Nick's bedroom was glorious in the morning. This wasn't my first stay here, but it was the first time that I paused long enough to take it all in. In this rare circumstance, I appreciated the effects of jet lag that had me awake long before him. It had also given me time to ponder his request that I stay with him. Somehow, those words weren't quite so complex anymore.
The perfect amount of sunlight streamed in from the east. It was just enough to brighten and warm the room, but never so much that it was blinding. I was convinced that the bed was actually a linen-covered marshmallow. And it all came with a sexy doctor who didn't see a reason to wear pajamas.
"What's on your mind, lovely?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "You've been humming to yourself and tapping out Morse code on my arm for an hour."
He kissed the delicate spot beneath my ear, and I squirmed as his beard tickled my skin.
"You don't want to know," I said through my giggles.
That stopped all the ticklish kisses. "Of course I do," he said, levering up so that I was caged beneath him. "Talk to me, Skip. Tell me anything, everything."
"All right, you asked for it," I murmured. I dropped my gaze to his chest, raking my fingers over his skin. "I was thinking that the last time I had Thanksgiving with Shannon, I spent the subsequent forty-eight hours vomiting."
"Yeah," he said, wincing. "I think I've heard about that. You don't have to worry, though. Andy cooks, and she's very precise. Before Andy came around, Shannon had the entire meal catered. No incidents of food-borne illness, darlin', and even if there was, I'm qualified to handle that."
I hooked my ankles around his waist and pulled him down. There was something delicious about his body pressing mine into the mattress. "What I'm hearing you say is that I'm definitely going to this shindig."
"You know what I love about your family?" he asked, avoiding the hell out of my question. "Anytime the whole group is together, but especially around the holidays, they have the best time ever. Every single holiday is the new best holiday ever. Last year, it was at Matt and Lauren's loft, but Andy wanted to brine the turkey ahead of time, and that left Matt and Patrick jogging from the garage with a fifty-five gallon tub. Important note here, the tub was uncovered. They argued the entire way, and the turkey almost went flying when Matt tripped. And there was a trail of turkey water all down the hallway. The year before, we had paella at the loft, and Tiel brought an incredible pumpkin pie."
The sun was sliding in through the far window, and the light seemed to brighten Nick's light hazel eyes. "What I'm hearing you say now is that you're only there for the food," I said.
He dismissed my comment with a disinterested murmur, and continued on with his story. "It was kind of strained, with Tiel. But she's the type of person who needs to get comfortable with new folks before she can loosen up."
"And what should I learn from all that?" I asked, pinching his ass. "I'm inventing reasons to avoid my food-loving family? They're only enemies in my mind? If I stopped imagining disasters, I'd enjoy things more?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," he said, shooting each of my concerns out of the sky. He pinched my ass in return. "And I want them to know you're mine."
I reached between us, stroking his cock until he moaned my name. "Haven't we already accomplished that?" I asked.
"Somewhat," he said, thrusting into my hand. "We laid the foundation. Now we're building the house."
"Quick, embroider that on a pillow," I said, laughing. His hips were moving faster now, his cock shuttling between my fingers with unrestrained need. "When you're finished with the handicrafts, do you think you could throw my legs over your shoulders and fuck me?"
"Are you using me for orgasmic courage?" he asked, sliding his hand between my thighs.
He growled when he found me wet, and pushed his fingers inside me. My hands gripped the pillows at my head, and I tossed them toward the floor. One landed on Nick's back, and he stopped moving to give me an unimpressed stare. "Your aim, Skip. It needs work."
"Back to that orgasmic courage," I said. I batted his hand away and brought him to my entrance. Fingers were nice, cocks were better. "If I say yes, will you have a problem with that?"
"No," he said, laughing as he filled me. "That's what husbands are for."
"If that's the case, what are wives for?" I asked.
Nick was quiet for a moment, offering nothing more than growls and groans as he moved in me. "The same," he said, his lips pressed to my neck. "But also blowjobs."
