Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Ronnie
Miraculously, I wake up before Jimmy on Christmas morning and it’s a good thing. I need to be alone with my overexcited hormones mixing with my emotions every time I think of Sean and his hands and mouth on me, and his heart and warmth filling me.
After one cup of coffee and running endless loops of blissful moments shared with Sean through my head, Jimmy gets up. His beaming face anticipating Santa’s visit ends the havoc of my hormone-spiked nerves.
“Look, Mommy, look what Santa left.” He runs to the tree, skidding to a stop on his knees to attack the four wrapped gifts waiting for him.
I’m so proud I could treat him to all these gifts this Christmas, but a spike of guilt strikes because I know I owe a lot to Sean.
Even if he did insist I’d earned the money by dog-sitting, I know he overpaid me.
Or at least paid me on the upper end of the scale.
Garino insists that the fees were legitimate and not inflated, but I don’t know if I can trust her anymore when it comes to Sean Patrick.
Watching Jimmy rip off the wrapping paper and jump around excitedly at seeing the giant truck he wanted so badly wipes everything but pure happiness from my mind and heart.
Eventually, it comes time for me to open the one gift left wrapped under the tree.
It’s the one from Sean with my name on it.
I open the finely wrapped gift and find a new Cuisinart mixer, the latest and greatest model with all the attachments.
I sigh and pet it like a kitten. Even Jimmy is impressed with it.
“You can make lots of cakes with this, Mommy.” Then he reaches his hand inside the bowl and pulls out an envelope. “What’s this?” he hands it to me. My name is written on it in Sean’s bold handwriting.
“It’s a note from Sean.” Another note. I love his notes and I find myself ripping the envelope open with more anticipation than I unwrapped the gift. To my surprise and small disappointment, I find a type-written letter from Louie, the owner of the restaurant, Louie’s.
“What’s it say, Mommy?” Jimmy climbs on my lap, leaning in to see the words over my shoulder and his face screws up. “It doesn’t look like Sean’s note.”
“You’re right, honey, it’s not a note from Sean.” I clear my throat as I force myself to read it, trepidation mixing with overwhelming curiosity, scaring me and making my hand tremble as I hold the paper. I read the words.
Skimming the page for the third time, I look for the catch, but I can’t find it. Louie wants to buy cakes from me for his restaurant. There’s another paper and I take it out with shaking hands. It’s a confirmation of enrollment in a pastry school.
Tears run down my cheeks now because it’s the most generous and perfect thing anyone has ever given me.
And I can’t accept it.
Not because it’s too much for him to give me, because I know he has the money and I know he gets pleasure out of giving gifts.
I can’t accept it because I can’t afford to leave work to go to pastry school.
I can’t afford to do both at the same time because that would take too much time away from Jimmy.
I need to keep Jimmy first in my priorities and give him my attention while I earn a living because he has no father or grandparents or siblings to care for him and I could never afford child care.
The shelter has been perfect for balancing the need to work with the need to be there for Jimmy. There’s no way I can do both work and cooking school. Not until Jimmy is much older. By then I’ll have money saved up—maybe—so that I can afford tuition on my own.
There’s another envelop labeled Jimmy. I open it, holding my emotions together.
“Jimmy, Sean has another gift for you.” I pull the contents from the envelope.
Season tickets to the Militia football games for next year. Shit.
Jimmy would be thrilled, but I hide them from him.
“What is it, Mommy?”
“It’s … tickets to a game,” I say. I can’t lie. How do I feel about season tickets? Next Season? That smacks of a future that I’m far from certain about. I’m so mixed and confused.
But one thing is certain, I can’t withhold Sean’s gift from Jimmy. If I put Jimmy first, I can’t deny him the opportunity to go to the games next season. Can’t deny him the opportunity to have Sean as a mentor, no matter what happens between Sean and I. No matter if nothing happens between us.
Anything could happen between now and next season, good or bad, but if I hold back Sean’s gift, I can see only bad things happening.
I give him the tickets with the new Boston Militia sweat shirt in his size, not too big and not too small.
“Can I wear it now?” I nod and watch him rip the gorgeous quality official NFL gear from the box and put it on over his pajamas.
“This is the best gift, Mommy.” He throws his arms around me and I hug him back.
“It’s not from me,” I say quietly. “But I’ll take a hug any time from you.”
