For Life (27 page)
Grady
“Thank you, Lord, for our many blessings today. Thank you for the safety of everyone in this family. Thank you for the wonderful food on this table, and please send your love to those less fortunate. Thank you for my beautiful family, and I hope Carl isn’t causing too much trouble.”
We compromised on Thanksgiving dinner so we could have Renée and the kids with us. We had pizza yesterday on Thanksgiving and avoided the Black Friday crowds and traffic by having our dinner today. Jacob and Noah are at a plastic kiddie picnic table next to the adult table, and Addie is over the moon to be sitting at our table next to Chloe.
“Daddy’s causing trouble in Heaven?” Noah pipes up, and the whole table erupts in laughter.
“He better not be,” my mom declares, and the kids giggle again.
Renée looks a bit better, and I’m glad Cassie suggested the change of plans to have her here. I know Renée had a tough time being with her family yesterday, but she seems to be content with us. Not to mention Cassie can’t keep her hands off Sophie, which makes me think things I shouldn’t. At one point I look over at her and she has Sophie cradled to her chest exactly like she used to hold Chloe and Caden. I know women hold babies more or less the same, but there’s something in her face. She looks peacefully maternal.
It might be insane when we have two teenagers and we’re just a few years from our freedom, but I’d definitely have more kids if she wanted them. We could have two more, start over again, confuse people when we tell them the kids are from our first and second marriages. I’m grinning to myself at this thought when Cassie catches me staring at her and blows me a kiss.
The only thing that would make this day more perfect would be having my brother in that chair across from his wife. I want so badly to see him sitting there, watching his kids, laughing and talking with the rest of us. Everything else about this day is exactly what I’ve dreamed about for eleven years.
We stuff ourselves into a food coma. My mom, in typical fashion, grudgingly lets us clean up and tries not to hover, but as soon as we’re out of her kitchen she breaks out her arsenal of cleaning supplies.
“This is fun for me,” she protests when I try to talk her out of it. “I like my kitchen spotless. It’s my hobby. Go watch your football and leave me to it. Try to digest some of that food, we still have three pies to eat.”
Renée actually likes watching football, which Cassie definitely does not, so she takes the little ones to the attic with Chloe while Caden, Renée and I spend the afternoon shouting at the game. The faint scent of the household cleaner my mom has used faithfully all my life wafts from the kitchen, and I can’t help but smile thinking that the same traditions will still be in place for years to come. My kids and Carl’s will grow up with the same memories my brother and I held so dear, right here in this house.
* * * *
Much later, I’m lying in bed with Cassie, spooning her, my nose buried in her hair. She yawns and nestles deeper into my embrace. “I think that was our best Thanksgiving yet,” she murmurs sleepily. “If Carl was here it would’ve been perfect.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Renée seems okay, right?”
“I think so. It’s hard to tell, really. She’s not outwardly emotional, you know that. I mean, not about herself and her troubles.”
“That’s what worries me,” Cassie admits. “She’s so good at making people forget she’s just had this horrible tragedy, but I don’t know… I worry that she’s suppressing a lot of it. I talked to her about seeing someone, but I don’t know that she’ll do it. She thinks therapy’s a waste of time.”
“Not everyone is as pro-therapy as you are, baby.” I give her an affectionate squeeze.
“You wouldn’t want to know me without therapy,” she declares. “You think I’m nuts now, see me off meds and three weeks between appointments.”
It’s a total exaggeration - Cassie takes a very mild dosage of anti-anxiety medication and sees Dr. Gaul twice a month - but she’s self-conscious about her condition. It’s definitely increased since we were first together, so I’m glad she’s able to manage it with her combination of yoga, medication, and counseling. But it really isn’t a big deal.
“You’re ridiculous. And beautiful. And a little bit nuts, but only in a cute way.” I nibble her earlobe and whisper, “I love you exactly the way you are.”
And at my words she shifts in my arms until she’s facing me and says very sweetly, looking right into my eyes, “I love you, Grady.”
