Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl... (30 page)

“OHhhhhhh……,” now I get it…

“It’s time. You ready?” Does the sun shine twelve hours a day? You bet your hot-crossed buns it does.

“Ya, ha...” Can’t make words… feels too good, shock mouth is back.

Without needing any more words of encouragement, he follows my lead and within moments we are totally (unbelievably) and completely (unimaginably) one. In an instant, our friendship has bound itself within our bodies and from this point forward he will forever be mine and I “The Girl” who will forever take care of his soul, will forever be his in return. “Fav girl” number one right here baby!

“Why haven’t we done this before,” he breathes into my ear before sucking its small adjoining lobe in between his wet lips. “I mean, my god,” his words light my body on fire and I suddenly believe I can do anything. Run a marathon? Sure. Train for the Indy 500? Who doesn’t?  Match the world record time for swimming the English Channel? Hell yeah! This is definitely worth the fuss!  DEF-IN-ATE-LY! All serious caps!

“I never want to stop,” he moans.

“Never stop then,” I moan. This is making love. This is not the hanky panky or the dance with no pants or the proverbial bumping uglies. This is “IT”! The moment I fall all the way, to the moon and back, around the world in love with Ashton Riley Stevens. It’s the beginning of our forever.

“Forever.” I whisper.

“Forever.” He sighs.

***

This is the last of what I’ll say about all of that.  WOOOOOO to the freakin’ WHOOOOO! Sweet baby Jesus of the B.I.B.L.E.! Ashton is… adjective alert... enthusiastic, talented, giving (like, a lot of giving), generous (I LOVE generosity, it’s my favorite), a wonderful educator, a bit of a disciplinarian (me-ow), tender, loving, and the best one of all, MINE!

We’re lying in bed enjoying the aftermath of our arousal with our precious Birdie (still not the name) asleep between us when I decide to tell him that I finally dug up the letters from my dad that we’ve been waiting to open all these years. 

“Remember when we were cleaning out my dad’s house?” I sigh. I literally cannot stop sighing. No one ever told me that that was a side effect of so much sex. Notice I just popped out the word like it was no big deal. Listen, when it’s all you’ve been begging to do for hours on end, you learn quickly that you can say it. A lot. When you’re begging for it, which I did, like (like, like, like, like… I don’t even care anymore. He sexed the anger out of me!) Like, A LOT! After all, I’ve been charged with caring for his soul. Sigh…

“Yeah, I remember the letters,” he answers, confused by the relevance of the topic while we’re lying in my big girl bed wearing nothing but our birthday suits on DAY ONE of our FOREVER sexathon! I wonder how my sheetrock is?

“Well, I found them.” He knows me well enough to know where this is going.

“Where are they?” He asks reaching up and running his index finger along my bottom lip. Dear Lord I never knew my bottom lip was so horny! I quick push his finger away, unable to focus when it’s, you now, there… touching me, on my horny bottom lip.

“On the nightstand behind you.” I quiver, lifting my hand and pointing to where they are. He rolls over (oh, there’s his butt! Who knew I’d love Ashton’s butt?) and picks them both up and rolls back over (too soon) and hands me mine while holding onto his own.

“Well? Are we doing this?” He holds up his letter and waits for me to give the okay before he rips into his the way I know he’s been dying to all these years (that’s why they were in the attic. Too much temptation for my douche).

“We are. Do you want to go first?” He looks me over trying to figure out what I want but I don’t care who goes first. I really am fine either way. Now that I know today is the day, I actually wouldn’t mind being last, that way I can savor the excitement for a little bit longer. I love that the overriding feeling I have right now is excitement rather than the feeling of barf. That’s how I know this is right. I’m not sad. I’m not barfy. What an amazing day. Today is my new favorite day. 

“You know what?” I say before he can answer. “You go first. I want to be last. Go on.” I encourage, with childlike enthusiasm.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” He slides his finger under the corner and pulls along the top like his finger’s an expert letter opener (why is that sexy?). He pulls out the folded page and opens it. His eyes do a quick scan and it’s over that fast but not before an enormous and mischievous grin spreads across his face. That’s a peculiar reaction to have after reading a dying man’s final words to you. 

