I awake easily the next morning, weak sunlight dappling through the curtains. I keep my eyes closed, not moving, just savoring the feeling of being home again. No papers to sign, no interns to manage, no museums to negotiate with for priceless relics. Just me in my old bedroom, comfortable and warm. Well, not just me.
Justin stirs slightly behind me and I can’t fight the smile that tugs at my lips. His arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, knees tucked up behind mine, his front melded to my back, cocooning me completely with his body. His breath fans steadily against my naked shoulder as I snuggle back into him, my hands smoothing over his forearms. He squeezes me gently, a derisive sound coming from his throat as he buries his face in my hair. If there is one thing that has never changed about Justin, it’s the fact that he hates to be woken up before he’s good and ready.
I crack my eyes open finally, the clock on the bedside table reading nine-thirty. It’s then that I can hear my parents bustling around downstairs. I can imagine my mother getting things from the refrigerator as she starts breakfast and my father sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. A normal Wednesday morning for them.
I should be getting up. If I know my father he’ll be up here any minute to rip the blankets off me, hollering jovially that its time to start the day. Justin shifts behind me and I feel him pressing into my lower back. I shiver. Yeah, I definitely need to get up.
I pull myself from Justin’s arms, heart tugging as he whines pitifully, trying to keep a hold of me. When I stand up, he loses his grip and his arms fall to the bed heavily, weighed down by sleep. He growls lightly curling into himself and I grab the quilt, tugging it up over his exposed shoulder and he burrows down, sighing contentedly, falling back into a heavy sleep.
I step into the bathroom, showering and dressing before stepping out into the room again. I giggle when I see that Justin is nothing but a ball of covers in the middle of the bed, one pillow pulled firmly over his head. I lean over him, pulling the pillow away and see little tufts of brown curls peeking out from under the blankets, half of his forehead and one eye, tightly shut, barely visible. I smile, fluffing his hair gently and he stirs, a derisive sound pulling from his throat as he cracks one eye open.
“S’it time to get up?” he slurs, his voice thick with sleep as he cranes his neck, looking around the room blearily.
I shush him gently, running my hand over his hair soothingly. “No, you sleep,” I whisper softly, pressing a kiss to his ear, my fingernails scratching at his scalp gently. He presses his head into my hand. “I’m just going downstairs.”
He hums in response, rolling onto his stomach and glaring at his pillow before snatching mine and burying his face in it, inhaling deeply before heaving a contented sigh. I ruffle his hair affectionately, my heart swelling because I love him so much its ridiculous. I press one more kiss to his temple before pulling myself away and trotting happily out of the room and down the stairs.
It’s a beautiful day. I’m home and it’s chilly outside but warm in here and Justin is upstairs, chasing those last few moments of sleep, and I could not be more content than I am right now. This is everything I wanted this trip to be.
My mother turns from the refrigerator as I enter the kitchen, her hands full of eggs and butter and bacon. My father is sitting in his usual chair by the wall, hidden behind the morning newspaper. I grin. Just like I imagined.
“Good morning Momma,” I say, kissing my mother on the cheek before sitting down next to my father, who barely glances up from his paper.
“Good mornin’ sugar,” she responds, setting her items on the counter. “D’you two sleep okay?”
“Great,” I respond brightly, my hands smoothing over the ruffled place mat.
“Justin still sleeping good?” my father asks, eyeing me over the newspaper and I give him a condescending smile.
“He’s been working a lot lately,” I reply, which is the truth but its always the truth with Justin. “He barely had an hour between when he stepped off the plane from Vegas to when he got on with me to fly down here. He’s just jet lagged.”
“Vegas huh?” my father asks, grumbling from behind his newspaper.
“For work,” I insist, trying to get him to hear me through the comic strips that are facing me. “He had a golf tournament there and-”
“Jim, will you stop harping on the boy,” my mother chides as she sets the skillet on the stove, dropping a large dollop of butter in the pan. “You’re gonna give your daughter an aneurism.”
The phone rings before my father can protest and my mother sighs, drying her hands on a dish towel before moving to answer it.