“I know it’s from Sean. But it’s from you too.”
“How do you figure that?” I laugh, amused at how his little kid brain works and curious.
“Because he really likes you. I think he wants you to like him so he’s being really nice to me. Remember that other guy—”
“I know what you mean.” I cut him off. I’m not sure what other guy he’s going to bring up because there was more than one guy from the rooming house who tried using Jimmy to get me to warm up to him.
None of them comparable to Sean Patrick in anyway.
They weren’t genuine the way he is. Sean never planned on meeting Jimmy or me. It was all so spontaneous.
“Don’t you think Sean likes you for you, honey?”
“Sure. But not as much as he likes you. Garino thinks so too. I asked her. Don’t you like him back, Mommy?”
My smile is automatic. “Sure I do. What makes you think I don’t?”
He shrugs and some of the bright Christmas morning cheer goes out of him. It’s the last thing I want to see.
“Tell me honey.” I lift him onto my lap as I sit on the couch. He’s getting big, but I still love cuddling with him this way while I can.
“He was mad. You didn’t want to talk to him.” He looks down. “Did he do something bad?”
I lift his chin to look into those innocent eyes hoping like hell that his perceptive child’s mind hasn’t picked up on my paranoia, my fearful outlook on the world, but I wonder.
“No, he didn’t do anything bad.” The opposite. He’s been too good. But how do I explain that to a child. He wouldn’t understand. He’d think I was silly.
Maybe he’d be right.
His face brightens instantly, as if Santa himself appeared in the room. My mood brightens too, so wedded to his welfare.
“Yay! Does that mean we can go over to his house for Christmas dinner?” He looks at me with hope and joy and I feel like a Grinch instantly with the word no automatically poised on the tip of my tongue. Instead I hold my tongue.
Why am I assuming the worst will happen? Why shouldn’t I trust Sean who’s given me no reason to distrust him? Because it’s happened before? And what kind of people were those people?
I should be smart enough and mature enough and experienced enough to distinguish the good from the bad.
Sean isn’t perfect, but I shouldn’t judge him based on my experience with the likes of my uncle the degenerate gambler and my so-called husband, the transient who wanted to use me to get a visa.
And for sex. Bad sex compared to Sean. No heart in it compared to Sean.
Heat spreads from my core as I think about sex with Sean. It’s like taking a trip to heaven, sending ripples of pleasure through me now just on memories.
Jimmy tugs on me. “Well Mommy? Can we? Pretty please?”
“Why do you want to go to his house for Christmas dinner, Jimmy?” Maybe I want him to talk me into it. Maybe I need to listen to the wisdom of an innocent child.
“Because I like him,” he scoffs, sounding like he thinks I’m being silly. “Besides I want to see Dasher. And I like his house. He has cool stuff.”
“You shouldn’t like people for their stuff, Jimmy.” This is what I don’t like. I don’t want Jimmy being seduced by material things.
“What do you mean, Mommy? I like Sean because he’s fun. He’s nice to me. He likes me too. And Dasher.”
I hug him in for saying the exact things I need to hear without even knowing it.
The phone rings then and my nerves jump. I kiss Jimmy on the forehead and lift him aside. He quickly scrambles to play with his new trucks as I answer the phone on the third ring, my whole body shivering with nervous energy.
“Hello,”
“You mean Merry Christmas, don’t you?” Sean’s happy voice booms and I laugh.
“You’re right, it is a Merry Christmas. Thank you, Sean. Your gifts are so special, to both Jimmy and me.”
“I’m glad, Ronnie. That means a lot to me.” He clears his throat and I hear voices in the background. “Special enough for you to grant me a special wish?”
“It depends. What kind of wish do you have in mind?” My voice deepens to a flirty tone because my mind goes to the naughty side of the wish list and I feel my face heat up, probably turning pink. I turn away from Jimmy.
“Oh, are we thinking naughty thoughts? For once I was thinking of something totally innocent.”
I laugh because I can hear the smile in his voice and because I have so much pent up sensual tension, I feel giddy.
“What is it then? What wish could you possibly have that I could grant?”
“Now that’s a loaded question if I ever heard one. Maybe I should re-think my answer.”
“Stop it,” I giggle. “Tell me what you want. I want to please you.” Oh my God. Did I just say that? It’s true and as much as I want to take it back, I can’t.
