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Justin growls out a laugh. “Fine. Once upon a time, there was a young woman living in New York,”
I humph in protest. “I don’t like where this story is going. Why can’t she live in LA or New Orleans?”
“Whose story is this?” He takes a breath and starts again. “As I was saying, she lived in New York on the upper East Side, so she was comfortable but very lonely. She was mostly sweet, but sometimes her temper got the better of her and she would flounce off in a huff instead of telling the people who cared about her what was bothering her.”
A swift but shallow jab of my elbow in his midsection earnsonly a minor retaliation of another kiss to my hand. I didn’t use very much force. He is still recovering, after all.
“Anyway, our girl passes her time helping her friends and doing artistic creative things with all the bits and pieces she picks up as she travels around the city. But then one day she runs into one of her father’s friends. He’s older, but still incredibly handsome and charming.”
Justin pauses like he’s waiting for the heckling to pass, but I can only hold myself still, my breath barely moving in and out of my body. This story is definitely picking up.
“And?” I finally prompt him.
He chuckles. “And this man finally sees what she’s been trying to tell everyone without words. That she has a big heart with a lot of love to give and that she has needs too. She needs to be seen, to be taken seriously, and she desperately needs to be touched. She needs his hands stroking the length of her body, teaching her what tenderness and care and respect really look like.”
I gulp and my body moves closer to him of its own volition until I find myself pressed against his side.
“The man decides he can be the one to show her all this. The rest of the world had their chance to deliver and failed to do so. Now it’s his turn.”
I hold my breath, waiting desperately for what comes next.
“The man understands that she’s more nervous about change than being with him, so he takes things very slowly. But not so slow that she doesn’t understand his intentions. He starts by calling her every morning when he knows she’ll still be in bed. At first she’s annoyed, but before long she’s complaining if it’s not what wakes her up first. So he starts calling her in the evening as well to wish her a good night. But he becomes worried that she’s staying in all the time and not occasionally going out with friends. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely doesn’t want her dating, but he’s not trying to hideher away from having fun, so he tells her he’ll only wish her good night at her door from then on. In person.”
My breath catches. Does that mean he’s going to kiss her?
Justin’s chuckle makes me realize I said that out loud.
“So the man takes her out. At first, he’s human enough to try to impress her. With the ballet and the opera, but he can’t really watch her there the way he wants to, and it seems more like venues where people go to be seen rather than enjoy the company they’re with. So instead he takes her to funny little second-hand shops and ethnic bakeries where they sample things neither of them can pronounce. She laughs at him endlessly, but he doesn’t mind because her eyes are happy and she appears to constantly be finding excuses to direct them his way.
And every night when he takes her to her door, he says good night and kisses her on her forehead.”
My growl of annoyance does not go unnoticed. Justin raises an eyebrow of warning in my direction.
“Then one day a few weeks later she reaches up and kisses him full on the mouth. It’s hard to say which one of them was more shocked by her action but it broke something in his self control. He simply had to taste her, to put his mark on her.”
Instinctively, my hand goes to my throat to touch the spot where Justin had done exactly that. I swallow hard.
“When the young woman attempts to bring him inside her apartment, he tells her no. He’ll pick her up the following evening and she’ll spend that night at his place. He tells her to pack a bag but not plan on going out. Then he leaves, abruptly, but it’s all he can do if he’s not going to take her up against the door and scare the shit out of her.”
I turn fully on my side so I can watch Justin’s face more easily as he talks.
“The young woman spends that night and the next day restless and anxious. She wants what’s coming, but she doesn’twant anything to change. And she knows she can’t have both. She’s also intelligent and knows that nothing changing won’t last long forever, no matter what she chooses. By the time the man calls for her, she’s calm once again. So much so that he’s worried. But he, too, is reassured when she reaches up to kiss him sweetly and looks him in the eyes. ‘I love you,’ she tells the man. And everything in him crumbles.”
My eyes feel wet. And I no longer care about the bet or the sexy part of the story. I’m not sure if Justin is even aware of what he’s saying behind the words of this nameless couple. But I know. I scoot up in the bed so I can kiss him. Sweetly but with a bit more passion than he was describing. He seems receptive…
17
One of these days, Ingrid is going to realize that she’s viewing me through the lens of her own sweetness and not reality. And maybe that’s why I feel the need to give her a touch of real romance. That, and itwasreally good pie.
I’m selfish enough to take her kisses while they’re freely offered. When she pulls back a little, her eyes dazed, I snuggle her against my side and continue with my story.
“Instead of taking her back to his apartment as he’d originally planned, he spends an additional three hours driving them to his getaway cottage well outside the city. It’s small and quaint, something he inherited from his grandmother. He told himself it was an investment — it would be worth so much more if he hung on to it. But the truth was, he liked the place and had fond memories of playing in his grandmother’s garden when he was young. It wasn’t quite a sacrifice to take that time for travel because the young woman was with him and he would be buried inside her soon enough.”
I pause to check on Ingrid. She’s watching me through half-lidded eyes, a small smile of enjoyment teasing her lips.
“The young woman loves the cottage as he’d expected, but now he’s impatient. He promises her she can explore the next day, or maybe the day after that. He carries her bags into the bedroom only then realizing he didn’t bring anything for himself. He kept the bare essentials on hand, but not much more than that. He lets it go and sweeps the younger woman into an embrace. Gradually deepening his kiss to allow her to pull back if it became overwhelming for her, he was surprised when she began to undress him.”
Ingrid giggles. I glance down at her in inquiry. “He’s not giving her much credit,” she remarks dryly.
