Thirty-five
Lily
“You seem ridiculously happy,” Ebony teases, nudging my foot with hers.
I smile, taking a slow, appreciative sip of my tea. “I am.”
Ebony and I are lounging on the recliners in the enclosed patio of my house.
The weather is perfect today. The blue sky is free of clouds, and the sun will not stop shining.
It feels like a good omen, a message from the universe that brighter days are ahead.
While I have never been one to dwell on superstitions, I can’t help but notice how seamlessly everything has been falling into place lately.
“Care to share?” she asks eagerly.
I lean back against the patio chair. “Ethan and I went on a date.”
Ebony’s face splits into a grin so wide it looks like it might crack. “I knew it had something to do with him! You can’t stop smiling. It must have been one hell of a memorable night.”
I nod. It was amazing, but that word doesn’t even begin to cover it. He was perfect. The night was perfect.
Ebony lets out a small, ecstatic squeal, straightening up in her lounge chair. “Don’t you dare leave me hanging! I want every juicy detail. Now!”
“It was wonderful. We went to the drive-in, walked on the beach, and…” I pause, a blush creeping up my neck as I remember the way his lips felt against mine. The way he worshiped every part of my body and protected my heart. He was loving, supportive, kind, and sweet.
“And then… we made love. After that, we ended it by sleeping outside in the hammock,” I add.
Ebony’s eyes are shining with heartfelt warmth. “Oh, Lily. I am so, so happy for you. So, does this mean you have reconciled?”
“I think so. We haven’t really talked about it.”
“Maybe you won’t need to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Maybe you’re picking up right where you left off with him,” she explains. “And I’m not talking about after the divorce, or the messy bits. I mean the last memory you had of the two of you being truly happy.”
I wrap my hands around my mug, the heat seeping into my palms, and consider her words. The last memory of us being just us, before everything went sideways, was a day much like today.
We planned to have a lazy day, and we stayed in our pajamas, baked all kinds of sweets just because we could, and watched old movies, tangled up on the couch. With us, there never had to be a reason to spend time together. It was always Ethan and Lily.
Ebony might be on to something. Even though we ended on bad terms, the lingering bitterness was never enough to sever the invisible cord between us.
Regardless of time or distance, Ethan and I have always had this deep, unspoken bond that lets us bypass the bad memories.
Instead, we focused on the good times and how they made us feel.
But suddenly, the uncertainty and anxiety engulf me like a bucket of ice water. “What if… what if I don’t make it, Eb?”
Her lips curve downward. “We talked about this. Don’t you dare go there,” she says, her voice firm. “You’re going to beat this thing.”
“But what if I don’t?”
She shakes her head, a fierce denial in her eyes. “I can’t think that way, and neither should you.”
“Why not?” I ask. “I have to prepare for the worst. Not every love story has a happy ending, Eb.”
“Maybe yours does,” she says, reaching out to take my hand. “You and Ethan deserve a happily ever after. More than anyone I know.”
But deserving it does not mean we will get to have one. And I cannot keep convincing myself that I will beat this thing, because we don’t really know, do we? We have to wait for the time to come when fate will decide my future. Our future.
But even if I do not get my storybook ending, who says I cannot make the best of right now? It’s just like that saying: Live each day as if it’s your last.
And I am going to do exactly that.
Ethan
I blink awake to the lively notes of “Build Me Up, Buttercup” blasting from somewhere in the house.
What in the sweet hell is going on?
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I catch sight of a vibrant cupcake-shaped Post-it note perched on my nightstand, stuck to the screen of my phone.
Baking buddy needed ASAP. Dress code: pajamas only.
My lips tug upwards. What is my little Sunshine up to? I rummage through my drawer, pulling out a pair of plaid flannel bottoms and a plain white T-shirt. I quickly toss them on, then dash into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I bark out a laugh. Another Post-it, a bright pink square stuck on the door. Don’t forget your socks!
Slipping on a pair of socks, I leave my room. All the kids’ doors are ajar, beds neatly made and empty. Which means either they are downstairs or with their grandparents.
I jog down the stairs, eager to see what is happening, as the music grows louder. The scent of cinnamon and something sugary drifts up from the kitchen. I turn the corner, and there she is.
My Lily.
She moves with an ethereal grace in her soft, cotton, purple pants, a long-sleeved white shirt, and her feet clad in fluffy slippers. A periwinkle scarf covers her head.
I lean against the frame, my arms across my chest, watching her dance around the kitchen. It’s mesmerizing to see this sudden burst of energy, but these moments will not last forever. So, I am going to savor every second.
The track changes to “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch” by the Four Tops. She twirls around, spatula in her hand, and freezes when she sees me.
I chuckle. “Morning, Sunshine.”
She grins shyly. “Morning.” She points the spatula at my attire. “Glad you got the memo.”
“Kind of hard to miss the colorful notes.” I wink at her. “So,” I start, pushing myself off the frame. “What’s going on?” I make my way toward her until I am close enough to block her path.
I have a sense of where this is headed. She’s trying to recreate that day, the last moment before everything went to shit. The only difference is, now, after all this time, I want her even more.
“Well,” she stammers, a blush creeping up her neck.
“Well, what?” I tease.
“I…I…um.” She clears her throat, her gaze darting around the kitchen.
