Forever After (AFFAIRYTALE Book 2) Page 8

  “Do you think you’re ready yet?” Grant asked as we stuffed the floaties into the shed, picked up the toys on the lawn and gathered all of the baby’s things. I stood up from where I was sitting beside my new little joy and could feel my heavy milk-loaded breasts hanging down in a perpetual state of discomfort. The vigorous moment from sitting to standing had triggered a waterfall of milk, soaking the maxi pads that now lined all of my bras—which were all new, beige and sixteen sizes larger than my old black, sexy, lacey bras. “It’s been six weeks.” He reminded me. “But no pressure sweetheart, only when you’re ready.”

  Only when I’m ready. Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that space between my legs as a place of pleasure after the recent burning tunnel of hell it has been transformed into. But I supposed it was time I got back in the saddle and take it for a ride.

  “You’re a good man and a good husband,” I said. “Or maybe you just have PTSD from what you saw. I’m not sure. But if I was you, I’d might never want to look down there ever again.”

  “Honey, you’re exaggerating,” he said as he stacked chairs and picked up a few random sticks in the yard. “I really don’t need to look down there anyway.”

  I gasped. It was funny and true, but not a joke I was ready to laugh at.

  “That’s not funny.”

  He was already behind me laughing and trying to wrap his arms around me. That he was still youthful, playful, with a libido and junk that worked like it always had made me feel worse.

  “Honey you know I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Really? You saw what happened.” I stood with my hands on my hips—which were still not the size I wanted them to be. How they could get so wide is a miracle only the Grand Canyon could understand. Plus, I’d gained nearly sixty pounds over the last nine months. Not the recommended fifteen to thirty. I gained sixty! I could float without a lifejacket.

  “If you don’t want to—”

  “That’s not what I said. I just said that things are not probably going to be the same down there. I fanned my hands up and down my body. “Look at this thing. I don't know whose it is, but they can come back and pick it up anytime ‘cause I’m fucking over it.”

  “You don’t have to worry about any of that. I don’t care.”

  “Yeah but I do care, that’s the problem. I like feeling myself. I like feeling skinny, I like being skinny. I do weight loss for a living. I can’t work or live like this.” The disgusted look on my face could have been a viral GIF for all eternity.

  “Honey you have plenty of time to get back in shape and you know how. If anyone knows how, you do. And you’ve done it before so don’t worry so much.” He wraps one leg around me. “Maybe it’ll feel good.”

  Oh my god. He’s such a guy.

  “What do we do? Where do we go? There’s people here tonight. I’m not having first-time-sex-after-birth with people in the room next door and a baby next to the bed. That’s just not my idea of romantic reconnection with you.”

  “Your mom said they would watch the baby for an hour if we wanted to go up to Willy’s?”

  “Are we really going up to Willy’s?”

  “Only if you want to. We can do whatever you like. But only if you’re ready. If you are, I have a special place in mind for us.”

  “Sounds sneaky. Secret spot?”

  “No. Have you seen that place? Looks like they’re starting construction soon, all the grass is cut back.”

  “Oh shit. Glad we went there when we could. Kinda sad it’s gone.

  “Me too.”

  Then I remembered how maneuverable and hot I was when we were there last and I was glad that place was not an option. If I had to go there now, all I’d be good for is being put out to pasture.

  “I was thinking,”—his eyes squinted and he grabbed my over-sized hips—“you could lean over the car.” Oh for fuck’s sake. “I know the perfect road. The moon is supposed to be full tonight.”

  I smiled. “You want me to bend over a car? For our first time having sex since the baby? Outside? In the moonlight?” It sounded like it sounded. Then I reminded myself, it’s totally Grant. Seize the day. Live in the moment. Dream big. “On the . . . side of a road?” I concluded with a hesitation in my voice that I knew would not deter him at all.

