38. Caden
Caden
My kitchen has never been messier. A dozen little bowls—ones I bought and never used until tonight—with remnants of tonight’s late dinner are strewn across the long island. The baby monitor’s plugged in in the corner.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relaxed.
“You’ve ruined frozen pizza for me forever.” Fia throws herself back onto my sofa dramatically.
It makes me laugh. “I’m sorry?” I plop down next to her.
She lolls her face towards me, half buried in the throw pillows, and smiles lazily.
We made homemade pizza tonight. I made dough from scratch while she fed, bathed, and put Daisy to sleep. It was tedious work, but there was only one acceptable way to give her a pizza night—I had to go all out.
Matt would call me a human bulldozer.
When my hands were kneading sticky dough, I would’ve called myself insane.
Fia has yet to complain about my ways, however.
Music plays through the speakers, and my house actually feels cozy—something I never would’ve said until this girl came into my life.
“Damn, it’s windy out there.” I sit up, peering out the window into the yard. The cushions on the lounge chairs are sliding off from windy gusts, and the umbrella teeters at an angle.
“Shit, I need to put that down.” I bounce up, tossing my phone on the coffee table next to Fia’s. She follows me, slipping on sandals by the door.
We step into the dark yard together as a storm brews above. The air is thick with impending rain, and the tops of the tall pines sway along with the string lights over the patio.
“This came out of nowhere.” I jog towards the umbrella, cranking it down as the wind picks up, and glance up at the night sky, dark as the inky ocean.
Fia grabs the cushions from the lounge chairs, rushing to stuff them into the outdoor storage container.
Her long red hair blows across her face, and she tries to move it, but thunder claps in the sky, making Fia jump. Then she laughs, and it’s the sound of pure joy.
A sound that makes me stop what I’m doing.
Fia kicks off her sandals as the sky opens, the first raindrop falling, hitting my skin without a sound. She runs into the grass, arms open wide, head back, twirling in a shirt she borrowed from me and cotton sleep shorts.
Standing there, muscles still tense, all I can do is watch.
Thunder booms and she yelps, but it’s followed by another laugh. Then buckets of warm summer rain fall, drenching us in seconds.
Fia’s gray shirt clings to her slender frame, her hair soaking as she continues to spin in the muddy grass.
“What are you doing?” I yell over the deafening rain, blinking as droplets collect on my lashes.
Fia stops, staring at me through the dense sheets of rain, drowning out my thudding heart. “What does it look like! I’m dancing!” She lifts her arms above her head, elegant and long. “Get over here—don’t make me do this alone!“
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” I shout back.
She shakes her head.
Fia runs up to me with an arm extended. She’s close enough I can see the droplets of rain running down her cheeks, the spark in her emerald eyes.
“You’re wrong—I feel extraordinarily alive,” she says and I swallow, rendered speechless.
I have no resolve left as she pulls me into the yard and like a magnet I follow. Fia grabs my hands, trying to twirl us, but I squat down to pick her up by her thighs and hike her in the air above me.
Fia shrieks, a smile brighter than the sun on her face.
I spin her around, unable to contain my heart pounding through the wet bones of my rib cage.
Her body slips down against mine, warmth pooling everywhere our skin connects. Her wet shirt rides up, exposing the expanse of her tan stomach and lacy green bra. Fia’s smile is gone, replaced with something serious.
But then lightning strikes, and instincts kick in to protect her. With our fingers laced together, I pull her behind me until we’re under the slanted roof in front of the guesthouse door.
She pulls her hand from mine and knots the front of my soaked T-shirt in her fingers. My back barely shields her from the rain coming down sideways.
My gaze dips to her chest, rising up and down slowly. She leans back against the black door, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Caden,” she says, her voice throaty and low.
I snap my eyes to hers, drowning out the rest of the world. “Hmm?”
“Kiss me.”
Her chest continues to rise with every controlled breath, her green eyes searching my stormy ones. Dragging my hand through her wet hair, I hold the back of her neck and pull her close to me.