Before Nick, I'd never experienced an orgasm during sex. I didn't think I could. I didn't think I wanted to, either. My introduction to sex wasn't a kind one, and after that, the mere thought of intercourse skated a fine line between tolerable and torturous. But then I'd spent a weekend on the far edge of Cape Cod with Nick, and a switch flipped. No one had ever touched me the way he did, like he wanted to wreck me but be gentle while he did it. A little voice kept saying "This moment, this man? They're safe. This time won't be like any of the ones before," and I believed it.
And now, with my ankles on his shoulders and his hands kneading my breasts as he drove into me, I still believed. I could feel good and wanted in the right ways. I could have sex without feeling all of my broken and scarred places. I could love him, and I could deserve his love in return.
Riley was at the door of Shannon's beachfront home north of the city when we arrived, and he regarded us with more this is going to be good amusement than strictly necessary.
"Shut up," I snapped, shrugging out of my coat.
"I didn't say anything," he replied.
I rolled my eyes. "You said plenty."
"Would you stop bothering my wife?" Nick asked, edging between us. "Who's here? What's going on?"
"That's a great question," Riley said. He stroked his chin. "Shannon's not allowed in the kitchen. She's good with this, but that's not stopping her from lurking. Also, we're not allowed to mention that she's still eating for two. Sam's grumbling about turkey. He'd prefer a salmon-and-asparagus type of Thanksgiving, but he's smart enough to know when he's outnumbered. Speaking of menu complaints, Andy will stab you in the heart if you have a problem with what she's cooking. Apparently, we all had plenty of time to weigh in before this afternoon, and bitching isn't permitted."
I rolled my hand in front of me. "Continue," I said.
"Patrick's playing sous chef, and he's enjoying the hell out of that. Not sure about power exchange dynamics there, but it's fun to watch."
"I don't want to know what Patrick and Andy do in their bedroom," Nick said.
Riley turned to him, smirking. "It's interesting that you went there," he said. "Will is yelling at everyone who tries to get within five feet of Froggie without adequately disinfecting themselves first. He's already threatened to cancel dinner and throw everyone out. Twice."
"Her name is Abby," I said. "Let's call her that."
"Tiel is napping," Riley continued. "Judy's been fussing all over her, and pissing Lauren off with comments about needing more grandchildren. Judy's decided she's stepping in as grandma for Sam and Tiel's kid. She's either the nicest lady in the world, or the master of passive-aggressive moves."
"Are you doing okay?" Nick asked. "With all of…that?"
"Thanks for the reminder that my life is in shambles," Riley muttered. "Helpful. Really fucking helpful."
"Your life isn't in shambles," I said.
"It's not in complete shambles," Riley said. "Matt just got back from a bike ride along the coast, and—"
"Wait," Nick interrupted. "He went for a ride? He didn't mention that to me."
Riley waved between me and Nick. "That's the price of doing business with the Little Mermaid here. Did you really expect him to call you up, two days after he found out about your new pastime? Please. You're smarter than that."
"Do not use that nickname on me," I said.
"Oh God," Nick said, clutching his chest. "I love it. You're the Riot Grrrl version of the Little Mermaid. You're the Third Wave feminist Little Mermaid who told the prince to go fuck himself, and then went on to turn the underwater community into conservation activists, aren't you?"
"So you've seen the film," I said. "What's your nickname around here? Hmm?"
"Kristoff," Riley said, snapping his fingers and jabbing a finger at Nick. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, dude, and I'm feeling it now. You're Kristoff."
"Who the hell is Kristoff?" I asked, and at the same time, Nick said, "Jesus, no. Not Frozen. I'd rather be Hawkeye than anyone from Frozen."
"What's your problem with Frozen?" Riley asked. "It's a delightful movie. I listen to the soundtrack at gym. You're obviously an Anna guy, but have you seen that dress Elsa wears in her ice palace? Talk about a smoke show."