“Hello?....” She cups the mouth piece with her hand. “Jim, its Carl.”
My stomach drops. I watch as my father sighs, folding up his newspaper and setting it on the table as he pulls himself from his chair.
“I’ll take it in the den,” he replies, pecking my mother on the forehead as he ambles out of the kitchen.
My mother holds the receiver until she verifies that he has it on the other line then she hangs up, shuffling back over to the stove. I sigh, standing and moving to lean against the counter, watching as she pulls strings of bacon from the package.
“He’s going to leave,” I say stiffly and my mother sighs in annoyance.
“Honestly, Skylar,” she says shaking her head.
“Mom, you know I’ve never really complained.” She eyes me hard. “Okay I have but I’m pretty sure I have a valid argument this time. He told me he’d be here for this.”
My mother sighs, watching me from the corner of her eye and she doesn’t say anything for a long moment, dropping bacon into the frying pan. The sizzling of the meat is the only sound in the kitchen before she takes a deep, cautious breath.
“You’re pretty serious with Justin?” she asks.
I shift, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yes.”
“You said he works a lot?”
I shift again. Where is she going with this? “Yes.”
“He’s out of town a lot.”
Ah, there it is. “It’s different.”
“Is it Skylar?” my mother asks, her eyes boring into mine. “Is it really so different?”
I swallow hard at the accusation in her voice. She sighs, shaking her head as she turns back to the pan, turning the bacon over with a fork, watching it wiggle and pop.
“You always said you would never live like this,” she says gently. “You said you would have a man with a steady job that was home every night by six.”
“I was ten years old,” I argue, my arms folding tighter against my chest.
“You hate it, Skylar,” she says, her eyes meeting mine again. “The leaving, you can’t stand it. You never could. You were always so sensitive to it. I don’t know why you would set yourself up to be hurt like this.”
Rage boils in me. “You do it,” I say, venom in my voice. “You’ve done it for almost forty years.”
“Because I love your father,” she replies evenly and I grit my teeth.
“I love Justin,” I say, my stomach quivering. I’ve never told my mother I loved someone before. Its scary and some how validating, making what Justin and I have seem almost permanent.
“I’m not saying you don’t, Sky,” my mother says, looking back at me her eyes soft and understanding in a way that only mothers can be. “I’m just saying think long and hard about what you want. Think if he can give that to you.”
My chest tightens. Ever since that day in Justin’s bedroom I haven’t looked back. I put my arms around him and told him that I loved him; I was never going to quit and that’s all I’ve seen. Me and him together. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t question. I haven’t looked back. And now, standing in the kitchen with my mother watching her make bacon, she has gotten me to do something that I never even dreamed would happen again.
She got me to doubt.
“You love him, honey,” my mother says and my eyes snap to hers. “You love him and that’s wonderful.” Her voice is earnest when she says this, her eyes bright and I can tell she really is happy for me, happy because I’m happy. But then her eyes turn soft as does her voice. “But don’t wake up one day and realize you’re miserable because he does the same things that have always hurt you.”
“Good morning ladies!”
I nearly jump out of my skin as Justin saunters into the kitchen, freshly showered and shaven, wearing the dark grey sweater I bought him that he loves so much. He pads over to me, his socked feet making no sound on the tile and he drops a tender kiss on my forehead before peering over my mothers shoulder.
“God, it smells good in here.”
“Well, we certainly know the way to your heart don’t we honey?” my mother chuckles smiling brightly all traces of our conversation gone from her face even though it haunts me still.
Justin pecks her on the cheek. “I’m a simple man, Viv,” he replies with a chuckle before moving to sit down at the breakfast table, snatching the newspaper and opening it.
I move to sit next to him, doubt gnawing at my insides, watching him peruse the sports section. I love Justin. I have loved Justin since I was twenty-three years old. I’ve never stopped. I feel like I can’t breathe without him. But what if my mother’s right? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for someone to come home. I’ve done that enough already.
“Dammit the Packers lost,” he mutters and then he glances at me, eyes holding mine for a moment. “Everything okay?”
