Chapter Thirteen
Elly
I was feeling completely satiated after we ate. I had sex with the most incredible man in L.A—twice—and I’d just put away three-quarters of the best Reuben sandwich in the world. I was a happy girl. I slipped on the back of his bike once more, put on my helmet, and wrapped my hands around his waist. Once he took off out of the parking lot, I let my hands slide all the way around his middle and laid my head against his back. I closed my eyes and, as we drove through the hustle and bustle of San Fernando Blvd., I reveled in the feel of my body against his and the cool air in my face. He pulled onto I-5 and pointed us in the direction of Orange County, where we lived. After Tristan proposed, but before we’d gotten married, he had put a down payment on this house we looked at once near Newport Beach. It’s one of those houses that every time I walk into it, I had to practically pinch myself as a reminder that I really live there and it’s not all a dream. First of all, it’s right on the beach, which I liked and Tristan loved. He took a walk every morning along the surf line and then in the evening, when we’re home, we took one together. I loved watching the sun dip down into the ocean at night and cast an orange glow across everything. Something about the ocean kept Tristan calm, too. I don’t think we could ever live far from it.
Behind us, the hills looked close enough to touch and the neighborhood had a feel to it like you’re in some quiet little village in the mountains, when the truth was that we’re only a few miles from major shopping centers and restaurants. It’s in a gated community and at three thousand plus square feet with four bedrooms and three bathrooms, it was a little big for us when we first bought it. Tristan said he didn’t care; he wanted me to have the nicest house in town. He tried hard to make up for the times he let me pay for everything. He’d done that and then some. He still didn’t seem to realize that I would have continued to pay for everything forever just for the chance to spend my life with him.
The house had a pool and a fully-equipped gym where my sexy husband and I worked out together every day. The bedrooms all had private little terraces, and in the back we had a large courtyard surrounded by gorgeous, colorful, fragrant flowers. Some days I liked to just sit out there and read or think…I’d never imagined being that happy. When my mom came to visit, she said that she’d always imagined my life like this someday. It’s funny how a parent sees you so differently than you see yourself. I can only hope that someday my kids will think that I was half the mother she has been to me.
We drove up into the circular driveway and Tristan pushed the remote for one of the garage doors. We each had a car now and Tristan’s bike, so the three car garage wasn’t pushing it too much, I guess. We had a lot, but I liked to believe that since we’d both been through so much in our early days, we were still just regular people.
We left our helmets in the garage and let ourselves into the side door through the kitchen. Brandi, our babysitter, was sitting at the dining room table, surrounded by text books.
“Hey, guys! How’d it go?”
“My wife made the CD, it’ll sell billions now,” Tristan told her.
“I bet,” she said with a smile.
“How are the babies?” I asked her.
I was suddenly craving them and almost disappointed when she said, “Perfect. They’ve been asleep for an hour already. I checked on them a little while ago and they had their little fingers together, holding hands. It was so sweet I almost cried.”
“Aw, I love them!”
Brandi got up to gather her books and put them in her backpack. She was studying to be a dentist. She lived with her parents in the gated complex we lived in and she’d come highly recommended. To me, she was a huge blessing. I hadn’t wanted to hire a nanny to live in the house and I refused at first to leave them with anyone but family…my family, that is. Tristan still hasn’t agreed to let his parents meet them. His dad has supposedly been out of rehab and clean for over a year, and his mother for almost two, but he still had issues with them he needed to resolve. I leave that part of his life alone. I can’t make that kind of decision for him. They’d read in a magazine that I’d given birth to the babies and started calling all the time. Tristan had all of our numbers changed and he rarely trusts anyone enough to give out our address.
My mom comes and stays in town as often as she can. She can’t get enough of her grand-babies, but eventually she had to go home and we had to have a babysitter. I found out one day from a friend in the complex that almost every family with kids had used Brandi at one time or another since she was thirteen years old. She was the daughter of a movie producer mother and a camera man father. No one had anything bad to say about her. She’d told me she wanted nothing to do with show business. I can’t say that I blamed her. I had a lot of respect for her though, growing up where she did and being seemingly unaffected by the wealth and grandeur of everything around her. Her parents did a great job. Most importantly though, she was amazing with the kids.
I watched as Tristan handed her two one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes went wide and she said, “You really don’t have to pay me so much. I wasn’t here that long.”
“It’s worth it to us, Brandi; to have someone here we can trust,” he told her. She didn’t argue with him, she’d tried before and hadn’t gotten anywhere. He could definitely never be accused of being stingy with his money.
She threw her backpack over her shoulder and said, “Thank you.”