I’m shocked. Not because I don’t feel her love every day, because I do. Although she’s never said it back, she shows me all the time. I know she’s been holding that for something, waiting for a moment when she felt safe enough to say it.
She’s in my arms and she feels safe enough to tell me that she loves me. What a gift. My heart swells like it did when I was just a junior in high school taking my shot at a beautiful senior. I think I can’t love her more, or differently, and then she surprises me.
“Say something,” she whispers.
“Something,” I return, cradling her face in my hands and kissing her again. Her lips part beneath mine and I lose myself in the pleasure of having her back.
Memorial Day Weekend, 1999
Grady
Watching my wife’s face when we pull up to the bed & breakfast is well worth the strings I had to pull to make this weekend happen. We never had a honeymoon, so this weekend is a late substitute, if it counts to have one two years later. Her face right now? I’m guessing it counts.
The B & B looks like something out of a fairy tale, rising up out of the sand and sparkling in the sunlight. It’s a massive pink seaside Victorian, with white gingerbread trim and a mermaid on the sign. There are giant ferns and white wicker furniture on the balconies. It looks romantic, the perfect venue for a long overdue getaway with Cassie. I swear she stops breathing when we pull into the parking lot. She knew we were coming to Cape May, but I don’t think she imagined we’d be staying in a place like this. We’re young, so “nice” for us is a Holiday Inn. This confection by the sea is beyond our wildest dreams. The brochures didn’t do it justice.
“You’re kidding, right?” she breathes.
I take her hand and grin. “Nope, this is the place. Three nights.”
“Oh my God!” Her cheeks flush and she looks like she’s going to cry. “Oh my God, Grady. It’s so beautiful! I can’t believe—” Suddenly her face falls and her hand in mine becomes a death grip. “Wait, we can’t afford this! Can we?”
“I sold my old dirt bike and one of my guitars that I don’t play that much. Carl put them in the classifieds for me. We can afford it.” I cup her face and she smiles at me so beautifully that my mind goes blank.
“I love you, Grady.”
I kiss her twice before answering. Once quick and once longer and lingering. “I love you, too, Cass.”
She claps her hands and bounced in her seat with excitement. “Can we go see it now?”
I take her to see our getaway.
Later that night, after Cassie’s had a long soak in the claw foot tub and we’ve made love twice in the giant four-poster bed, we lie twined together in our favorite position: Cassie tucked in next to me, her leg slung over mine, her head on my chest. I stroke her hair and she sighs happily.
“Cass,” I murmur.
“Mmm?” she mumbles happily in return.
I hesitate before telling her what I want. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s not the right time, maybe she’s changed her mind about it since it’s been awhile since we discussed it. But our life together is so full, and so happy, and I just want… more. Just a little bit more us.
“Let’s make another baby,” I blurt. I don’t say anything else, not any of the things I want to, and when she’s silent I worry I’ve pressed her.
Then I feel her shaking in my arms and I’m terrified I’ve upset her until I realize she’s not crying, she’s laughing. She sits up on her heels and smacks my chest. “You bastard! All this time and you knew?”
I honestly have no idea what she’s talking about, and I stare at her helplessly. When it dawns on her that I’m completely clueless she starts laughing harder, and then her laughter turns into tears.
“Oh my God!” she half-laughs, half-sobs. “Grady. I’m pregnant. I was going to tell you tomorrow, and when you said that I thought you already knew and you were just teasing me!”
I sit straight up in bed and she crawls onto me, straddling my lap. “You’re gonna be a daddy again,” she whispers in my ear. “It’s a boy this time, I can feel it.”
“Are you serious?” I splay my fingers across her belly, which isn’t yet swollen, and marvel that there’s another life growing inside her. Another baby, a new person we created together from love.
“I’m so serious.” She looks like an angel to me, her face serene and happy, her eyes bright and still wet, the softest blush on her cheeks. I stir against her and we’re both surprised by it.
