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Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tricia’s emergency session with Miles was a godsend as he gently probed her to think about the order of events. She had already made arrangements to meet with her mom, and she suggested having a DNA test with Erin to speed up the process of confirming Erin’s relationship to her.
Personally, I knew if she saw the picture, she wouldn’t need one, but I thought if I had been in Tricia’s shoes I’d have wanted to see as much evidence as I could. Miles had suggested I hold back on further contact with Erin until after Tricia had confronted her mom. He felt Tricia needed a clear focus on her mother to obtain answers she had spent most of her life without, and we knew she would only achieve this if she could stay in control of her feelings.
During the session, I also pointed out Erin may have questions about her adoption that Tricia would struggle to answer without talking to her mother first. It was this thought that swung it, and so she agreed she would wait.
As I thought, Miles helped clear Tricia’s head and she later agreed with me the next logical step was to meet with her mother, but the night before they were due to meet I worried she may not go through with it. She was naturally irritable and had a mountain of nervous energy she had been finding hard to contain.
“Get your jacket,” I stated, when she’d walked in front of the TV for the fourth time in less than five minutes.
“Why, where are we going?”
“Out. Times Square. You’re not too old to eat a great hotdog, are you?” It was unusual for us to be in the city on a Friday night.
Tricia grinned. “Hotdog? Is that a euphemism for something dirty?”
“Depends on how your mind is working and I know yours has been all over the place these past five days.” Her comment gave me a great idea to distract her. “Get your jacket, I want to take you somewhere.”
“You said, Times Square.”
“To start with, yes. Play your cards right and there could be a prize at the end of it.”
“Oh, now I’m interested, I love a good gamble.” Grabbing a linen jacket from her closet, I took it from her hands and held it while she put it on. “I love you taking care of me,” she admitted, turning and sliding her arms around my waist. “You wanted a girlfriend and look what you got. Don’t you want to run away yet?”
Smoothing the crease between her brows with my fingertip, I dropped my forehead on hers and my heart leapt at the sudden connection that grew between us. That little spark between us gave me the confidence I needed to know everything would work out okay. All that mattered was we were together.
I was behind her quest for the truth one-hundred-percent. “I wouldn’t swap you for the world,” I muttered, knocking my nose gently against hers.
Tricia swallowed audibly, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Why?” she whispered, looking as if she could hardly believe what I said.
“Because my heart is yours, Tricia, and I can’t live without one unless I’m with you.”
“Damn, James, how come you always know the right thing to say?”
“I don’t. I believe you have me confused with my little brother,” I replied, and chuckled because Sawyer was the romantic in the family. “Now let’s get out of here and take an evening walk around our beautiful city.”
* * *
Taking Tricia out proved to be the right course of action when I saw her grinning as we stood by the hotdog stand outside the Museum of Sex.
“I can’t believe you did that. Did you see the shock on those girls’ faces?” she asked, chuckling, her eyes sparkling for the first time in weeks. I must have looked ridiculous to the group of twenty-something girls on a bachelorette outing, but the number of shrieks, whoops, and whistles I got from them made Tricia’s day.
“It was like a rebirth,” I stated, laughing heartily. Tricia had bet me I wouldn’t go down a slide that ended with me coming out of a tunnel beneath a massive ass. The museum was partly a fun interactive attraction and part exhibition venue. Some of it had glass cabinets with relics and photographs of sexual rituals from different parts of the world and sexual fetishes, and then there were what I supposed were sexual inventions and artwork.
My favorite attraction was a pedal bicycle with a giant penis that would fuck the rider while their partner controlled the speed by pedaling the bike. When I had jokingly suggested we found a supplier to fit one in the spare room of the apartment, the questioning look on Tricia’s face was priceless.
“Hm, I think you may be defunct,” Tricia chuckled, as she held up a massive dildo that could have passed for a kid’s baseball bat.
“Have at it, it’ll be a poor substitute for the real one in my pants. Besides, that thing wouldn’t fit in your mouth, and that’s the only place I’d let you stuff it, your sweet little pussy is mine.” Tricia glanced down at her hotdog and I immediately chuckled. “You’re welcome to put that in your mouth as well, if you like, it’ll keep you going until we get home and you can suck on the real thing,” I joked, and her face broke into another grin.
My heart warmed when she looked up with desire in her eyes. “Is all this talk and no action making you wet, baby?” I mumbled close to her ear.
“Maybe,” she replied impishly in a tight squeaky voice. I laughed again, pulled her into my side, and planted a kiss on her temple.
“Oye, mustard breath, keep your lips to yourself,” she mumbled around a mouthful of hotdog.
“Yeah, let’s see if you’re still saying that when I’ve spread your legs wide and my head is between your thighs.”
