounds of Will mixing a drink. I reached behind the tree to flip the switch to turn on the lights — the small pearl bulbs on the tree, the multi-colored lights around the windows in the living room and the two beaded angels at either end of the fireplace. Those were my parents, watching over me.
“How was Faith?” Will asked, handing me a glass. I took it, sipping a little of the Amaretto Sour that he had perfected to my taste.
“Ready for vacation so she can hang out in her own kitchen. And she’s mad at you.”
“Me?” Will dropped onto the couch, lifting his feet up onto the ottoman, as was his habit. He set his drink on a coaster on the table in front of him and patted the cushion next to him. I did, curling my body into him. “Why’s Faith mad at me?”
“Because you haven’t talked Anthony into taking her to an island for the holidays. So she’s mad at you.”
Will laughed. I enjoyed hearing the sound through his chest and my ears. “I don’t have anything to do with the Thomas household. Anthony’s gotta work that out for himself. Did y'all talk about the menu for Christmas?”
“Mmmhmm. She’s making her famous prime rib—”
“With the horseradish cream,” he said, wistful. I practically heard him lick his lips.
“Yep, her tradition. Plus the usual sides — potatoes, something green, homemade rolls. And that macaroni and cheese you liked last year. She said to tell you she’s using smoked gouda this year.”
“I’m already hungry for Christmas dinner. But I liked something else better than the macaroni and cheese.” He closed his arms around me, making sure that a hand traveled a wide swath across my thigh to my backside.
“You flirt,” I told him, giggling.
“Only for you. You’re a little older than me, you know. You might go find an old man to be with.”
“Three and a half years is nothing. Besides, I’ve been with an old man. Your grandmother is right. A new broom does sweep well. So well.”
“I feel like that’s a dig against my brother. And since we’re still deep into sibling rivalry, I’ll consider that a win. We just won’t tell him.”
“That wouldn’t be awkward at all.” I gulped down a swallow from my glass before setting it on a coaster. “But he’d need to unpack that in therapy. And then wax on about it at every opportunity.”
“He’s making excellent progress, though. Let’s not make too much fun.”
“You’re right. I’m in therapy, too, so I shouldn’t joke about it. But I don’t put everyone through the experience of me going to therapy.”
“Mmm.” He hummed, his lips brushing against my temple. I knew he wanted to ask how it was going, how I was feeling. We had agreed that I didn't have to talk about it, but from time to time I shared small things with him.
I’d told him about the night my mother came to me in a dream. It was relatively soon after I’d met Will and things were going well — so well it scared me. We had a good, long mother-daughter talk.
Will said if I thought my mother came to me, she must have. I wanted to think — it gave me comfort to believe it, but my therapist helped me understand that it was more likely that my mind was telling me it was time to move ahead. Maybe I was waiting on a sign that said I could smile again. It was okay to be happy.
That I was still here. That I could live my life.
“I was going to help you with dinner. I thought you were elbow deep up a chicken’s ass?”
Will laughed into the air, his head cocked back. “You like that line. Prep didn’t take long at all. I just put my dry rub on the chicken. Had to get it all up on the inside, too. Then I set it on a can of beer and put it in the oven. I thought we’d have some artichokes—”
“Wait.” I blinked, confused. “You did what with a beer?”
He smirked, his brows knit together. “You’ve never had beer can chicken? We had it all the time, growing up. Dad made it on the grill, but I’ve perfected it for the oven. I had a taste for it. Had to buy a can of beer specifically to make it. You’ll like it.”
“There’s not much I don’t like, in the way of food, if you’re making it. Actually…” I stretched to press my lips to his in a warm kiss. “There’s not much I don’t like if it has anything to do with you.”
“The feeling is very, very mutual, baby.”
Coco trotted down the hall and leapt up onto the couch, into Will’s lap. She loved me, but she loved Will and she was a jealous little dog. She made her way into the room if she heard the slightest hint of a kiss.
“Including your dog.”
“I told you she was a brat.” He lifted her and set her on the couch, then tapped my hip. “You can help me with the vegetables, though. We need to chop and slice.”
“I think we can call Beer Can Chicken a hit.”
Will’s eyes dropped to my plate, which held a leg and thigh bone that had been picked clean, remnants of steamed artichokes with hollandaise sauce and scant evidence that I’d been served a generous helping of roasted broccoli-cauliflower mix.
“You think? Did you leave anything on the bone, babe?”
“Nope. And I ate all of my vegetables.”
“That you did. I’m proud that I make vegetables that you’ll eat.”
Will got up, reaching for my plate. I playfully smacked his hand. “I’ll get the dishes. You know what this is — you cook, I clean.”
“But you helped cook…”
“I chopped broccoli and cauliflower, Will. Hardly any effort at all. You did the heavy lifting. Sit.”