I clear my throat and grin at her. “Apparently that’s what putting a baby inside you does to me.”
“Apparently,” she purrs, her eyes softening and getting that hazy look they get when she wants me. She reaches between us and squeezes me, hardening me instantly, and then slowly lowers herself onto me, sighing as I spear into her.
She rocks softly and I’m lost in her. Her dark hair tumbles around our faces like a canopy, surrounding me with her scent, and my tongue thrusts into her mouth to the rhythm of her hips, making her whimper. She’s wrapped around me, her limbs twined with mine, and I am pinned to the headboard by her lush warmth. I wrap my arms around her back, my hands gripping her shoulders, and I work her onto me, picking up speed, until she breaks our kiss to pant softly into my neck. She’s close, moaning my name quietly as she jerks her hips against mine, and knowing I’m making her come again so easily arouses me even further.
“All mine,” I groan into her hair as I feel her start to shudder. I clutch her hips as she batters herself against me, then stiffens and holds her breath. A melody of pleasure escapes her, an endless sigh of satisfaction that summons forth my own release. When she whispers, “All yours,” my orgasm unfurls so violently the earth seems to tilt before it rights itself and sends us collapsing to the mattress, breathless and deliriously in love.
Cassie
On a snowy Sunday in December, three weeks before Christmas, I reach in my pocket for the set of keys that I’ve held onto for a week. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, and now Grady and I are walking Ares around the neighborhood, flakes swirling around us like we’re in a snow globe, sticking to our eyelashes and dusting our hair. Both of us are calm and happy, and I can’t think of a more perfect moment than now to give him what I want more than anything for Christmas this year.
When I press the keyring into Grady’s hand I’m surprised at the tears that spring to my eyes. “Start packing,” I say lightly.
He doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at the simple silver house with the keys attached to it. I had “Welcome Home” engraved in the metal, and watching his lips curl up in the corners I know it was the perfect touch. He stops and turns it over and over in his palm, the keys clinking against each other as he reads the other side: “Love always, Cassie.”
His arms wrap tightly around me, crushing me to him, smearing my tears all over the front of his shirt. “Cass, are you sure?” he whispers into my hair.
“Yes. As sure as I can be.” Actually, I’m still terrified, but Grady always makes it seem like everything will be okay, so I take the leap.
“Kids know?”
I shake my head. “I thought we should tell them together.”
“You’re right.” He nods. “We should.” He looks thoughtful for another moment and then grins at me. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
We’ve talked about getting remarried. As usual, I’m the one dragging my feet. Grady would marry me today if he could, and it makes me feel a bit guilty, but I tell myself I’ll be ready soon. It’s not that I don’t want to be married - a new marriage, one that will bring us even more joy than our old marriage - but I need time.
“We’ll have to keep revisiting that, Grady,” I say softly, and he only looks slightly disappointed.
“You just need time,” he assures me confidently. “And you have all the time you need from me.”
Tears scald my eyes again at his endless patience, and I will my heart to take me those extra few steps to allow me to agree to be Grady’s wife again
May 8, 2001
Grady
She’s tiptoeing out of Chloe’s room when I catch her in the hallway and swing her off her feet and over my shoulder. She kicks her legs and hisses, “Put me down, you freak!” but she’s giggling the whole time.
“Carrying my bride to our bed in our new house,” I tell her, slapping her butt playfully and earning a muffled squeal.
“The baby monitors!” she protests, but I’m one step ahead of her.
“Got ‘em both.” They’re sitting next to our bed, volume turned low, tucked behind the bottle of champagne she doesn’t know I have.
When I slide her back down my body to her feet she gasps and covers her mouth. I’ve lit the whole room in candles. There’s nothing else in this room except our mattress on the floor, the bed frame propped up against the wall, and a laundry basket of essential clothes. Everything else is still downstairs, crammed in our living room.
