47. Foster
FORTY-SEVEN
FOSTER
“What is this place?” I ask, looking around the little A-frame cottage that sits at the back of the Hores’ property.
Sophie walks into the little living room and turns on a lamp. “My great-grandfather built it when he had hired help, then my parents moved in when they got married. I spent my first four years here,” she says, returning to me and taking my hand. “My mom thought that maybe we’d like to stay here tonight instead of in the house.”
“Should I be at all disturbed about why she thought that?” I pull her into me, brushing hair off her face.
“I’m not,” she says, rising to place a gentle kiss on my lips. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Can you just hold me tonight?”
“As opposed to?” I watch a delicious blush spread across her cheeks. “Sex?” I whisper
She rolls her lips, looking nervous. It’s so different from the woman who asked me to, and I quote, “fuck me awake” this morning.
“I’d do just about anything if I am doing it with you, Soph,” I admit. The blush deepens further, and I can see her effort to keep looking at me. She wants to look away so badly.
“What’s the exception?”
I wasn’t expecting her to ask this so I have to think for a minute. “Something terrible. I don’t want you to have to do anything terrible.”
“I survived your uncle. I think I could deal with anything now.”
I love you , I think.
“Think you can survive getting ready for bed and a night of extreme spooning?”
“I think I could win a gold medal in that event.” She beams.
“Foster?” she asks, her voice vibrating through my chest.
“Mmmm?” I say sleepily.
“I think you should know that I…” she trails off, and I feel the inhale and prepare myself for those words I have dreamed of hearing from her. “I’m so happy,” she finishes, and the little balloon of joy in my chest deflates a little.
I wrap my arms tighter around her. “I’m very happy to hear it.”
“Mr. Walsh?”
“Yes, Sophie.” I laugh at her impression of Pete.
“You’re amazing, did you know that?”
“I don’t know about amazing, but I’m starting to accept that I may be alright. Miss Hore?” I ask.
“Yes, Foster?”
“Will you go out on a date with me?”
“Obviously, you’re on for P.”
“Does today not count? It was a party after all.” I enunciate the P.
“I guess you’re right. What are we going to do when we run out of letters?”
I bury my face in her hair and breathe in deeply. Staying like this for the rest of time seems like a solid idea. “Start over again? Pick an alphabet from a different language? Greek, perhaps?”
“Food categories?” she suggests.
“Try different dishes until we’ve eaten them all?”
“Make different dishes?”
“You wanna cook more with me?”
“I’ll do just about anything if I’m doing it with you, Foster.”
“Oh my god!” Sophie squeals when she sees the tea ring on the table the next morning. “Did you make this?”
I shake my head. “As if I was going to leave the bed when you were in my arms,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her back into me.
“Did your grandmother?”
“I don’t think so. The pattern is different.”
When we approach, there’s a handwritten note next to the plate.
Good morning! I got this recipe last night and thought it would be a good time to test it out. Coffee’s fresh and there’s cream and milk in the fridge. Enjoy!
Love, Mom
“No way,” I whisper, rereading the note and studying the tea ring. “I cannot believe she shared the recipe with your mom.” She’d only just shared it with me on Easter.
“Nancy Hore is pretty persuasive,” Sophie says as she pulls a couple plates and mugs down from the cupboard.
Sophie does that thing again where she takes a bite of something delicious and moans, and all my senses zero in on it. A bomb could go off outside the door, and I wouldn’t have a clue.
“What?” she asks after swallowing.
“You do this thing when you like the taste of something. This little hum moan thing, and I’m pretty sure it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh yeah?” A wicked little smirk appears on her face, and I’m not sure if I should be terrified or turned on by it. I watch as she wipes her mouth and stands, approaching me slowly, a lioness stalking her very willing prey.
When she’s standing in front of me she bends, her lips millimeters from mine. “I bet I could make it hotter,” she challenges as she sinks to her knees, pulling the waistband of my boxers as she goes. “Hmmm.” She peers up at me through those long lashes. “I guess that did do something for you.”
“Everything about you does something for me,” I croak, watching as she leans forward and takes me in her mouth. The taste of the tea ring on my tongue and Sophie’s hot mouth around my cock is pure magic. This must be heaven because I can’t think of anything better. Then she fucking hums.
“So, is this real now?” Sophie asks from the passenger seat, staring at her hand twined with mine.
“Sunshine, this has been real since you agreed to have lunch with me.”
“That long ago, eh?”
“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, even younger according to my grandmother,” I admit.
“Liar.” Sophie laughs. “I would have known.”
“Sophie, I didn’t even know. And when I finally realized, I was too stuck in my own head to do anything about it.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” she says smugly.
“For what?”
“Being the one to do something about it.”