Tristan followed her out. Even though we live in one of the best neighborhoods in Orange County and it’s constantly patrolled by security, he insisted on making sure she made it to her house four doors down from us every time she left after dark. While he did that, I went to see my angels. I made my way down the long hallway to the nursery. The door was cracked open and I could see their nightlight shining stars on the ceiling as I pushed it open.
I tiptoed past the giant giraffe that Tristan insisted on buying and the pile of Thomas the train cars and tracks over to the crib. I’d read a lot of books when I found out I was having twins and most of them said that the babies would sleep better at night together. Tristan and I had ordered a specially made crib for them that had one mattress the size of two regular crib mattresses. The boys started sleeping through the night when they were six months old. I looked down at their sweet, curly heads and as I watched their little chests rise and fall my heart filled so full with love that it almost ached. Patrick was on his right side and Eli on his left. They did have their hands stretched towards each other and their little fingers intertwined. People asked me all the time how I could tell them apart. I don’t really have an answer for that other than a mother always knows her own child.
“Don’t, you’ll wake them.” Tristan had snuck in behind me and whispered in my ear.
“Don’t what?” I whispered back. I knew what he was talking about. He knew I wanted them to wake up so I could hold them.
“Take a picture, or touch them,” he said with his lips to my ear.
I stuck out my bottom lip and said, “Can’t we just wake them up for a little bit? I want to hold them.”
I felt his face curl up into a smile against my cheek and he said, “Me, too. But since you’ve done that before and we’ve each ended up holding one all night, I’m guessing it’s not the best idea.”
“Fine,” I said, still pouting. I kissed my fingers and touched each one of their soft warm cheeks. “Aren’t they the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen?” I asked Tristan. “It’s such a shame not to get a picture of them holding hands.”
He smiled again and said, “Yes they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, except for their Mama. As far as pictures go, I can’t imagine that in the fifteen or twenty you snap every day that we don’t have one of them holding hands already. Good night, little men,” he whispered.
We tiptoed out, taking the baby monitor with us to our room. The boys were fourteen months already and hardly ever woke up at night any more. It was nice to finally get some sleep…the first six months of their lives I didn’t get any. I’d often sat in the rocking chair in the nursery all night with one in each arm. Tristan helped a lot…for a guy who’d never been around kids, but he had work and I didn’t, so I did most of the night call. I guess I’m never satisfied. Now that I got to sleep at night, I missed holding them. They were getting big too fast. Sometimes I wished I could turn back the clock just a little and re-live all the good things that had happened over the past five years again…only slower this time.
When we got to the bedroom, Tristan kissed me and said, “You want to share a shower? No sex, but I’ll wash your back. California is in a drought you know. We’d be doing our civic duty.”
I laughed, “Well, if it’s our civic duty how could I say no?”
Our bedroom was huge with a granite fireplace and an attached little sitting room that made it comparable to a suite in a nice hotel. There was a huge set of French double doors that led out to the veranda and double walk-in closets. The bathroom was all made of grey and black granite with double sinks, a sunken tub with power jets and a double headed glass shower. Tristan and I shared it a lot…and most of the time it wasn’t just for a shower. That night though, we were both satiated and tired. We helped each other undress slowly while the water warmed up and then we stepped in. I stood under one of the shower heads and got wet while Tristan let the other cascade over his hair and down his back. He was so beautiful that sometimes I felt almost sexually satisfied just looking at him. When we were both wet he stepped over to my side with a sponge in his hand. He reached up and grabbed my body wash and after squirting a more than generous amount on the sponge he stood behind me and began washing my shoulder blades. He ran it down my back then and across my ass cheeks before kneeling down and running it first down one leg and then the other. He even rinsed it and bent back down to do my feet. When he finished soaping my back he turned me around and started on the front. He washed my neck and chest and then down my arms. I couldn’t help but shudder a little when he ran the sponge gently across each one of my breasts. He washed my belly and down both of my legs in front. After he had me all soaped up, he guided me back under the spray and kissed my lips as he rinsed me off.
“Thank you, baby. That was wonderful,” I told him.
“I’m not finished,” he said. He reached up for the shampoo and poured some into his hand. Stepping behind me again he began to massage it into my head. In spite of standing on my feet in the shower, I swear I nearly fell asleep right then. It felt so good, even better than when my hairdresser washed it. When he finished, he rinsed it and did the same thing with the conditioner. He kissed me again and said, “Now I’m finished.” I smiled and reached for the sponge. “Nope,” he said. “Dry off and get ready for bed. I’m gonna do this quick and then I’ll join you.”
By the time I was dried and dressed for bed he was out and doing the same. We climbed into our California King bed together and, as usual, we used a portion of it the size of a twin bed. He lay on his usual side and I snuggled into him with his arm around me and my head on his chest.
“Good night, baby. I love you,” he said as my heavy eye-lids started to close.
“Good night. I love you too.”