"So you've seen that film, too," I said, blinking up at Nick.
"We've had a conversation about you and blondes, bro," he said. "Unhealthy. Needs to stop."
"Speaking of Miss Honey," Riley said ruefully, "she and the Commodore are in the laundry room. They're pretending to play with the puppies, but they're eating pie."
"And what are you doing?" I asked. "Other than loitering around the front door."
"I left my phone in my coat pocket. I was coming out here to get it because I want to stream the game while I'm working the bar," he said, gesturing to the highball glass in his hand. "I'm mixing up some kilt-lifters and watching football. Liquor and sports are keeping me distracted and desensitized."
Judy came around the corner, a burp cloth slung over her shoulder and five different styles of pacifier in her hands. "Oh, hello," she called. "The chef tells me we're eating soon. Go on in and get settled." She lifted the pacifiers when a baby's wail sounded from upstairs. "Shannon's getting Abby dressed now, and we're trying these out to see if we can find a nipple she likes."
"I've found two," Nick said under his breath. That earned him an elbow to the belly.
"Wow," Riley murmured after Judy headed toward the staircase. "I had no idea Kristoff would be such a pervert. Think about keeping that under wraps for the next hour or two, okay?"
We were gathered in the dining room, seated around Shannon's antique table with a beautiful meal, all by Andy's hand, laid before us. My siblings were busy passing platters and bowls, loading up their plates while Will listed all of Abby's achievements to date. He was particularly proud of her ability to grip his finger and open and close her eyes in his presence, and anyone who suggested that those behaviors weren't extraordinary could go fuck themselves.
"Erin, honey, it is such a joy to have you here. You have to tell us about Iceland. Bill and I haven't been there yet. It's on our list for next year, and we need some recommendations. But I'm dying to know," Judy said, smiling at me as she patted her fingertips on the table like the sweetest, most eager mom of all moms, ever. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"
Nick squeezed my thigh, and I noticed the corners of his lips tipping up. "Why don't you take that one, darlin'?" he suggested.
There was an unusual sensation bubbling up inside me. It felt something like happiness, all fizzy and light and forcing me to smile.
And with that, everything stopped. Dishes and wine glasses were set down, serving spoons dropped into bowls, and all eyes locked on me and Nick. This was one of those defining moments. The kind where several paths presented themselves. Many were acceptable, some were convenient, but only one was right. They'd all lead to other, new paths, and most of them would block the way from ever wandering back and attempting a different route.
Basically, there was no going back.
"Or I can do it," Nick said, glancing at me with his eyebrow arched in question. "It's your—"
"We got married the night before Matt's wedding," I said, cutting him off. "We're married, me and Nick."
Riley yanked the cork from a wine bottle, and the pop seemed to echo around us. Then, the rumbling started. At first it was all huh and hmm, but then it graduated to "What did she say?" and "Wait, what?" Nick kept his hand on my leg, his thumb drawing little circles on my inner thigh.
Riley passed the bottle to Lauren's father, the Commodore, and rubbed his palms together vigorously. "Great, we're going there," he said.
"Now that wasn't what I expected to hear," Judy murmured, her eyes as wide as could be.
"Wait, so—" Sam stopped, gesturing at Nick and me as he processed. "Could you run all that by us one more time?"
"And you knew?" Andy swiveled toward Riley, and it took all that long, dark hair of hers an extra few seconds to follow.
"Of course he knew," Matt yelled, tossing his hands in the air like we were discussing heresy and high crimes. "He has dirt on everyone."
"That's an unsettling prospect," Patrick said, his eyebrows pinched together. It was clear that he still didn't like any of this, but that was his way. He took the longest to come around.
"Pick your battles, boys," Will warned. "And while you do that, please remember that you do not govern your sisters' lives."
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Matt asked Shannon. "Why are you quiet? You're the one who's supposed to freak out right now."