I blink. “Yeah…sorry,” I say, shaking my head and he just eyes me, a grin pulling at his lips.
“I know. I know. I look good in this sweater,” he sighs, flipping the page in the paper and I laugh at him, my doubts shoved away for a moment by how adorable he is.
“Oh, so humble,” I sigh and he grins cheekily at me, perusing the entertainment page.
“So are you taking Justin around town today?” My mother asks, laying bacon out on a paper towel before cracking an egg into the skillet.
“Yes, Skylar are you taking me around town today,” he smirks, and then leans in to whisper “maybe show me where you lost it.”
I gasp, slapping at him across the table and he pulls back, his bottom lip protruding as he rubs his arm.
“That hurt,” he whines, his brow knitting and his eyes holding that wounded look I’ve seen so many times when he’s trying to get sympathy.
“Skylar Jane,” my mother says warningly and Justin turns to her wide eyed.
“Did you see it? She hit me.”
“Don’t hit Justin, Skylar,” my mother replies not even turning from her pan and my jaw drops, glaring at Justin across the table. I hear my mother chuckle softly.
“You are such a suck up!” I exclaim, swatting at him again and he leans back, dodging my hands.
“Yes I am,” he smirks proudly and then glances at my mother to make sure she’s occupied before bringing his fingers to his lips and waggling his tongue between them lewdly.
I gasp loudly, mouth jaw falling open and he grins at me, wiggling his eyebrows. He ducks his head as my mother sets a glass of orange juice in front of him and he grins up at her in thanks before looking at me lasciviously again. I roll my eyes at him receiving a cheeky grin in return.
“Justin!” my father booms as he shuffles back into the kitchen and Justin immediately sits up straighter in his chair. “I take it you slept well.”
“Yes,” Justin says, smiling widely, his eyes cutting to me and I blush.
“Good, good,” he says, settling back into his seat, seemingly not to notice our little exchange. “Sky’s bed big enough for the two of you?”
“Dad!” I exclaim in a heated whisper and he chuckles, folding up the newspaper clearly enjoying my discomfort and I realize just how alike my father and Justin really are.
“Jim,” my mother scolds, bringing over the frying pan to drop a few eggs on Justin’s plate and then mine. My father ducks his head, chastised.
“You gonna take Justin to Cosway’s?” my father asks his eyes on my mother as she puts a few eggs on his plate.
“Yeah probably for lunch,” I respond, reaching for the salt and sprinkling some on my eggs.
“Baby could you pass the salt,” Justin and my father say at the exact same time and they look at each other wide eyed across the table before chuckling.
“Go ahead,” my father says, shaking out the newspaper and I hand the salt shaker to Justin who takes it grinning sheepishly.
My mother is shaking her head slowly as she rounds the kitchen table, walking behind Justin but she stops behind him, her brow crinkling.
“Justin what’s on your neck?”
Justin and I both freeze instantly, our eyes snapping to each other. I look carefully at his neck and can see no visible teeth marks from last nights tryst. He seems to relax a little as my mother’s finger smudges against the base of his neck.
“Oh that’s…” he trails, reaching to adjust his sweater higher on his shoulders. “That’s just my tattoo.” I exhale slowly.
“Tattoo!” My father exclaims, peering over the top of the newspaper and I cringe.
“Dad,” I whisper through clenched teeth as my mother sits across from me.
“That’s nice dear,” she says, brushing over my father’s exclamation and he bristles behind his paper, continuing to read again. “What’s it of?”
“It’s a guardian angel,” he says, reaching up to fiddle with his collar nervously and then gives her a bashful grin. “It was for my mother.”
My mother’s face goes soft, her eyes going slightly misty and I look at him slightly amazed. I glance at my father who is now pretending to read his paper and he seems somewhat less stiff. Well played Justin, well played.
“Well that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” My mother says and Justin dips his head in a blush. “Your momma must be so proud of you.”
Justin’s face lights up the way it always does when he talks about his mother. “She’s pretty pleased,” he grins and then adds. “I got good genes what can I say.”