I grabbed his plate and mine, shoveling what we left of our dinner plates into the garbage compactor, then placed the plates and silverware in the dishwasher. Will was a neat cook. He washed as he went, put away spices and utensils after he used them. I didn’t mind cleaning up after him when he hardly made a mess at all.
The nights I cooked… well, I tried. Will didn’t complain when he had to clean up after me.
In a few minutes, I had put away the leftovers, put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher, wiped down the counters and stove and swept the floor. The dishwasher hummed quietly.
Will was in the living room, where he lounged with his feet up on the ottoman, flipping through the recent issue of The Financial Times. Coco perched in his lap like a queen on her throne.
“Someone’s comfortable,” I commented, scratching her behind the ear. “I think I’m going to run myself a bubble bath and relax, read a little.”
“You sure? I can—”
“I’m sure. Faith dragged me to nine stores today. Nine. I’m a little sore. Maybe later on we can uhmmm… stretch.” I gave Will a wink, then laughed because he was the one always winking at me.
“I can definitely stretch some things for you.” Will grinned, his tongue swiping his bottom lip as he gave my backside a tap. “Go. Enjoy your bath. I’ll meet you in bed.”
I must have been tired. One minute I was sinking into a piping hot, bubbly, jasmine scented bath and resting my neck on a rolled-up terrycloth towel. The last thing I remembered thinking was how peaceful and happy I’d been lately. Unbelievably happy. But instead of bei
ng afraid that it was going to be taken from me, I was excited. I sensed… something. Something on the horizon. I remembered sinking into the tub, my mind on those happy, expectant thoughts.
The next moment, Will was bent over me, shaking me awake. “You’re gonna get all pruny and wrinkly. And not that I wouldn’t still love you, but I don’t want you to get all pruny and wrinkly.”
I sat up, yawning and stretching my limbs. Then smiled as I watched Will pull the plug in the tub and grab a fresh bath sheet from a stack in the linen closet. He opened it and stepped back, waiting for me to get out of the tub, then wrapped it around me.
“Come on, sleepy. Let’s see if we can get in some stretches before you fall asleep on me.”
“That nap might be just what I needed, you know.” I laid across the bed on my stomach. Will and I had a funny little ritual where he liked to apply my body butter after a bath. “I don’t feel all that sleepy right now.”
“Is that right?” I felt Will’s weight on the bed, and then his lips skittering across my skin. Goosebumps rose in waves.
8
I clung to Will, my arms wrapped tightly around him, my legs locked around his torso. The steady thumps of the bed against the wall and the matching rhythmic sound of skin against skin was heady and erotic. I wanted — needed to climax, but I also never wanted him to stop.
His body writhed with long, hard strokes until I couldn’t take it anymore. My back arched as I convulsed and I let out a peal of loud, pleasured moans. A few moments later, his voice chorused with mine.
I panted into the air, trying to catch my breath. Will had collapsed on top of me, still inside me, his mouth laying little suction kisses on whatever skin he could get to. When he attempted to pull out and roll away, I gripped him with my legs so he couldn’t move.
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Yeah. Don’t move. I might be in the mood for some more in a minute.”
He chuckled. “You’re gonna wear me out. Or is that the point?”
“Nah,” I answered, then finished with a snort. “Just taking advantage of this new broom situation.”
“My pleasure, then.”
Deciding that he wasn’t going to move soon, he settled his body weight onto mine and bent his head to kiss me. “I love you, Saidah. Way more than I ever thought I could love a person.”
An eyebrow lifted. “More than Coco, even?”
“More than Coco, even. I’m sure she’s real upset about that, too.”
As if on cue, I heard a light scratch-scratch at the door and the whine of a spoiled Bichon Frise on the other side of the bedroom door. If we didn’t lock her out, sex was… interesting.
“I love you too, Will,” I murmured softly, stretching up to kiss him. “Even if I have to compete with the dog.”
He moaned through another kiss, then rested his forehead against mine. Pensive, he opened his mouth, then closed it.
“What?” I prodded.
“I uh… I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been kind of… well, waiting until I felt like the time was right.”
“Oh?” I unlocked my legs and sat up. This sounded serious, not a conversation one should have while intimately joined. Will sat up, then flipped the comforter back, the warmth of the room making short work of the sweat glistening on his body.
“Let me… I’ll be right back.”
He hopped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, coming back moments later to slip into his side of the bed. I sat up on my side, rod straight. Something about the serious tone he’d used put me on edge.
“Don’t let me down easy. Just say whatever it is.”
“Babe… relax. It’s not anything bad. We’re okay.”
The sigh of relief that I let out was so loud, it made him laugh. Then he felt bad about laughing, so he rolled his lips inward and tried to bring his face to a neutral expression.
“I uh… I mean, we’ve talked, for the past few months, about things we wanted to accomplish, either on our own or together. It’s been a great year, hasn’t it?”
