“I have some presents for you, at my house. I thought maybe we could spend Christmas Eve at your place and Christmas Day at mine together,” I express loudly through the speaker in my phone, throwing us both off guard. I need to get this present finished for him, and it’s already late into the evening.

I locked up after Jenny went home, and now I’m working in my darkroom. Processing, editing, and all the stuff I used to do by hand before technology completely took over.

Excitement spreads across my face when I lift a picture and tilt my head to study it. I don’t recognize myself in any of these.

“I’d like that,” he responds. I place the picture where it needs to go by the others, pull off my gloves, and lean against the counter. He either has something on his mind, or he’s hiding something from me. Either way, the short, clipped tone of Blake’s voice worries me. I should say ‘okay,’ hang up, and finish. Yet I don’t. In fact, I should do a lot of things when it comes to the man who is now known as Blake Mitchell. I should thank him for lifting up my spirits some, for pushing me to talk, and for being honest. I will. I just want to do it in person.

“Is everything okay?” I enquire on a half-smile, knowing full well no one can see me. I suppose I want him to hear in my voice that I’m smiling. He’s making me happy, and I’m thinking of things I never thought would be possible. I’m also thinking clearly, wisely, and my opinions are crossing over each other, tying me up in a knot. No one knows our story but us, so why should I let my true feelings get in the way? Why should I not be happy with the man I love? I shouldn’t. The only people who know are the ones who care about us, and that should be all that matters.

The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m not alone anymore. I don’t have to be again. I feel fortunate and disappointed at the same time. A big bag of different emotions than I’ve felt before. It’s unbelievable that he’s even here, and yet he is. I’m so happy he’s alive, but my heart is telling me I forgave him too soon for putting me through what he did. He broke my heart, and as much as it’s healing, it doesn’t take away the broken piece that may never heal. Our confessions, they were a start, I suppose. I don’t know. I wish my mind would shut off and let me forget. I wish we could start over without things hanging over our heads. Like the fact I have to tell him something that will hurt him. And there’s also me wanting to know who found out and gave away his name as the witness to that murder. He knows who it is. I’m positive of it. That’s the missing piece I need to put the past to rest.

I remember my grandmother telling me on my wedding day that there isn’t a better feeling in this world than being loved, and I feel it whenever I’m with Blake. I always have. Don’t we all search for that perfect reason for everything? We judge, we hurt, we bleed, and we love. I will always be overridden with emotions. I need to choose the ones that make me happy, not the ones that continue to drag me down. I need to listen to him, to me, and let go of the guilt from all angles. I need to let go of the hurt, too. I will always have his heart. He still has mine, and I don’t want it back. I want him. I want to make him happy, give him the chance to show me what I see in his eyes. He wants to give me the world in an entirely different way than we planned.

I think about how far I’ve come since I found out he‘s alive. How he’s single-handedly beginning to collapse my barriers one by one. And it isn’t his unspoken dirty words he’s locking away that make me nervous. It’s the whole-hearted ones. The ones he said to me when I broke down that have me smiling.

“Not unless you won’t unlock the door and let me in.”

“What? Are you here?” I stutter, push away from the counter, and check my blotchy face in the mirror. Suddenly, I’m staring at an entirely different woman than I did a few minutes ago in the picture. I’m a freaking mess. Sweaty from being in this room, makeup streaked, my hair a wild, untamed mass piled on top of my head. I don’t care. All thoughts and misguidings of it being too soon are long gone because he’s here.

“Hi.” Something comes over me when I push open the door to see him standing there with a bag slung over his shoulder. I grab him by the collar of his coat, pull him to me, and kiss him. My hands start weaving and fist in his hair, my tongue eating every part of his mouth I can find. I would keep going if it weren’t for the cold chill of the air hitting the exposed skin between my shirt and jeans.

“God, I missed those,” he admits.

“Me too.” I appreciate the fact neither one of us speaks any more. I just want to stand here with his arms wrapped around me for as long as I can.

