Chapter 13 #2
She smirks as she sits on one of the stools at the island. I round the counter, dusting nugget crumbs from the stool onto my hand before sitting beside her.
“You ever think about having more?” I ask as I dump the crumbs onto a plate in front of me.
She shifts, taking a big sip from her wine glass.
Shite. I’m coming on too strong. Feckin’ eejit.
“I don’t think I could handle any more kids on my own. I love them, but I’m exhausted. What about you? Do you want kids one day?”
“At least four, maybe five.”
She spits out her wine, spraying me with chardonnay. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry!”
I grab her wrist before she can scramble off her stool. “If you want to spit in my face or my mouth, you only need to add it to the list.” I’m rewarded with the prettiest blush dusting her cheeks at my words.
“I… ummm… I should clean this up.” She looks down at the counter, stacking plates as she reaches for the discarded napkins the boys left behind.
“Pretty sure you got most of it on me, a chroí.”
“I should get something to clean your shirt with.”
“It’s white wine. Other than a few damp spots, I’m grand. I’d rather you sit with me while we have a moment to talk without wee ears around.”
“Okay.” She slowly leans back in her chair, and I tug her seat closer to me.
“That’s better.”
The smell of her fruity, floral scent hits my nose, instantly taking me back to the night we checked the first item off her list. I exhale, fighting the urge to pull her into my lap and kiss her senseless.
“I’ve always wanted a big family. My parents struggled to conceive, and giving birth to me nearly killed Ma.
She’d had several miscarriages and always considered me her good luck charm.
Da always talked about how important it was to carry on the family name, and I want to be able to do that for him.
And I love kids, and they seem to tolerate me. ”
Her body stiffens next to me, and I will her to look at me, wanting to search her eyes for the truth she’s hiding from me.
She doles out tidbits of herself like an iceberg, you think you’re getting it all at first glance, but under the surface it goes so much deeper than she’s willing to show.
There’s way more to her than what she shares, but I’ve caught glimpses of her here and there, and I really like what I see.
“I hope you get that one day,” she says, staring into her empty wine glass, and I don’t like her tone. It feels like she’s pulling away from me, and I’m not sure why.
“Did I say something that upset you?” I place a hand on her arm, and she stares at it like it might burn her.
“No. I’m just thinking about everything I have to do once I get these two monsters down for bed.” While there may be some truth to that statement, I can tell there’s more going on in that pretty head of hers, but I let it go, squeezing her forearm once before releasing it.
“I can help,” I offer.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to.” She stands and carries the plates and silverware to the sink. “I’m going to go start the bedtime ritual. It’ll probably take me about an hour with their bath now because of Micah’s cast and the mess Levi made of his hair. You don’t have to stay.”
It’s brief, but I see a flicker of something in her eye. Besides the sadness, there’s a glimmer of hope, maybe? Or longing? Her gaze lingers on my lips for a second before she turns and heads for the stairs.
“Lucy.”
She stops, refusing to turn around.
“I’ll wait for ya.”
Her head peeks over her shoulder and turns ever so slightly in my direction.
“If you need an hour to put them down. I’ll wait. Go do what you need to do. But I’ll be here when you’re done.”
“Why would you do that?”
“So I can give ya a proper kiss good night. This is a date, after all.”
She nods once, giving nothing away, and then hurries up the stairs.
I survey the living room and kitchen, taking in the mess. I smile to myself as I remember all the times Ma would get on to me for not picking up after myself, and Da would say that the best memories are messy ones. I feel like we made some good memories tonight.
When I see the toy bin in the corner of the room, I decide to clean up the play area. She said she had a lot to do once she got the boys to bed, so maybe I can take some of the burden off her.
I’m not sure if there’s a system for storing all this shite, but I do my best to cram it all in the bin.
When it’s clear there’s too much to fit, I pull out some of the larger toy trucks and line them up neatly in front of the toy box.
It takes a lot longer to clean the room than I expected, and despite my extensive workouts in the gym, my back aches from all the bending over.
How does she do this by herself every day? I’m in awe of this woman.
I head over to the kitchen next, gathering up any stray snack cup or plate I see on my way.
I hand-wash the dishes I used to cook our meal and all the other dishes that were lying about, and then I try my best to figure out where they go once they’re dried.
How can two tiny humans dirty so many dishes in a day?
There’s a lot of laughter coming from upstairs, and I chuckle to myself each time I hear Levi shout the word “penis” at the top of his lungs.
I know she said that she doesn’t want more than just sex, but my heart cracks a little thinking about the fact that they’re up there and I’m down here by myself. We had a good time together tonight, and I want to show her that I’m serious about her and her boys.
Hanging out with Lucy and her kids gives me the same rush of feelings I get around my folks. Like a weight is lifted from my chest. Like the scary shite I have to do at my job is worth it when I get to spend my off days with them. Like I belong to something bigger than myself.
Once the dishes are put up, I wipe down the counters, taking extra time to clean some sticky syrup puddles off the kitchen table. I’m scrubbing furiously, moving my hand back and forth, putting as much elbow grease as I can into it. “Feckin’ hell, this fecker is a tough one to rub out.”
“Oh my God, what are you doing?”
Lucy’s voice startles me, and I whip around, sponge in hand.
“Oh shit, you’re scrubbing the table,” she says, sounding relieved as she places a hand on her chest. I watch as her tits heave in her shirt.
“There was dried syrup. What did you think I was doing?”