  “No one will be there. I promise.” In my mind I saw us scrambling into a poison ivy-filled ditch as a car drives by. Which is likely to happen no matter how much he thinks no one will drive by because that’s what people do on roads. One thing is for sure though, pre or post marriage, nothing is ever boring with him.

  Grant flashed me a charming grin and won his way into my sleep-deprived, exhausted brain that was hormonally imbalanced rendering me incapable of making a sound decision.

  “Okay,” I said wholeheartedly, but not really. Just trying to be a good sport until I felt myself again.

  “Think my mom will be okay with the baby?”

  “Of course. He’s easy. Just leave some breast milk.”

  “You think he’s easy but . . . I’ll go pump. Watch him?” I looked down at our little guy swaddled in white and blue elephants still sleeping on a blanket in the grass.

  “Of course.”

  Grant kisses me on the cheek, smacks my ass with a familiar feeling that he’s frisky and ready to ignite our sex life again.

  I was not feeling so sure about this plan.

  …

  “Thanks Mom!”

  “Sure. You bet. We’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she said holding the baby in her arms.

  We closed the cabin door, the warm glow of lights in nearing darkness was a familiar feeling but one I hadn’t experienced in a while. Since the baby, I turned into a pumpkin at seven o’clock. It felt good but scary to be venturing out after dark.

  I climbed into the passenger seat of my little silver SUV. The one I traded in my Beetle for a few months prior to the baby. Grant and I reluctantly said goodbye to that car together. Then agreed that our memories with it would live on. So I said goodbye to my one-child vehicle and moved on to another that could accommodate God knows how many more if he had his way.

  Grant drove by the old secret spot. We reminisced about how I wasn’t able to find room for my legs and a place to wedge my feet. We reminisced about how far we’d come. He put his familiar, slightly older, more mature hand on my unfamiliar, more dimpled leg.

  “Do you think there’s enough room in the back for us to lie down? I’m not sure I can swing it like I used to.”

  “I’m sure we can make it work. But what fun would that be?”

  Right. I should have known.

  And so, six weeks post baby number one, we took each other for a ride on a gravel road, in full moonlight (or I guess you could say three full moons were out that night) over the top of my new family car.

  It was just a taste of what life with him as a husband and dad would be like. As predicted, it could be summed up in just one word.

  Adventure.

  Chapter 18

  Forever After-Grant

  I’ve relocated our kitchen table downstairs into the little kitchenette area where the kids like to eat. This way I can turn my upstairs kitchen into a wine/piano bar clad with red barrel chairs and champagne colored globe pendants hanging down at different heights. I take a seat in the scarlet half circle that’s closest to the piano. If I sit here long enough Grant will come over and play me a song. For now, I have just a few more questions.

  C.J.: What is the most difficult thing to overcome in order to keep our marriage happy?

  Grant.: I haven’t even thought about it as being something to overcome. I’ve never even been there. That doesn’t make sense.

  C.J.: Ask me what I think is the most difficult thing to overcome in order to keep a happy marriage.

  Grant: What do you think it is?

  C.J.: Time. Time management or lack of it. When we have free time to be together there is so much else to do in our lives that we could easily let that
time be suffocated out. If that happens, we’re toast. ‘Cause we’re quality time.

  Grant: And physical touch.

  C.J.: Yes. We are.

  We’re making reference to the book The Five Love Languages. It reminds me of another book, Love and Respect.

  C.J. Do you want me to love you or respect you? Which one. Can’t pick both.

  Grant: I want you to love me.

  Stop. That is NOT what Love and Respect said he would say. It said all men want to be respected more than they want, or need to be loved. Have I married an anomaly?

  Grant: To demand respect means, like I will come to the island and you respect me baby.

  C.J.: What? What island? What does that mean? That does not make sense.

  Grant: Sure it does. You know, a group of people coming to an island and demanding the respect of the indigenous natives who live there.

  C.J.: How does that relate to a relationship?

  We are on different planets. I can’t even argue this one.

  Grant: You asked me a question. That’s my answer.