Finally, I pull back, run my hands across his scruff, and look suspiciously from his bag to him. “Don’t look at me that way, Adriana. It’s early on Christmas Eve. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to, but I’m spending the holiday with my wife. In fact, if I didn’t have something I want you to see in the morning, we could go to your house tonight.” I smile so wide my face tingles. Yeah, he definitely has something planned.

“What time is it?”

“A few minutes after midnight,” he says casually.

“Shit. I’ve been busting my ass for six hours. I’m not even halfway done. Did you want me to see the view?” The thought of being in his arms all night is all I can think of right now. That and how his body has me throbbing.

“I do. Plus, I want to show you something else.” Now my throb is pounding.

“Well, I definitely don’t want to say no to that.” He steps a little closer. My head tilts up to look at him. God, my insides seem to turn to liquid; my eyes are seriously doing all the talking right now. I’m this close to violating his body right here in the open doorway. I simply don’t care.

“I don’t want you to say no either. Please tell me you’re almost done working?” Disappointment hits his eyes when I pull away without answering. I step aside to allow him in, lock the door, and make my way to the back of the building. An idea for my own little surprise pops into my head.

“I’m not really working. I’m making one of your presents, which means I have to say no. It also means you can’t stay here. I’ll never get it done if you do. I can take a break, though.” His expression is guarded when I turn around. He’s tense. Something is definitely bothering him.

“Have a seat.” I run my hands over the smooth leather of my office chair. A Christmas gift from Heidi and Daniel. I doubt very much she’ll care what my first fond memory will be when I think of it.

His eyes darken. I do my best to avoid them. I’ll lose my courage if I don’t.

When his brows lift and his feet shuffle forward, I swallow. What a fool I was to think we didn’t know each other anymore. Blake is very familiar with what I’m doing. I surprised him many times with the same words, the same posture, and the same stare in his office.

What I do know is that the sexual tension between the two of us is so strong it’s working triple overtime. There’s only one tiny little obstacle in our way. His damn zipper.

I lower myself to the floor in front of him and run my hands up his thighs. His breath hitches, his eyes diverting to my mouth. “I missed everything about you, Blake. The way you made me feel. Protected, loved, and adored. The way you let me do the things I wanted. The way you trusted in me. Held me regardless if the reason behind you holding me wasn’t simply because you wanted to. But this, the way I made you lose control, was one of the things I missed about you the most.”

“Fuck, Adriana.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back while I unzip him, his cock hard and ready. My mouth and lips are quenching in thirst for a taste.

Blake’s hands leave the arms of the chair to cradle my face, his thumbs skimming down my cheeks and running across my lips, tugging the bottom one down.

“No touching, remember?” I lift up to run my finger down his chest, feeling his heart hammer underneath my touch.

“Oh, I remember, alright. You might want to as well,” he growls.

“I do. Your paybacks are a pleasure. The same way this is.” I nip his jaw, his neck, while I continue sliding my hand down his shirt, my eyes following until I reach his throbbing, angry dick just waiting for my mouth. God, he’s beautiful. “Fuck,” he roars, eyes heated with a fire underneath that spurs me on. I grab hold of his fly, push it all the way open, and reach for the base of his thick erection, my eyes glued to his closed ones. I want him relaxed and fighting the urge with knuckle-white hands to touch me.