I nodded in agreement. The year had been great. I had taken on a new role at the school. Outside of the children I usually worked with, I now had a small, dedicated group of students for one-on-one study and guidance. It meant more work, but I found it rewarding to see them grow with just a little of attention. And over the summer, I had been placed in charge of coordinating volunteers at the Children’s Nursery. I still read to them, but now I could encourage others to do the same.
“The business has grown so much in the last year,” Will was saying. “That Panola Road project put us on the map. I’ve become a much better salesman. We’ve got projects going nonstop. We’ve had to hire a few people, subcontract some others. And I moved in with a beautiful woman that I fell in love with.”
He smiled, glancing at me like I could miss that bit of sucking up. “I feel like I’m in a place where… well, I’m happy. But I’m looking forward to more. I want more, and I want more with you. I guess I wanted to get a pulse check. See how you’re feeling about things. About us, about… life.”
I almost laughed aloud.
Life was like night and day since I’d met him, almost a year to the day ago.
He’d called the next day, just like he promised he would. He took me to a Speakeasy. It happened to be a spoken word night, so we listened to authors and poets read their work for the small but lively crowd. We had drinks and talked. And then went for coffee and dessert and talked. And when I’d called him to let him know I got home safely, we ended up talking most of the night.
When I thought I was all talked out, that this man couldn’t possibly find anything interesting about this broken woman he’d met on Christmas Day… he’d call and we’d talk more. About everything. About nothing. About important things. About stupid things.
Before I knew it, a few months had gone by and I was falling in love. And terrified of it. The fear was irrational, and I knew it, but I couldn’t help it. I’d lost people I’d loved. I didn’t think I could take it, if something happened and I lost him, too.
I almost pushed him away. Almost. Instead, I picked up a phone and made an appointment.
Therapy was rough at first, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Baring my soul, exposing my vulnerabilities felt impossible. That wall I’d built around myself, around my heart? I was so afraid to tear it down. And I had so much guilt to work through — about the accident, about living after my parents were gone.
After I got used to talking to Dr. Sawyer, it got easier. It wasn’t like I was cured or healed overnight, but I didn’t cut things off with Will. The thing I was most afraid of — losing him — didn't happen. Our relationship got better.
And better.
I knew what he was asking, though. Was I still scared?
Did I still want to take things impossibly slow, so I didn’t get hurt?
Was I far enough along in my progress to see past the next few days, the next few weeks, the next few months with him?
And the big question... was I ready to risk my heart again? To commit to taking vows, seriously. For better or worse? Richer or poorer?
I reached out for him, placing my hands on his chest, pushing until he was on his back, shoulders pressed against the mattress. Then I hiked a leg over him and straddled his waist.
“I think... life is pretty damned amazing, thanks in some part to you. My life is completely different from it had been for a long time. I’m grateful to be where I am. Where we are. I’m right where I want to be, Will. If it’s okay with you, I want to stay here forever.”
His hands roved my body, around the curve of each generous cheek before moving to the junction of my thighs. The tip of a finger dipped into my core, collecting wetness before circling and stroking, stirring me up again.
“That’s fine with me,” he mumbled, his eyes flicking up to mine. I bent to capture his lips in a slow, sensuous kiss while his fingers worked their magic. “That’s… jus
t fine with me.”
9
“Ready for this?”
Will put the car in park and glanced over at me. He smiled, except his smile was devilish and made me laugh. He knew I was nervous and already had one foot out of the door. I was ready to bolt if Jay was the slightest bit disagreeable.
“I guess. Do we need to set up a signal? So if something happens and we have to leave, you’ll know?”
“How about you just say let’s go and we’ll walk out.”
I sucked my teeth, then gathered the straps of my purse. “Smart ass. He’s not ruining two holidays in a row.”
“He didn’t ruin last year, though,” said Will, leaning over the armrest to nip my ear. “Not for me. And not completely for you. Right?”
“Right. But you know what I mean—”
“Yes, I know what you mean. I’ve got your back. I’m not afraid to knock a sucka out for disrespecting my woman, even if he is my brother.” He reached for the door latch, saying, “Let’s go in. We’re already late.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Well, it wasn’t my idea to spend the whole morning in bed.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess that is my fault.”
I leaned over to kiss him, my lips lingering on a moment longer than usual. I had wanted this year to begin the exact opposite of how last year began. No sadness, no melancholy, no dearth of holiday joy and gratefulness for all that had come to me throughout the year. And I wanted to take advantage of having someone with me to ring in the season. Mission accomplished.
I got out, then waited for Will to grab the wine and gifts from the back seat and meet me in front of the car. Then I tucked my arm into his and we walked up the driveway and the front walk.
The bright red door swung open as soon as we reached the landing. Anthony stood in the opening, Avery perched on his hip in a pretty, bright red dress and white stockings.
“Merry Christmas,” he called out, offering his free hand to Will to shake, then wrapped the same arm around my shoulder as I passed him into the house. “If this dinner sucks,” he muttered in my ear, “we’re all running away.”