  C.J.: Have you been reading that Ancestors Tale today?

  Grant: Yes.

  Makes total sense now. Indigenous people, demanding respect, island conquistadores, political coup. Clearly all things related to his book and not romance and our conversation. But hey, that’s my man.

  C.J.: I would love to hear all about that four-thousand-page book but I think I’ll be dead and turned into a fully grown tree by the time you finish it. So let’s move on. What should a healthy relationship provide for the people in it?

  Grant: I think well . . . some sense of purpose. That you’re providing something the other person needs and wants and vice versa.

  C.J.: What do you need and want, baby?

  Grant: Oh you know what I want baby, a big, fat, wide, juicy—

  C.J.: Okay stop. I hold up a hand and bow my head. I get it. You want a big fat bag of dicks. We laugh. Well clearly that’s what you want since you wrote it on my grocery list this week.

  Grant thinks this prank is hysterical. Which it is. I too enjoy making a grocery list and sending him out the door with it. On which he will find surprises like can of cum, sack of wet pussies, etc. Whatever will make him drop his mouth in the store is what I’m aiming for. Trust me when I say, his creations are equal to or greater than mine in terms of cringe-worthy shock value. We both appreciate this disgusting, immature game. Still.

  C.J.: Based on our marriage experiences, what advice would you give people dating?

  Grant: Oh, I would definitely say don’t settle. But you have to do the hard work to get what you want.

  C.J.: Was I hard work?

  Grant: Very. And praying doesn’t work, fuck no, you make your fate. And that’s true with everything in your life. You don’t find purpose, you make purpose. You don’t find a good life, you make a good life. Then you live it. You live it to the best of your abilities.

  C.J.: I agree and I love you. How did we make each other laugh this week?

  Grant: Well we watched Curb Your Enthusiasm. And we watched videos of our children of course, that’s a hoot. And we’re having this conversation. We’ve laughed together here. We laugh in every conversation.

  C.J.: I know. Ninety-five percent of our conversations are laughable, inappropriate banter. It’s fun.

  Grant: It’s very fun.

  C.J.: How are we different?

  Grant: We’re different from most people in that the center of our lives isn’t religion or kids. We are the center. Everything else is outside you and I together.

  C.J.: I meant how are you and I different from each other? But your answer will do.

  Grant: Well then, you should have said that, but you didn’t. You said we. That’s you and me.

  I mock him in an immature mouthy way.

  C.J.: How are we similar?

  Grant: We’re probably similar in that you and I enjoy the same things; spending time with one another, doing exciting things. I just don’t get the feeling a lot of other couples have that.

  C.J.: I think we have just enough commonalities and the right amount of differences to keep things interesting and new.

  Grant: Yeah, interesting and new.

  This is an innuendo. Of course.

  C.J.: What is the one thing that makes you feel alive?

  Grant: The one thing or things?

  C.J.: Just answer it.

  Grant: I feel alive when we’re out doing things or away from things that drag us down. When we have experiences. Like hot yoga, sex, Alaska. There are so many different ones. I feel most alive when I’m least stressed.

  C.J.: Ahh, Alaska. Did you ever think you’d fall in love with Alaska like we did?

  Grant: I had a feeling . . .

  C.J.: Think we’ll live there one day?

  Grant: No, but I know we’ll spend time there.

  C.J.: Fine by me. What’s the first memory that comes to your mind about our trips to Alaska, besides the hike you mentioned earlier?

  He looks me up and down. I know what he’s thinking.

  That’s what I’m thinking too.

  Chapter 19

  Forever After-Alaska

  We touched down in Anchorage on our fifth wedding anniversary. I had no idea what to expect. I mean, I’d watched the Discovery Channel with documentaries about wildlife in Alaska, but until you see things with your own eyes, you don't really know the magnitude or scale at which those places have the potential to move you.

  Alaska was staggering in size and stunning in beauty. It was like Montana on steroids. The mountains were bigger, the rivers wider, the sky bluer, the air cleaner. Everything about Alaska caught my attention and left me wanting more.

