Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
Anna nestles between us on the couch to watch her favorite Christmas movie. Little Cindy Lou Who sleds down the hill, desperately trying to deliver her letter to Santa. The dog, Max, licks her face after her epic crash. She watches with wide-eyed wonder until her eyelids begin to droop.
“Mama, skating tomorrow?” she asks dreamily.
“Of course, Bug, if the rink’s open.” I reach for her, but James is already moving.
“I’ve got her.”
He lifts her, her small body folding into his broad frame, and tucks her head into the curve of his shoulder. The same way he held her all those years ago, caring for her as an infant.
He carries her up the stairs and lays her in bed. She curls around her ladybug and her sleepy voice drifts out: “Will you sing me Twinka, Twinka, Unca J?”
I turn away, fighting the swell of emotion tightening my throat.
It was the end of a beautiful day. One of those days in D.C.
where winter receded and spring burst forth even in January.
It was two weeks after we left the cabin.
Anna and I had spent the entire day outside.
At bedtime, Mason stood in the doorway, watching.
She had looked up at him, hopeful. “Dada, sing Twinka, Twinka?”
He mumbled something about being tired and walked out.
When I looked at Anna, her eyes quivered in tears, but I saw her swallow them down instead of letting them fall. So reminiscent of how I responded to my parents’ dismissals.
It was a small thing, but it was the moment I knew. I just needed it to be done.
That was the night I told Mason we were separating.
It hadn’t been easy. The conversation had unraveled into anger, blame, and hurt.
While at times he plays the part of respecting my wishes, he still asks when I’m coming home.
I don’t think he realizes this is permanent, even though the divorce papers have been filed and custody agreements are in place.
He clings to the delusional hope that I’ll “come to my senses.”
Now, standing in the doorway, listening to James’s deep voice crooning the lullaby while he tucks the blanket over Anna, a wave of longing sweeps through me. This is what it should have always been.
“So, what should we do now?” He walks over, monitor in hand, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.
We’re alone. Anna’s asleep. This night is ours.
“We could read. The sunroom is lovely this time of night. I have a new book I’ve been dying to crack open.” I tease, grabbing his hand and interlacing our fingers.
“Hmmm, interesting idea. I had something else in mind.” His grin widens, that devastating dimple deepening. “We could test out the new hot tub.”
“Let me think. That’s a hard choice. I’d say hot tub, but I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”
“That’s no problem.” His voice lowers to a pitch that has the hairs rising on the back of my neck. “I’m sure you have a pair of shorts and a sports bra. Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll make sure it’s set.”
He winks and walks off towards the basement. If I weren’t so turned on, I’d laugh. Instead, I hurry back to my room and tear through my suitcase. I went shopping after I got the text from him, securing a few new items, just in case.
I could play it safe. Wear something conservative. Practical as he suggested. Or I could go…a different route. See how far I can push before his restraint breaks.
Yep. I want to see an unleashed James. The one that’s done holding back.
***
New French doors open behind the pool table onto the newly constructed patio.
The hot tub isn’t your typical plop-it-down-on-the-ground model.
They installed it in the ground and laid a stone patio across the entire length of the basement.
But it’s the rest that stops me in my tracks.
A gorgeous wooden trellis spans the ceiling and sides, with vines and garden lights twined throughout.
There are pots filled with trees separating the hot tub from the view of the woods.
James stands in the center. Black swim trunks. Soft instrumental music playing.
“What do you think? Since everything was fine with the foundation, I needed something to keep me around for a few days. So I came up with the trellis and plants. I thought Margaret would appreciate it.” His eyes narrow and darken, seeing my eyes travel the length of his body.
My not-so-discreet ogling. He stands there and lets me get my fill.
I take my time, appreciating every ripple of muscle. The dark hair that trails down to his waistband. His legs are sculpted from thousands of miles. Finally meeting his eyes, I smile, feeling the blush on my cheeks. He hits me with that cocky smirk. I exhale shakily, steadying my nerves.
“This is amazing. I can’t believe you made this. Since when do architects do the actual building?” I cinch the tie on my robe, overwhelmed about the idea of dropping it—and showing him my forty-year-old body, with all his perfection on display.