Shannon rolled her eyes at Matt before glancing to me. She was wearing leggings and a long sweater, and while it was definitely casual for her, I never would've guessed that she gave birth days ago based on that look. "She told me the other day," she said, her tone dismissive. Almost flippant. Bad Bitch Shannon was the best Shannon. "And we've been emailing since last January."
"Emailing. Since. January," Sam yelled, bewildered. "Why am I always the last to know these things?"
"You girls certainly like eloping," the Commodore said, glancing between Shannon and me.
"I don't even know what to say about all of this," Patrick murmured, rubbing his forehead.
"You don't have to say anything, Patrick," I said, reaching for a dish of mashed potatoes. I dropped a scoopful on my plate, and then another. Nick's brows winged up at that. "Don't judge me."
"I'm not judging you at all," he said. "I love your affection for carbs."
"What is it with you guys? You're supposed to be happy for her, and accept that she's capable enough to make smart decisions," Lauren cried. "And before you forget, we like Nick. We should be thrilled that she's keeping it local. If we're lucky, we'll get to see her more often now."
"Lolo, the baby is sleeping. Quiet down," Judy said. "You'll understand the value of sleep when you have a child of your own."
"Thanks for that, Judy." Lauren rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath as she reached for her wine glass. She drained it, then passed it to Sam for a refill.
"Listen, people," Shannon said, wagging her finger at the table. "Froggie's going to wake up any minute and I'm starving. You go right on hollering at each other, but I'm going to eat."
"Thank you," Tiel murmured.
"Then I'm eating too," Riley said. "Someone pass me a drumstick."
"I'm warning you right now, RISD," Shannon said. "If you drop that drumstick on my new rug, I'll beat you with it."
"It's good that we're still irrationally violent," I said. "That keeps things fun."
"She lives in Europe, and you live here," Patrick said to Nick. He flipped open his cuffs and set to rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "And you're…married. How does that work? How does any of this work?"
"You're right, we do live on separate continents right now," Nick said evenly. "It's not ideal, and the past two years haven't been easy. But there will never be a distance too far or a wait too long for Erin."
I was blushing, but not a delicate, rosy kind of blush. It was the bright, flaming kind of blush, the one that was easily mistaken for a dangerously high fever.
"My grandmother, she was something of a mystic," Nick continued. "She used to say that some people fell in love as easy as a leaf fell from a tree, and only when they were ready to fall." He reached for his wine, drained the glass, and returned it to the table. "Others crashed as hard as lightning bolts. Neither was better or worse, but the lightning bolts? It was never simple for them. It was chaos and electricity, unpredictability and fire, and the fall was hard, but it was worth it." He turned back to me, his hand firm on my thigh. "We're the lightning, Skip."
"And the crash was worth it," I whispered. He leaned to me, and kissed the corner of my mouth.
From across the table, Judy pressed her napkin to her chest and sighed. "Aww," she said. "You two are precious."
"Oh, shit," Matt murmured. "You're serious about this. This is a real thing."
"Goddamn it, Matthew," Riley shouted, dropping the drumstick to his plate. "Catch the fuck up, would you?"
"Are we good now?" I asked, dipping my fork into the mashed potatoes. "Any other questions?"
Sam started to speak but Shannon held up her hand for silence. "We're good," she said. "Congratulations, you two. Someone who isn't pregnant or breastfeeding should pop some champagne."
"Would this be the wrong time to mention that we're engaged?" Andy asked.
"What!" Lauren screamed, slapping the tabletop.
"Lolo, the baby is sleeping," Judy said with all the exasperation a sweetheart like her could muster.
Patrick nodded, and held up Andy's arm as if she was a prizefighter claiming another victory. "It's true," he said.
"I'll get the champagne." Will pushed back from the table and clapped his hand over Patrick's shoulder. "Took you long enough."
Lauren had me cornered in the living room after dessert, and she was working hard at getting me on board with tomorrow's spa day and shopping plans. "Please come with us," she said, gesturing to Tiel and Andy. Riley was sprawled out on the opposite end of the L-shaped sofa with his baseball cap pulled down over his face. He was alternately moaning about eating too much and requesting more pie.