  Our hotel room had a large picture window with a ledge wide enough to sleep on that overlooked the anchorage skyline. Since we live north of normal already, it was quite possibly the quickest and easiest travel day ever. Which meant we both still had some energy.

  So, while Grant was in the bathroom washing his hands and face and getting cleaned up, I was quickly stripping off all my clothes, throwing them back into my suitcase and slipping my fluorescent pink and silver tennis shoes back on so I didn’t have to touch the floor with my bare feet. I went to the window, stood on my tiptoes and bent over the ledge with my chin in my hands gazing out over the inspiring view.

  When I heard the door open and Grant walk out, I looked over my shoulder and said, “Honey, this view is incredible.” I was barely able to hold in my laughter that perhaps would not have looked so flattering from behind. But I did. I played it cool.

  He didn’t speak.

  He didn’t have to.

  I imagine he wasn’t looking at the skyline the way I was. “Hon, don’t you love this view?” I didn’t turn around, I just left what happened next up to him. I could hear the rustle of his clothes being stripped from his body, and the clink of his belt.

  He sauntered up and stood between my legs then caressed my bare skin from my neck all the way down my back. He was admiring me, adoring me, I could feel it in his touch. He let out a naughty little laugh, “This is the best view ever.”

  I’m not sure if that was the session where the Nuva Ring went missing or if it happened later in our vacation. Either way, it was lost and never found, sending me into a freak out about the possibility of being pregnant.

  We did do more than just have sex in Alaska though. We did what adventurers do. We drank coffee, didn’t use a map, asked locals what to do, then went and did it until we were done. We hiked a mountain so tall that three hours into our hike when I looked back over the ocean and surrounding land, the view was exactly the same. On the way back I collapsed a few cars away from ours. Literally hitting the wall three doors from home. Suicide peaks, as I found, out not only describes the mountains themselves but the trails leading to them.

  Through a very long, one-way tunnel, we were spit out on the other side into Whittier where we experienced what it felt like to be in
one of the most isolated cities in the world. I couldn’t believe we were just a boat ride away from Russia. We hiked an old, mossy forest blanketed with fresh snow, and contemplated the diminutive distance between where we were standing, and where Putin might be.

  We saw bald eagles, we ate fish and drank craft beer, stopped at every tiny coffee shop to fuel Grant’s increasingly alarming addiction and loved life like I have never loved it before.

  It’s these kind of adventures our souls long for and seek out. We understand each other best when we’re outside in nature. We talk, we don’t talk, we push on, we sit and stare and wonder and think. He carries me. I make sure we don’t forget to bring water. It’s all perfect and we both know how lucky we are that we’ve found a seamless fit in one another through this adventure we call life.

  I am grateful for this life beyond what I have the capacity to say through words. There was a time when I didn’t know if I would even be able to walk through it. A painful time in which if I hadn’t had Dani and Grant in my life, I may just have ended it—the pain was that unbearable at times. Now, eight years after I had back surgery, I have zero pain and will do everything in my power to learn from my mistakes and keep it that way.

  Dear C.J’s back,

  Sorry I broke you and called you a bitch. You were right. It was really me who was a big ol’ B. I didn’t know how much I was actually hurting you until it was too late. I thought what I was doing was just making you and I stronger. Someone had to push us, right? No pain, no gain, right? Push harder, run faster, lift more, be all you can be then go be some more, Goddamn it’s the American way! I didn't know how wrong those ideas were. But I do now. I know you were trying to tell me that attitude was wrong, stupid even. I wish I would have listened to you early on. I’m listening now and I care about you way too much to injure you ever again. I promise to spend the rest of my days treating you well and not abusing you. I will pay attention and listen to what you need. I’ll walk, stretch, eat right and maintain my weight. I’m begging you to forgive me and give me as many years without pain as you can. I could never survive going through that again. I promise to take care of you from here on.