“Good to know,” he says in a decidedly aroused voice, all gravelly and low and erotically masculine. If I wasn’t turned on before, I am now and I’m ready to give him anything. God, I’m so easy.
And so not. But there’s something about him that’s good and decent, that’s worthy of me letting down my guard against.
“Come over today. Have Christmas dinner with me.”
“What about your family.” I know they’re there. I can hear them and the thought of meeting his family scares the hell out of me. Because even if Sean thinks I’m worthy of him, I sure as hell know his family won’t.
“They’re here too. But it won’t be the same without you. You’re my girl, Ronnie.”
“You’re girl?”
“Okay, my woman.”
“What are you saying, Sean?” My heart is beating a hole in my chest, trying to escape.
“I’m saying I want you to be… my girlfriend. You and Jimmy are special to me if you haven’t noticed. I want to have a committed relationship, share my holiday with you, my family, football games, my bed.”
“In that order?” Of all things I could say, I don’t know how my spinning mind landed on that. Hearing him say the words fills my chest, gives me a heady feeling I’ve never known before.
He laughs. “Not in that order.” He pauses and I hear him breathing and moving and then the background noise disappears. “Ronnie, how do you feel about me? Honestly? Do you have any interest? I know you don’t like the fact that I have money. I’m sorry if it makes you feel inferior, but you’re not.”
“I know I’m not inferior.” And I realize it’s true. “I just have a hard time believing you would know that.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I know. It’s complicated, Sean.” I sigh, knowing it’s a lame cowardly answer. Taking a deep breath, I force myself across the line of bravery, knowing I could be committing emotional suicide. “Okay, I like you. More than like you. I adore you, Sean. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Why?” he asks, his voice raspy and mesmerizing and I can practically feel his breath whispering in my ear, feel the heat of him near me.
“Oh God, you do such things to me. You’re so kind and generous. You’re so hot and gorgeous. And…”
“And?”
“Who doesn’t love a man who loves kids and dogs?”
“And?”
“And you make me laugh and sigh and want to be a better person, braver and smarter and more confident.”
“That’s the gold I wanted to hear, Ronnie. Because that’s how you make me feel. Like I want to be a better person. Someone more genuine and tougher and more selfless and—”
“Don’t get carried away,” I say on a laugh, feeling like beams of sunlight are shooting through me.
“And more self-disciplined and humble,” he adds, a smile in his voice.
“I grant your wish,” I say. Because there’s no other answer that’s right. I know this now, I feel the rightness settle through me, calming me, easing my nerves.
“Fan-fucking-tastic—pardon my French. I’ll come over and pick you up. When can you be ready?”
Panic returns for a flash because I’m in my pajamas and robe and I literally have nothing to wear to meet his parents on Christmas. Jeans and a Militia shirt? Flannel shirt? I don’t think so.
“I… don’t know.” Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I take another step toward bravery. “I have nothing to wear, Sean, except what I had on last night or old tattered clothes and a Militia jersey.”
“You’re a naughty girl. You were supposed to spend some of the money you’ve been earning on yourself. But never fear. I knew you wouldn’t, so I have another gift for you—from Santa.”
“Another—”
“No complaints about me being too generous. You can’t deprive me of the privilege of playing Santa on Christmas day.”
“No, I guess I can’t.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Have Jimmy ready—he won’t mind, will he?”
“Are you kidding? He’ll be thrilled. He’s your number one fan.”
“Good. Because it’s mutual. And I’m kind of crazy about his mother too. She’s a hot mamma.”
I laugh and we end the call, but the feeling that swells in me feels so complete, like this is the beginning.
A new beginning for me and for us. No sense of fear or dread encroaches, no anxiety over being dependent invades.
Nothing can spoil my sense of well-being iin this moment because no matter what Sean does or says, he can’t take away my independence unless I give it to him.
Most of all, I know he doesn’t want to take it away. He’s given me a gift that says he respects my independence, a chance to flourish at what I love doing, at what gives me a sense of identity and satisfaction. Even if it is only baking cakes. Today cake, tomorrow the pastry world.
And if I’m brave enough to keep risking it, maybe every day with the hottest field goal kicker in the NFL holding my hand, making me laugh and making me and Jimmy whole.