I was supposed to be putting the bed frame together while she put Chloe to sleep, but I can do it tomorrow. There’s something about this mattress on the floor that reminds me of our very first apartment. We ate pizza and drank cheap champagne on that bed our first night and made love until we were exhausted. We definitely won’t be eating any pizza in this bed tonight - Cass instituted a “no food in the bedroom” rule long ago, and we’ve already had dinner - but I’ve got better champagne this time and I’m damn sure hoping for the sex.
“So why isn’t the frame together again?” she asks, pretending to bust my balls. My arms are still wrapped around her, and I know she’s only teasing because she’s melting into me in that way, the way that means I am definitely getting lucky.
“I was too busy lighting all these candles,” I whisper in her ear.
“And what did you think would happen with all this candlelight?” Her husky voice gives her away. Oh yeah.
Lucky.
“I thought that maybe…” I slide one hand up her hip, across her belly, and then just under the edge of her tank top, making her arch into me.
“Mmmm?” She leans her head back on my shoulder as I stroke her with my fingertips, drawing her tank up to bare her midriff as I move my touch up her body.
“Just maybe…” I tease, tugging her tank over her head and dropping it to the floor. My fingers find her breasts and trace the full swells, so much larger and more sensitive since she had Caden. I tug one bra strap off her shoulder and kiss from the outside of her shoulder in, until my mouth latches onto the nape of her neck and she shudders in my arms.
“Grady,” she whimpers.
I slide the other strap down and kiss across her back to that shoulder, slipping one hand into the cup of her bra, finding her nipple a hard pea in my fingers. She arches into me and I’m hard against her, my cock nestled between her cheeks.
I keep kissing her neck, her shoulders, her back while I unfasten the bra and hang it on the doorknob of the closet.
“You’re such a weirdo,” she murmurs, and then gasps again when my fingers simultaneously pinch her nipples.
“I’ll show you what a weirdo I am,” I growl into her hair, and she giggles softly. My hands cup her tits, stroking the soft flesh, feeling the stiff peaks rub against my palms.
And then my fingers travel down, into the elastic of her shorts, under the waistband of her panties, and straight into her heat. She makes a strangled noise in her throat and I dip into her again.
“First we’re going to toast to our new house,” I whisper in her ear. “And then I’m gonna lick champagne off every inch of your body.” She’s quivering against me, her pussy slick and hot, and when my tongue makes contact with her earlobe she squeezes my fingers from the inside, making my dick jump against her, and pants quietly.
“And then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk straight tomorrow,” I finish, walking her toward the bed with my fingers hooked into her.
“Grady…” When I let her go to draw her down to the mattress her eyes are huge and dark and full of love and happiness. She peels my clothes from me and I reach for the champagne bottle as she tugs my erection, slicking pre-cum into her palm and giving me a slow, deliberate hand job while I stare at the bottle in a panic, realizing I’ve left the glasses downstairs.
“We’ll drink from the bottle,” she says, squeezing me until I groan and then resuming her steady motions with her hand. I take the first swig and swallow hard as she settles into a vigorous rhythm guaranteed to make me blow quickly.
“Shit, that’s good,” I groan happily, and offer her a swig. She wraps her lips around the mouth of the bottle and makes a show of sucking it before she finally drinks the champagne. My cock is officially hard enough to break out of her grip on its own.
Her hand stills and she lifts her palm to her mouth and laps at it daintily, like a cat. When she kisses me I can taste my own salt. I tip the champagne bottle against her lips again and watch her take a huge mouthful and swallow, closing her eyes with pleasure, and then I drip some of the cold, bubbly liquid down her chest.
Cassie giggles and then sighs as my lips and tongue follow the crisp trail of the wine. Some liquid pools in her belly button and I suck it out, then sink my teeth gently into the soft flesh of her tummy. Her fingers skim my shoulders, lightly scratch my back, twine in my hair.
She tugs the bottle from my hand and drinks deeply. I nuzzle between her breasts while she swallows and then she’s pushing me back into the mattress. With a naughty gleam in her eye she lowers her cold mouth to me and I forget every other plan I had for tonight.