“Use your words, Sunshine,” I coax, my voice dipping a notch. I lean in, my gaze locking onto her winter-gray eyes. She takes a step back. Another, and then another, until her back meets the counter with nowhere else to go.
There has always been this force, a gravitational pull, that my body reacts to whenever Lily is around. It’s almost as if she is meant to be mine. Not even divorce can ever keep us apart forever.
My hands came up, resting on either side of her, caging her in. Her eyes hold a playful challenge, almost as if she expected this.
“I thought we could bake,” she whispers, her voice a little breathy.
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?” A slow, predatory smile curves my lips. “What if I told you I don’t want to bake, and that I have other ideas?”
She lowers her gaze, but I tip her chin up between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet my eyes again. “Don’t look away, Sunshine. Aren’t you curious to know what my idea could possibly be?”
Her teeth tuck in her lower lip, and my gaze drops to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “What did you have in mind?” she teases.
I glance to the side of the counter. A few ingredients are laid out, some in bowls, others still in their original packages. My eyes land on a small bowl of white frosting. Perfect.
I draw back just enough to reach it and feel the instant twitch of my dick.
Someone is not happy with the distance from Lily’s body.
Ignoring it, I raise the bowl to my nose and inhale deeply, confirming the sweet, familiar scent of vanilla.
“What are you doing?” she asks, watching me cautiously. I see the tell-tale swallow, the slight working of her throat. She is turned on.
I smirk. Good. So am I.
Dipping two fingers into the bowl, I scoop out a generous amount. With a slow, deliberate motion, I smear the cool, creamy frosting onto the delicate curve of her neck, just beneath her ear.
A small gasp escapes her. “That’s the only batch I made.”
“Well, let’s not waste it. Besides,” I murmur, leaning in until my lips are inches from her neck, “I bet it will taste even better on you.”
My head dips further, my tongue snaking out, licking the frosting from her skin. “Mm. Sweet. Delicious.” I suck gently on her skin, pulling at her flesh with a soft tug.
Her hands shoot up, raking through my buzz cut, and she drops her head back, offering me better access. My dick is rock hard, and I need my Sunshine now.
My arms slide beneath her legs, one hand cupping her ass, the other supporting her behind her knees, and I lift her effortlessly onto the counter. She lets out a cute yelp, quickly followed by a breathless laugh.
“I remember that day,” I tell her, my forehead resting against hers, our breaths mingling.
“Which day?” she whispers, her fingers brushing against the back of my neck.
“The last time we were happy,” I reply.
I hear her swallow a gulp, and I pull back to look at her. “I was hoping you would remember,” she says.
“I remember every single detail of our lives, Lily,” I admit, grabbing one of her legs, lifting it to my side, gliding my hand up and down her covered thigh.
Then her lips are on mine. It starts slow, a tentative exploration. I part my lips, and her tongue slides into my mouth. An electric jolt shoots through me. I grip the back of her head, holding her steady as I devour her mouth, with a fierce, hungry kiss.
She tastes like sugar and vanilla. Everything I want.
My sweet Sunshine.
“Ethan, are you listening to me?” Lily asks, kneading the flour-dusted dough.
After our make-out session, we got back to business. Lily had the entire day planned, so I did not want to ruin it, although my dick did not agree.
“Yes,” I lie.
“Then what did I say?” She glances over her shoulder at me.
I grip the edge of the counter, my gaze sweeping over her, taking in every curve before settling on her face. “Sorry, but you’re a little distracting,” I confess unashamedly.
She smiles and shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”
Shoving off the counter, I step closer until I am standing close behind her, invading her space. I can feel her breath stutter as she slows down the rhythm of her kneading.
Good to know I am not the only one affected.
My hands rest on each side of her, and I settle my chin on her shoulder. “What do you need me to do?”
She clears her throat, trying to regain composure. “You can start by mixing those ingredients behind you into a big bowl.”
“Are you sure?” I purr against her skin, and she responds with a playful elbow to my stomach.
I let out a grunt, half-chuckling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Just then, the song changes to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley, instantly taking me back to our last happy memory.
Instead of following her instructions, my arms slide around her waist, and I pull her to me, guiding her into a slow sway.
“What are you doing?” she says with a giggle.
“I can’t stand being away from you,” I admit.
“Aw,” she replies, swaying along with me. She places her flour-covered hands onto mine.
“Plus, I’m recreating that day,” I add.
Tears glisten in her eyes. “Ethan.”
“Hey,” I whisper, my thumb brushing against her cheek. “No tears.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Falling in love with me?” I tease, cupping one side of her face.
Her eyes flutter shut as she hums along with the melody. With a mischievous grin, I reach over, coating my hands in flour, then frame her face with my now white palms.
“Ethan!” she squeals, her laughter ringing out as she retaliates, dousing me in flour, and soon we are both laughing uncontrollably, completely covered in white powder.
She tries to dash around the island, but I am faster, catching her around the waist and pulling her close. Our foreheads press together, and we get lost in each other’s gaze, the music enveloping us in a dreamlike state.
Her hands return to my face, and I mimic her loving gesture. “I love you, Ethan,” she whispers, sincerity shining in her eyes.
I close mine, a smile blooming as I respond, “And I can’t help but love you, Lily.”
We seal our moment with a kiss, flour-coated hands still cradling our faces.
Nothing can shatter our magic bubble.
I won’t allow it.