56 Days (Black) (22 page)

He smiled at her and put his hands up.  “Ray, I didn’t know.  I promise.  He told me this morning.”

“Well, damn it,” she huffed.

Jack leaned into her and rubbed her on the back.  “It was
her
idea to wait,” he responded, pointing at me.  “If it were up to me, you guys would have been told before it even happened.”

Way to throw me under the bus, man.

“Jackie, I’m standing right here.”

“Oh, I know, El.  You deserve to be ostracized.”  He smiled at me.

“You blackballin’ me?  Then I guess you won’t get the pleasure of enjoying this
later,” I responded, shaking a Victoria’s Secret bag at him.

He left Rachel and stood at my side, placing a kiss on my cheek.  “I’m sorry, honey.  I don’t know what came over me.”

I punched him lightly in the gut.  “Nope.  Now I’m gonna save this for my next husband.”

He pressed his lips to mine, his tongue parting them as I clawed up the back of his shirt.

“God… not with the tongue, man,” Vince teased.

Jack pulled away slowly, planting small kisses on my face.  “I can make out with my wife if I want to.”

Rachel threw her hands up.  “This is ridiculous.  I can’t believe you got married.  I’m still pissed.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  “No you aren’t.  You’re just mad that you were out of the loop… and that you didn’t get to wear one of your million cocktail dresses.”

She groaned.  “Man, I had a good one too.”

“I know you did, honey,” I teased.

She shuffled her feet.  “So, can we at least celebrate now?  Champagne maybe?”

“It’s noon, Ray,” Vince replied, flipping through a magazine.

“So what?” she said, making her way to the kitchen.  She opened the refrigerator pulled out a bottle from the back.  “My baby sister got married.  We need to mark this occasion.  And to your brother, no less.”

“Can we take our champagne up to our room?” Jack asked her.

“Ew, Jack.  It’s noon.  And, no, you don’t get to make it with my sister in my house.  Gross.”

“Too late,” he clipped.

“I know.  Paper thin walls.  You guys are disgusting,” she teased.

She poured four glasses.  “Get up, Vince.” 

When everyone was standing at the kitchen island, she held her glass up.  We followed suit.  “To Elsa and Jack.  May they be very happy in their lives… I don’t say this often enough, sissy, but I love you.  I’m so happy for you.  Be good to each other.  So… cheers!”

“Salute,” Jack and Vince replied simultaneously.

I burrowed my forehead into Jack’s neck.  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“I have a toast too,” he said.  “Since Elsa agreed to marry me, things have never been better.  Well, except for that whole
Dave thing.”

Vince
choked on his champagne.  The night before, Jack and I had shared the story about Dave and Charlotte… the cd, the assault, the office visit, the police.  Everything.  Vince was completely engrossed in the details, asking more questions than the
actual
cops.  Rachel just sat there with her mouth open the whole time, punching him every once in a while when he got too inappropriate.

“As I was saying,” Jack continued, “I’ve never been happier.  A week ago, I received a little money from a furniture sale.  So… we’re going on a
real honeymoon.”

My mouth opened.  Besides going to Great America as kids with our parents, I had never been on a vacation.  “Where?” I squealed.

“Paris.”  He paused.  “For two weeks.”

I choked back a sob and covered my mouth with my hands.  “Oh my God,” I muffled.  “Seriously?”

“Oui,” he answered.

God, I loved him.

I fanned my face, trying to dry my impending tears.  “My God,” I repeated.

“It gets better,” he whispered.

“How?”

“I know a
furniture guy, Guillaume.  He lives in Montmartre for half the year.  He’ll be in the south for a few months, so he sent me the keys to his place.  It won’t cost us anything to stay.”

I looked over at Rachel.  She wiped back huge tears from her eyes.  “Holy shit,” she whispered.

I buried my face in Jack’s chest, breathing in his scent.  “I love you,” I whispered.

He tipped my chin with his thumb and forefinger.  “
I love you too… so much.  Pack your bags, honey.  I cleared everything with Gemma.  We leave this Tuesday.”

*
****

On
the morning of our flight, I was a total wreck.  I packed so much; I had to sit on my suitcase.  Paris?  For two weeks?  Come on.

“Babe,” Jack said, “You’re overweight.”

“What?” I snapped.

“Your bag.”

I breathed.  “Oh, yeah, I know.  I thought you were talking about me.”