“Your turn.”

“WHAT?” I gasp! “What’s it say? Let me see that.” My pillow comes out from behind my head and I smack it across his naked chest. He starts laughing and holding the letter high up in the air away from me as I continue to grab for it only to be foiled by his long, handsome, muscle-y… naked… arm. Focus CeeCee, you want that letter. 

“Open yours and then we’ll share. Go on,” he prompts, pushing me with his big toe under the covers. Did I mention I love him under my covers! Ashton, naked, under my covers equals, the bomb!

I try to open my letter all cool and sexy like him and when I try to turn my index finger into a letter opener I get a very uncool, very unsexy paper cut. “Ow,” I hiss and he takes my finger in his hot mouth and sucks it until my eyes roll back in my head. Once I’m no longer groaning in pain but with pleasure he ever so nicely removes his mouth from my finger allowing me to finish the task at hand.  Okay, now my finger as a letter opener is sexy. Holy finger sucking… Who knew?

I fumble with the paper, trying and failing to be gentle with it. This is it, the moment I’ve feared for the past four years. My fingers are shaking and tears prematurely sting my eyes. Ashton splays his big hand across my small hip and squeezes me as a sign of his encouragement. His love.

I unfold the top and then the bottom and stare at the few words scribbled across the page. I look up at Ashton, the confusion evident  in my eyes. 

“Did you know about this?” I say blinking back the waterfall.

“No.” Is his one word response.

“I… I…” I…

“Let me.” He picks up the puppy, still sound asleep, and moves her into the box full of blankets on the floor beside him. He takes the paper from my hand and joins it with his on the nightstand. His big strong arms, the ones I hope and pray will forever take care of me, wrap around and pull me toward him until we’re flush. Naked.

“I love you.” I nod my head in agreement with this well-proven statement. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved any other person on this ever-loving planet that we continue to spin ever-loving around on.” I nod, I’m so happy. Thank God.

"Your dad told me once, that day I scratched Hotpants into your table, remember?” Nod. My brain is broken. No words. Shock mouth. “Remember how mad he was?” I Nod. He smiles. “Well he made me go home for like a week if I remember correctly? Worst week of my life, by the way.” Mine too, at least at the time. “Well, he told me that if I was ever lucky enough to get you to love me that I would be a fool to let you go. That if I had any sort of sense floating around in my thick, teenagery head I’d do right by you. Take care of you and love you the way you deserved to be loved.”

“And?” I look at him expectantly. 

He looks at me, frustrated with my little interruption in the middle of his beautiful tale, “And… he told me one day I’d know it was right and I’d make you mine before you got smart and ran away. But, what he really wanted me to know was that when I finally had the nerve to do it, he’d be right there with us, and he wanted me to know that he approved.  And that’s when he told me to go home and not to come back for a week and that also, it was not very mature of me to make permanent marks in other people’s furniture.” Now I’m laughing and the tears I was trying to hold back have been forced from my eyes in merriment.

“Oh God, that is exactly what he would’ve said!” I love this story. It’s like another hidden treasure that I got to open today, a sparkly, happy story-jewel for my heart to hold onto. I finish laughing and feel his heart beating strongly against my own. I look up into his eyes when I feel him growing serious again. 

“What is it?” I reach up and run my fingers through his soft hair front to back and he sighs in comfort.

“His letter was a prompt. A ‘go for it,’ if you will.”  Okay?

“Can I see it?” I reach for it over his shoulder and open it behind his head. My eyes fly to his, worried about what he must be thinking and he’s smiling back at me in peace.  “I…” I mumble some unintelligible words under my breath and shake my head around before I read my father’s words aloud.

“Ask her.” I whisper, “You have my permission.” It reads. And then, “Love Dad.”

“So, here goes.” He takes my right hand that’s been resting behind his neck and pulls it to his lips, kissing it once in a show of adoration before he begins. 