“Well, you had your back to me, your arm was moving in a repetitive motion, and you were mumbling about rubbing one out.” She makes a jacking gesture with her hand in front of her crotch.
“Jesus Christ.” I drop the sponge and put my hands up in defense.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says as she breaks out into a fit of laughter, the sound warming me from the inside out.
I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her as I pull her into my chest. She comes willingly for once but goes rigid when her gaze swings to the living room.
“Where are all the toys?”
“I put as many as I could in that bin, but the vehicles that wouldn’t fit are lined up next to it.”
She looks at the sink. “And the dishes?”
“Washed and put away. I think I found where they all go, but apologies if you can’t find something tomorrow.”
She places her hands on my chest and pushes me back, taking in the rest of the kitchen. “Did you clean and wipe down my counters too?”
I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly feeling like I fucked up. “Aye.”
Two beautiful emerald eyes fix on mine, and I feel like I can finally exhale. The sadness is gone in her pupils, and she steps closer. I grip her hips, pulling her flush with me. She looks at me with so much longing, and I revel in it, relieved to see her peel back some of her armor.
When her eyes linger on my lips, I lean down, slowly going in for the kiss I’ve been dying to take since the day I met her.
“New rule,” she says, her voice soft and breathy.
“What’s that?” I ask, inching closer.
“No kissing.”
I pause, hovering inches from her mouth. “Then you better stop looking at my lips like you want to devour them.”
She untangles herself from my arms and takes a step back, leaning against the counter. “Why?” she asks, looking around the rest of the kitchen.
“You ask that question more than Levi does,” I tease.
A small smile lights up her face as her mouth drops open in mock indignation. “You take that back.”
“Is it so hard for you to believe that someone would want to spend time with ya?”
“In case it wasn’t obvious, men aren’t exactly lining up at my door to take me out.
And the ones that might be interested, well, my kids scare them off real quick.
I come with a harsh dose of reality in the form of two energetic, wonderful little boys, and they’re a lot for people to tolerate.
Not even my dad treats them like they deserve.
And if they don’t scare someone off, my baggage usually does. ”
“The right person won’t merely tolerate them, you know that, right? Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places for these guys.”
“I’m not looking, period. I don’t want my boys to get attached to someone that isn’t going to stick around.
I know I have a lot of baggage, and I haven’t felt the same in my body since I became a mom.
My clothes are too tight, I carry weight in new places, and the intrusive thoughts in my head are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
When I’m not worrying about fucking my kids up for life, I’m thinking about what an awful mother I am, how I’m not good enough, how I have no clue what I’m doing when everyone else seems to have figured it out, and how I’m too afraid to ask for help out of fear that I’ll be seen for the fraud that I am. ”
There’s no truth I can offer her that she’d accept right now, so I tug her against me and give her a hug, squeezing tight. She fights me at first but gradually relaxes in my arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Hugging you.”
“Because you feel sorry for me after I word-vomited all my scary thoughts?”
“No. I appreciate your honesty more than you know. I gather it takes a lot for you to feel comfortable sharing stuff like that. But I honestly like helping people. It’s a big reason why I became a firefighter and a paramedic.
And I can’t help someone if I don’t know what’s wrong.
And now that I know what you need, I’m hugging you. ”
“And what do you think I need?”
“I think you need to feel cared for because you spend so much of your time caring for others. I cleaned up so you didn’t have to. And I think you need to lower your stress and blood pressure so I’m hugging you.”
“So why aren’t you letting me go?”
“Because ten seconds into a hug, oxytocin is released. And studies show that at twenty seconds, your stress and blood pressure decrease as more oxytocin and dopamine are released.”
“I think it’s been twenty seconds,” she grumbles.
“This is really hard for ya, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea.”
“I’ll start counting once you fully surrender. Right now, this isn’t a hug, you’re just trapped in my arms.”
“Fine.” She places her cheek against my chest, and as I count in my head, I slowly feel her relax against me. A few seconds in, I feel her arms wrap around my lower back, and I smile against the top of her head.
When I get to twenty, I wait for her to let go, and when she doesn’t, I hold her for a while longer, basking in this moment.
“Okay. I think I’m good,” she says, dropping her hands.
I search her eyes, enjoying the look of peace I find. “How do you feel?”
“I do actually feel better.” She places her hands on my chest, holding my gaze.
I couldn’t look away if I tried. I want her to look at me like this every day.
“Can I at least repay the favor?” she asks, starting to lower to her knees as her hands drag slowly down my abdomen, stopping on my belt.
“That’s not why I did all this,” I say, gripping her wrist and pulling her up.
“Are you actually turning down a blow job?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather kiss your lips,” I admit.
The hurt look on her face stabs at my chest.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy that,” I rush to assure her.
“I would. Immensely. But right now, I want the one thing you’re not willing to give me.
And while your lips wrapped around my cock is something I will fantasize about while I jack myself in the shower tonight, I’d rather kiss you until you’re gasping for air, so consumed by my lips on yours that you’ll want to throw away all your rules and restrictions. ”
“Oh.” She blinks up at me. “We shouldn’t.”
I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Thank you for tonight. I had fun.”
Not wanting to wear out my welcome, I turn and head for the door.
“Tomorrow!” she calls out, halting me as my hand grips the brass doorknob.
I turn around to look at her. “What’s tomorrow?”
“The boys have a playdate in the evening for a few hours.” She twists her hands in front of her. “If you want to grab dinner or whatever, I have some free time.”
“I would love to take you out. Let me know when, and I’ll be there.”