Jack laughed.  “My mother taught me two things.  Never talk about a woman’s age or her weight.  Of course, you don’t have to worry about either.”

I stuck out my belly.  “I’ve gained five pounds since we’ve been together.”

“You’re sticking your stomach out.  Besides, I thought we were trying to knock you up.  You’re go
nna gain more than five.”

I groaned.  “We have sex like
twenty times a week right now.  I’m going to be huge and you won’t want to fuck me.”

Jack laughed.  “Elsa, listen.  I’m
always going to want to have sex with you.  We’ll just have to get more creative.  And don’t say ‘fuck.’  That’s my baby mama you’re talking about.”  He swatted me on the backside.  “Got your passport?”

I dug through my giant handbag.  “Got it.”

“Let’s go.”

Ten hours later, we were touching down on the City of Love.  I was wide awake and
taking in every second.

Somewhere along the
journey, Jack and I concluded that neither of us spoke much French.  He took a year in high school and I knew what little Gemma had taught me.  We got out our trusty phrase book and found our way to Montmartre. 

Guillaume’s
flat was compact, but beautiful.  His furniture was similar to Jack’s style, modern and dark.  He had very little artwork, but… who needed it with a view of the Sacre-Coeur from the living room?

I had studied photographs of Paris for years. 
However, to see it up close was a separate out-of-body kind of experience.

In his bedroom
sat a huge, ornate four-poster bed that he had obviously made with his own hands.  It was dressed in a dark gray matelassé coverlet, pulled tight at the seams, finished with delicate silver throw pillows.  Across from the bed was a set of doors leading to a small balcony.

“Wow,” I breathed.  “This is amazing.”
  I ran my hand along one of the posts.

Jack smiled at me.  “I could make you one
of these at home.”

“N
ah, it wouldn’t be the same.  This is a vacation bed.  Besides, I like ours, don’t you?”

He wrapped his arms around me.  “Of course I do.  It was yours. 
It does make a lot of noise though.  The neighbors probably hate us.  Speaking of that, we need to move the rest of your stuff out of your apartment by the end of next month.”

I groaned.  “I’m on vacation.  I’m not going to think about moving or anything else for the next two weeks.”
  I plopped down on the bed and spread my arms out.  “Oh, God, Jack.  Get in here.  It’s even better when you lie in it.”

He
lay down beside me.  “God bless it.  We’re moving to France.”

I shifted to
wards him.  “Thank you.  You know… for bringing me here.”  I pressed my hand to the side of his face, rubbing his stubble with my thumb.  “Never in a million years could I ever have imagined this.”

“What?” he asked.

“Everything.  You.  This trip.  School.  Moving in.  Getting married…
everything
.”

“It’s pretty good, right?”  He pull
ed me closer.

“Yeah.  It’s pretty good.”

He removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table.  He took them off for two things:  sleep and sex.  I hoped it was for the latter.  I leaned in and licked a line up his neck.

“Let’s make a baby,” he whispered
, dipping his head to my ear.  “We can name him Francois.”

“
Or Juliette.”

“The other boys would make fun of him,” he responded
while moving his hands up my thighs, slowly hitching my dress up.

God, he smelled good… even after a full day of travel.

I laughed aloud and shifted away.  “I’m pretty tired,” I teased.

He pressed his hands into my back, essentially turning me onto my stomach.  “Well, I’m pretty tired of
waiting
,” he said, tugging at my underwear.

I turned and smacked him on the side.  “We’ve been
on a plane all day.  We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.”

“And
yet, you still have those panties on.”

“It’s official.  You
have a problem.”

He placed a light smack on my backside.  “I do.  It’s unfulfilled lust.”

I rolled onto my back.  In five seconds, he had my body covered with his.  “Jack, get off of me.  I need to shower.”

“You been in there?” he asked.

“What?  To the bathroom?”

“Yeah.  No shower.  Just a tub.”

I groaned.  “But I love showers.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my neck.  “
Are you whining, Miss I’m-In-France-For-Two-Weeks?”

“Yes,” I
pouted. 

“
You look so beautiful right now.”

I laughed.  “Okay, whatever.  I’m gonna clean up and I’ll meet you on the balcony in twenty.”

“No way.  If you’re taking a bath, I’m taking one with you.”

*
****

It was a restful two weeks.  We saw everything.  Well, everything on
my
list.

The Louvre, Notre Dame,
the Eiffel Tower (too many people), the Arc de Triomphe, the Pantheon, Luxembourg Gardens… and countless patisseries.  We even fastened a lock to Lover’s Bridge like true tourists. 