A tiny gasp escapes her lips before I capture them with my own. She rocks her hips against me, arms snaking down to my hips. She pauses, pulling back, locking me in her gaze. Fia reaches behind her, opening the guesthouse door.
I lift my lips into a crooked grin, and Fia’s eyes fill with lust.
We stumble inside together, shutting the storm out.
It’s quiet besides the sound of the rain tapping on the roof. Daisy is safely asleep in the room behind us.
Right now, it’s just us . . . my arms draped around Fia’s neck, pulling her into me, her mouth on mine, her tongue against my lips, her fingers fumbling with the zipper on my shorts.
Water rolls off our bodies, puddling on the floor below, but I can’t focus on anything except the woman in front of me.
Fia pulls her mouth away, her lips pink and swollen, and holds a finger to her mouth, reminding me to be quiet, before she takes my hands and leads me down the short hall towards her bedroom.
It’s dim as we stumble in. Fia covers her mouth to stifle a laugh as she backs into the bed, falling onto it clumsily.
My eyes roam the small dim bedroom. The bed is messy and unmade; piles of clothes and books sit in the corner, and seashells are scattered across the dresser top.
This room is her.
It’s everything I love about her.
Like the way she doesn’t hide who she is. She is a vivid expression of everything beautiful.
“I love the sound of your laugh,” I whisper, leaning over her to pepper her neck with kisses. Fia doesn’t reply, tracing me with her eyes as I pull the hem of her damp shirt over her head and unclip her bra, dragging it off her.
I kiss both of her breasts gently, and she gasps, arching into me.
“And every curve of your body . . .” I murmur, moving my mouth down her damp, toned stomach, nipping at her hip.
She props herself up on her elbows. “I don’t want you to stop . . . I want everything,” she says with a strained voice, running her hands down my arms.
The words are a key, unlocking what I’ve been holding back. “Everything?”
She nods, lips between teeth. “Give me everything.”
She works on pulling my shorts off, and in moments, my hard length is pressing into her stomach.
Without hesitation, Fia reaches down, stroking me.
“Fia . . .” My eyes roll back and my chest flexes under her soft touch. “Shit.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “The condoms are in my house.”
“I have an IUD, it’s okay.” She nudges my face back towards hers. “I just want to be close to you.”
My voice is strained as I say okay and reach down to pull her hand away from me. Her eyes go wide as I pull her arms up above her head, taking control.
Fia licks her lips, begging me with her eyes to keep going.
Tortuously slow, I take my time to kiss every inch of her skin, until she is melting under me, digging her nails into my back.
Every single line blurred between us as we move as one between the silk sheets, the storm roaring outside.
As I move inside of her, and Fia moans my name, her body shudders around me, and we collapse together, tangled in each other’s limbs.
She presses her mouth gently to my shoulder before closing her eyes, her breathing softening, and it’s then that I realize my heart no longer belongs to me.
But I don’t want it back; I never want to go back to before.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I start as she lightly traces circles on my chest.
“I’m listening,” she replies sleepily.
“I wish you weren’t moving back so soon. Two weeks feels like a blink,” I say, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
“I know . . . me too,” she replies, her voice muffled by the covers.
There’s a sadness in her voice, one I haven’t heard before, one I didn’t expect. I pull her in tighter to me, and the rain outside turns to a drizzle.
I stare into the darkness—I have to tell her.
Even if it breaks her heart, it’s temporary.
Just like living here always has been.
I have to tell her the truth . . . that in five days, her house will be ready.
“Fia.” I whisper her name, but she doesn’t respond. Her eyes are closed, her face at peace.
I sigh, ruffling my already messy hair, and sink further into the bed.
I’m not leaving her tonight, and tomorrow when we have our cookout, I will tell her what Eddie told me today—they are finishing the job early.
And next week, I’ll take her to see the house, show her all the things I did for her, and hopefully, it will ease her stress. Hopefully she’ll be excited to be home.
There’s one more truth I need to tell her: that even though she’s moving home, it changes nothing for me.
I can’t live without her.