"I don't think I've ever had a pedicure," I said. My feet lived in steel-toed boots.
She shook her head as if my comment didn't compute. "I'm sorry, honey, it sounded like you said you've never had a pedicure."
"So shiny and pretty," Tiel murmured, gazing at the rock on Andy's finger.
"Um, I haven't had one," I said, bracing myself for the impact of Lauren's reaction. "Not a lot of spas on the glaciers and lava fields, you know?"
"Well, you're definitely coming with us now," she said. "You're not leaving right away, are you?"
I shook my head. In my haste to get back to the States, I hadn't purchased a return ticket. I was due in Reykjavík soon, but it wasn't like I was departing tomorrow.
"Good, good. We have to plan her baby shower," Lauren said, pointing to Tiel. "And now we have another wedding, and a bridal shower, too." She wrapped her arm around Andy's shoulders and squeezed. "Oh! And we need to have a party for you and Nick, of course. How amazing is all this?" She leaned forward and spoke in Riley's direction. "You're the only single one left now, RISD. Time to step up the game."
He pushed back his cap and edged up on an elbow, staring at her for a long beat. "Yeah, about that," he said, almost to himself. "I need another drink."
"Okay, so we're on for pedicures, lunch, and party planning," Lauren said while Riley shuffled into the kitchen. "Right?"
Tiel glanced over at me with a sympathetic grin. "The first time I heard about the pedicure outings, I said a few sassy things that I didn't really mean because it felt a little"—she gestured toward Lauren and Andy—"suffocating. But it's not like that. They're not like that."
I appreciated this girl. We shared similar definitions of suffocating, and we were both prickly as hell. "Okay," I said. "What do I need to know about pedicures?"
"I always go for black polish," Andy said, extending her hand to show off the shade.
I passed my thumb over her glossy nails. "And no one gives you any shit for being a dark-hearted Goth girl?" I asked.
"Being given shit doesn't require me to accept it," she said.
I liked this one, too. I liked them all, and that was really surprising. Friends, they weren't something I did. "When is my brother going to marry you?" I asked.
Andy shoved a chunk of hair over her shoulder and shrugged. "As soon as Minerva McGonagall is available to officiate."
Oh, yes. I really liked this one. She was bold and witty, and I aspired to give as few fucks as she did.
"Can I rub your belly?" Andy asked Tiel. "Now that Froggie's here, I'm in belly-rubbing withdrawal."
"You have so much baby fever, you're gonna get a rash," Lauren said.
"I can enjoy babies and weddings without pining for my own," Andy replied. A warm grin spread across her face when Tiel placed Andy's hand over her small bump. "Erin, are you staying around through the holidays? Or will you be coming back later next month?"
Riley poked his head in from the kitchen. "Tell me you're staying, Rogue. I can't wrangle these assholes alone anymore."
I wanted to say yes. That was my first instinct, and the one I wanted to follow.
But…fuck. All of this had happened so quickly. What did I want here? What the actual fuck did I want?
Taking care of myself was, by definition, self-centered. But it was also really fucking necessary.
My therapist used to tell me that, someday, I'd realize that I'd survived. That I'd walked through the fire and come out stronger. The desire to hurt myself, to let go of this world entirely, it would be gone much in the way that we forgot what it was like learning to walk. We just knew that we did learn, and everything before was a blur.
And right now, with my sister-in-law's hopeful eyes twinkling and my ass firmly planted on a sofa in Shannon's house, I felt the blur. I couldn't call up those memories. I couldn't reach that desire to feel one form of pain so that another form would abate.
I knew that I ran away because I needed it, but now the need was gone.
And that realization sent a mouthful of white wine down the wrong pipe.
I was up, waving off the concern of my sisters-in-law, and heading for a private space where I could cough and sputter and freak out over not freaking out in peace.