“Cecilia St. May. I have loved you since the day I first saw you and your crazy pony tails in first grade. I didn’t know that’s what I felt but I knew I didn’t feel the same way about anyone else. Since then, you have been my playmate, no pun intended, my best friend, my hero, my comforter, my everything.” I kiss him. I can’t help it. He’s saying some pretty ridiculously sexy and beautiful stuff to me.

He stops kissing my mouth and moves his lips to my eyelids reverently kissing them one at a time followed by the tip of my nose, my chin, my cheeks (the ones on my face ladies… he’ll get to the others… again.). 

“I want to marry you. I want to hold your hand and shout at you how awesome you are when you’re pushing out our babies (hold the phone). I want to stay up all night with you when they cry and barf (uhm…). I want to watch you take care of them knowing all the while I’ll be there to take care of you (better). I want to catch you when you fall (you better). Pull you back to me when you try to hide (I won’t). I want to kiss you until we’re all old and wrinkly and wise (okay). I want you to want us forever (done).”  I’d like to add that right now, I am ugly crying. 

“I want you to be mine. But first I have to ask properly as your father would want me to.” He climbs out of bed and kneels on the floor next to me and takes my small, shaking hand into his still, large, warm one and says, “Will you Marry Me? Will you be my forever? Will you take care of my heart?”

I’m literally unable to answer him, at least with words.  So I do the next best thing and express myself and my willingness to love him with my body. I pull his head to mine and kiss him like we will die without the oxygen our mouths now share. I dig my hands into his spine as if I wish to fuse his stomach to my own through the pressure of my forcefulness alone. He returns my passion in kind but with even… more. More heat, more force, more power. 

When I feel I’m able to breathe again, like my soul has been satisfied, I pull back and stare into those whisky eyes… my whisky eyes. He stares into my blue ones… his blue ones and I smile. 

“So you love me, huh?” I say and he kisses my nose.

“Yep. I kinda do… A lot. More than friends.” I smile.  He smiles.

“And you want me to marry you?” He smirks. I smirk.

“Yep. A lot.” Sigh… sigh…

“Then I’ll marry you. But there’s a stipulation.”

“Name it.” I love a man of few words.

“We leave today. We’re married tonight.” I watch closely for his tells of fear.

“And?” Like what I’ve just said is no big thing. 

“And? That’s it. Is that not enough?” I laugh. He laughs.

“I thought you were going to make it something crazy.  That’s easy.” He gets up to leave.

“Where are you going? I’m not done with you yet.” I point down under the covers to the business end of things.  “Get back under here.”

“Oh. Well one of us has to be mature here. If we’re flying to Vegas tonight I’ve got to make flight arrangements. We need to pack. Call your brother. Oh shit, he’s going to kill me.” He’s kind of frantic now, it’s cute.  He scoops up the puppy. “We need to find a place for this little girl. I bet Connor and Liddy will watch her. I like her, by the way. Liddy, she’s a cool chick. Also, I heard about your business. Really cool.” He’s nervous. My Ashton is nervous after all. I love him. I love him. I love him…

“Get up woman. We need to stop the mail. Are we going to live at your place? Your place is way nice, I say we stay here for now, at least until we have those babies (is his clock ticking?). Then we’ll really need a house, especially if you need a work room or whatever.” This rambling goes on for a while as I get dressed, make the necessary phone calls and pack my bags. We’re walking out the front door when he stops and looks over his shoulder at me.

“What?” I say, stopping before I slam into him with my body and roller bag.

“What did your letter say? You never said.” He’s smiling, waiting.

“It just said “Say yes.” A sort of ‘go for it,’ if you will.”  We’re both smiling.

“You know? This is the first time we’ve stepped out this door together in three years. This is pretty exciting. Are you ready?” 

I grab the door from him and push him aside. “Let me,” I throw it open and… break the wall… “Seriously?” I groan as he starts laughing and I can’t help but laugh along. Hole forgotten.

“Well, at least I can go to The Depot now. So there’s that.”