“I know how to use a saw. I enjoy the building part. Picked up a thing or two kicking around construction sites.” He takes a step closer. “Are we going to stand here all night talking about the woodwork or are you going to drop that robe and get into the water?”
My pulse stutters, my heart thrashing against my chest. I turn away, trying to gather some of the courage I had upstairs when this idea seemed wise.
“It’s not fair how handsome you are. You know I’ve had a kid and things aren’t…”
He’s standing in front of me before I can finish the thought. “Don’t do that. I’ve imagined this more times than I care to admit. Is it okay if I undo this tie?”
I nod and wrap my shaking hands behind my back. He slowly undoes the knot, and the robe falls open an inch, not enough to see anything. His hands tremble, reaching for the fabric on my shoulders.
He lets out a muffled groan and backs up a few steps. His ribs expand with each slow exhale as he stares, drinking me in. The flare in his eyes is exactly what I need.
I let the robe fall to the ground. I stand before him. Sheer black bra. Matching thong.
There might be fabric separating his eyes from my body, but everything is visible.
A pin drop would’ve sounded like a scream in the charged silence.
After a long moment, he takes a deep breath and closes the distance between us. His thumb traces the curve of my bottom lip, a delicious humming noise rumbling from the back of his throat.
I lift my chin, and he leans in. For a second, a sweet prelude—our mouths ghost over each other and we pause, breathing in this mind-shattering tipping point we’ve dreamed of for years.
Our lips meet in a kiss that’s anything but tentative.
It’s achingly sweet—not soft, but slow and deliberate. His knuckles trace along my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. I press closer, aching to be folded into him.
One hand cups the nape of his neck as my lips part, my head tilting to deepen the kiss.
He lets out a groan, and fire ignites in my blood.
I pour into it every ache, every unspoken longing I’ve buried.
All that exists is the heat of his body pressed to mine, the taste of him on my tongue, mingling with the woodsy scent of his cologne mixed with the bitter winter air.
Everything I want is here with me—Anna is tucked into bed upstairs, and James is kissing me in this little Eden he created.
When his hands find their way into my hair, he pulls back, breathless and shaken. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” I kiss his dimple, his cheekbones, his temple, his mouth. “I know I’ve messed this up so many times. But I’m here now. Fully. Completely.”
I cradle his face in my hands, memorizing the texture of his rough stubble and sharp jaw. I’ve imagined touching them a thousand times, searching for the words to tell him the depth of my feelings. To give him the words he’s so freely given to me over the years.
“James, when I look at you, it feels like I’m finally breathing. You made me believe there was more to life than enduring it.”
He claims my mouth again. Goosebumps line my arms, and a shiver runs up my spine from his effect on me. From the bitter air.
“Come on, let’s get in the water. You must be freezing.” Without waiting, he reaches down, wraps his massive hands around my goose-pimpled backside, and my legs cinch around his waist. He carries me into the water, his mouth never leaving mine.
A whimper escapes at the assault of hot water combined with the hardness of him pressing against me. James tears his mouth away and floats to the far side of the hot tub. My chest heaves, taking in the hazy, dazed look in his hooded eyes.
“Wanna tell me what happened? Why are you all the way over there, and I’m over here?” The urgent edge to my voice has the corners of his mouth curling up.
“I thought you wanted to read tonight. Did you bring your book out with you?” he asks, his voice rough.
“I see how it is. Here I was thinking you might have something else on your mind.”
“Oh, I have a lot of things going through my mind.” He smirks and spreads his arms on the outside of the tub. “But I’m not going to do any of them to you—not here, not in this hot tub, not in this house.”
“What?” I scoff indignantly.
“I haven’t waited four years to have a quickie. I need a bed and a lot of time.”
“You can’t be very comfortable. Unless that was a hammer in your trunks.” I squeeze my legs together, trying to ease the ache, as I take in this man I’ve loved for so long, telling me he’s still willing to wait. He doesn’t want to rush.
“I am extremely uncomfortable. But I’m used to it. I’ve had years of managing being around you without being able to touch you.”
I lift my hips and sit on the edge of the hot tub, feeling the cool against my very exposed and very aroused skin. I shiver with anticipation, watching his eyes follow the beads of water trailing down my throat, between my breasts, along my stomach.