But, i
f I was being honest, it was all
about the fashion… and the baked goods.

We slept in every morning, ate a ridiculous amount of
sugar, walked around, and made love every day. 

If we didn’t make a baby on this trip, we weren’t doing it right.

The best part of Paris was that apartment.  I thought we would spend every minute in the city, strolling endlessly, sitting in every café we came across.  Instead, we spent nearly half of it on that bed, in that kitchen, on that balcony.  Most of our photographs were taken right there in those four rooms.

Talking, eating, laughing… taking a break from our course.  Building our history together.

I loved him.

I fell in love with him ten times over in those fourteen days.

He was home.  I wasn’t sure that I’d ever felt that in my life.

So when it was time to pack and say goodbye, my heart felt heavy.

On the eve of our last night, I sat on the bed, staring out of the window.

“Baby?” Jack whispered.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.”  I stood and carefully wiped the moisture from my eyes.  “I just miss Buster, I guess.”

He sat on the bed.  “Okay
, what’s going on?  Sad about leaving?”

“What if it’s different
back at home?”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap.  “What if what is different?”

“This.  Us,” I answered.

“
It
is
different.  It’s better.”

*
****

Jack
cracked the door to our dark house sometime around three in the morning on Wednesday.  It was so ridiculously good to be home, even though the place still smelled heavily of paint.  I had moved most of my things in; Jack had been bending over backwards to make our place “Elsa-friendly.”

My green bookshelves and table had made their way back to the Goodwill, but
all of my tchotchkes had found a home on his pristine, polished bookcase.  Most of his spy novels and carpentry manuals had been boxed up and replaced with my family of figurines, chick-lit novels, and old black-and-white movies.

We had the place to ourselves for the evening.  We weren’t picking up Buster from Belle and Anthony’s until the morning.  He rolled our bags into our
(now pink) room and dropped them near the foot of the bed.

“Unpack tomorrow?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.  I couldn’t sleep much on the plane.”

I yawned.  “I know… me too.”  I unzipped my suitcase and dug out my toiletry bag.  “Gotta brush,” I said, holding up the toothpaste.

He followed suit and trailed in after me.  Both of us stood at the counter, blindly staring into the mirror.  I slowly swept the inside of my mouth with the soft bristles, watching Jack smile at me through the foam.

“What?” I mumbled.

He took the brush from his mouth and spit into the sink.  “I love you… that’s all.”

“You having a moment?”

“Oh, yeah.”

I spit into the sink and rinsed out my mouth, turning towards the tub.  “Shower,” I whispered, pulling my short dress over my head.  “I want to go to there.”

Jack laughed.  “Miss it?”

“You have no idea.  Baths are romantic and all, but showers are where it’s at.”

“It’s 3:30
in the morning.”

“So?”

He turned the knobs and adjusted the temperature, pulling back the curtain.  Tugging his shirt over his head, he asked, “Mind if I join you?”

I pressed my lips to his chest and tugged on a nipple with my teeth.  “You never have to ask.”

We barely made it into the hot water before Jack planted me up against the hard tile, dropping to his knees in front of me.  Lifting my leg and resting it on the edge of the cold porcelain, he pressed his tongue between my legs, sending a shudder through my core. 

I tugged at his
wet, shaggy hair and pulled him closer. 

He took his time with me,
a slow torture that consisted of flattening his tongue and dragging it back and forth.

God,
he had never been better.

“Jack,” I whimpered, gently bucking my hips.  Within
a minute, he had me screaming out my release.

He stood and pressed his lips to mine, parting them with his tongue.  “
Wrap your legs around me,” he breathed.

I hitched my leg around his thigh while he slowly pushed inside, the water adding extr
a friction between us.  His rhythm quickly picked up tempo.

“I’m not going to last,” he warned me, a laugh on his lips.  “I feel like I’m seventeen tonight.
”

I scratched my nails into the small of his back, slowly moving down to his backside.  I pulled him in
continuously.

“God… Elsa,” he muttered
as his hips met mine with every push.  He splayed his hands on the white tile on either side of my head, his body pressed flush against mine as I used my hands to guide his speed. 

He
let out a loud groan and pushed in one last time, holding me against the tile, kissing me desperately as his body slowed.  His breaths quieted as his lips softened on mine.

“
It’s good to be home, Jackie.”