“You’re from Memphis?” My mother asks politely, keeping her eyes on Justin as she forks eggs into her mouth.
“Yes ma’am,” Justin says nodding, wiping his mouth with a napkin and then reaching for his orange juice. “A little bit outside of the city. In a little town called Millington.”
“You’re family still live around there?” my mother asks and Justin nods, draining his glass of orange juice.
“My mother and grandparents. Live right next door to each other actually,” he says and then goes to take another drink but remembers his glass is empty.
“I got it,” I say softly, placing a hand on his arm and stand from the table, tugging up my jeans a little as I walk to the fridge.
“Skylar you’re wearing jeans,” my mother says, her voice slightly surprised and I look down at myself as I open the refrigerator door.
“They look good on her huh?” Justin asks grinning as his eyes travel up my legs. “See I told you.”
“She hardly ever wears jeans,” my mother says and Justin nods in agreement. “even when she was younger she preferred khakis or skirts.”
“Exactly!” Justin exclaims and I roll my eyes, filling his glass with orange juice before setting the jug back in the fridge. “Which is why I designed those for her.” I see my father’s ears perk up, eyeing Justin over the paper. “She just needed a fit that looked good on her.”
“You designed those?” my mother asks slightly impressed and Justin nods
“For my clothing line. They’re the “Skylar” fit.” He sniggers to himself, forking more eggs into his mouth and I scowl as I set his now full glass at his elbow. “Thanks darlin’.”
“You have a clothing line?” My father asks incredulously.
My mother gasps, elated. “Skylar you never told me you had a pair of jeans named after you!”
“It’s not a big deal Mom,” I grumble and Justin grins, tapping on my hip as he forces me to turn around.
“See how the lower waistline accentuates the curve of her hips? And the design of the yolk on the back makes her ass look…” he trails his ears turning pink and my mother smirks at him. He clears his throat not even daring to look at my father who is eyeing him hard over the top of the newspaper. “Plus a slouchy trouser fit is so totally her.”
“Can we stop looking at my ass now,” I whine, pretending I don’t notice the smirk on Justin’s lips as I flop back down in my chair.
“Don’t curse honey,” my mother says, shaking her head slightly and I sigh.
“Thirty-three years old and I can’t curse,” I mutter to myself and my father chuckles.
“Damn straight, young lady.” I narrow my eyes at him before breaking into a smile. “How old are you again Justin?”
Justin and I both cringe. “T-twenty-seven,” he says and then forks an enormous bite of food into his mouth.
“How did you kids meet anyway?” my father asks and Justin’s jaw is working slowly, trying to swallow the food in his mouth. Thanks Jus.
“Oh gosh,” I say, looking at the watch on my wrist. “It’s getting late. We have a lot to do today.”
“Yeah we do,” Justin chimes in, standing from his chair then draining his glass of orange juice. “Thanks for breakfast Viv it was wonderful,” he adds leaning down to peck her cheek and my mother blushes under his attention. My father eyes him skeptically.
I grab Justin and my plates, dropping them in the sink before ushering Justin out of the kitchen, giving my parents a short wave.
“You know we really need to come up with an answer to that question,” I whisper to him as we walk into the foyer, reaching for my coat.
“What question?” Justin asks, taking my coat from me and holding it open so I can slip my arms through.
“How we met,” I say, reaching to untuck my hair from my collar but he beats me to it, his fingers sliding warmly against my neck.
“We don’t have anything to be ashamed of Skylar,” he says seriously and I sigh.
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble watching him tug on his leather jacket. “You’re not the one who committed a felony.”
He laughs. “So that’s why it felt so damn good.” I squeal as he snatches me close, nibbling at my neck and growling. I push at his chest and he pulls back grinning. “All we have to do is tell the truth babe.” He shrugs unaffectedly, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose before he releases me to step out the front door. “You seduced me and I was so young and innocent I was really perilous to stop myself.”
My eyes widen. “That’s not how it went!” I exclaim and he throws his head back laughing as he trots down the front steps, me chasing after him.
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