I smirk, swirling my tongue around his tip, and pull him into my mouth. “God, that feels good,” he groans as his eyes turn into a blazing inferno of isolated heat. I concentrate on pulling, licking, and snaking my tongue around the head of his glorious cock. The protruding veins down the length of him swollen in the palm of my hand. Twisting my mouth one way and then the other down the length of him repeatedly until he’s bucking up into my mouth. Eyes clenched shut, hands resisting to grab my head and fuck my mouth the way he wants. He’s swearing worse than I’ve ever heard him before. “Goddamn, that fucking mouth of yours. I’ve always loved that mouth. Fuck, it’s incredible. I’m going to blow down your throat, sweetheart. And you’re going to take it all.” I look up at him, his mouth still hanging open after his admission. I have him right where I wanted him. Peaceful and powerful. Relaxed and reduced to submitting to my mouth. Naughty and wicked. And I’ve missed this part of us more than anything. This raw, primal connection of two people in love who unleash on each other in all kinds of ways.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ. Fuck.” He throws his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head. I suck, lick, and struggle against not putting my hand between my legs. I need to come so badly. It’s not going to happen, not tonight. This night is about him, because knowing my husband, he’s going to pay me back in a sinfully delicious way. His tense body is surrendering to his orgasm. His arms go lax, his chest heaves, and when I suck him repeatedly from base to tip, he yells my name as he falls apart from the working of my mouth.

* * *

Blake didn’t relent when I asked him to leave. He did, however, run up the street to a neighboring bar and get me something to eat. I ended up finishing at four this morning. Came home and crashed. And now, I’m trying to figure out why he even showed up at my shop in the first place. I’m not buying the fact of him only wanting to be with me on the holiday. I believe it’s true. I wish he were here with me now. There’s just something else besides missing me that has him all tensed up. Sure, what I did relaxed him, and he became serious and eager to see me again. Made me promise I would stay tonight, and we even talked about the two of us having the week off together. I told him how I wanted to see his winery, and he told me he wanted to ice skate on the lake.

Whatever it is has me worried. I’ve seen the look of guilt written all over my own face for years. It was the same look he was wearing when he stood in my bedroom doorway the first time I saw him. He’s having a hard time telling me, in the same way I’m having difficulty telling him what I’m hiding. Our secrets might be different, but in the end, they’re going to hurt. Sting. And yet something tells me they will strengthen our bond even further.

“I don’t know who it could be, Heidi. I doubt very much it’s anyone I know.” I rarely had time to make friends with work, a husband, and constantly chasing after Alexis. Thinking of her name is one of the reasons why I called Heidi. This time of the year depresses me. The onslaught of memories when we were kids waiting for our parents to wake up takes over every thought. Waiting for our grandma to come over; all the pictures…they roam around in my head. Her smile, her laughs. Our sharing.

“Maybe he just wants to let it go. Move on. The man has been living with a shit ton of ghosts for a long time now. Don’t get frustrated. I’m sure whoever it is, the name won’t mean a thing to you anyway. It’s not like you or he will look the person up.” She’s right, as always. Still, I want to know.

I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I basically want to come clean with everyone about everything. I owe it to Blake to tell him about the baby first. Then maybe I’ll tell Heidi and Daniel, or maybe we’ll keep it to ourselves. My two friends have dealt with enough sadness. Breathing in shades of guilt or shame hasn’t done a thing for any of us except interweave our insides all around.

“I think you’re going to be okay, like really, really okay, if you get what I’m saying. Like you-better-sort-your-underwear-drawer kind of okay. Make room for his kind of okay. The man pursued you relentlessly until you finally went out with him. Shit, he had you seduced with his words and on your back before you actually fucked him.” She couldn’t be further from the truth about Blake; he’s going to want to move in together. I puddled every time at his feet, too. His dirty talk was a part of him I loved. The sweet side of him as well. I miss him sleeping next to me so badly I want nothing more than for him to be wrapped up around me. His hot breath up against my neck, his arms holding on to me tight. God, this is still unbelievable. I’m trying so hard to not think about those men and what could happen if they found out.

“Ha. I already did.” I’m kidding, but if he wants to move in, then he can. There isn’t anything stopping us from being together. I’m not going to let these men take my happiness from me again.

“I knew you would. I didn’t tell you this, because I didn’t want you hurting anymore, but you didn’t see his face when you ran out of the room. He stood there completely defeated. I watched as his heart followed behind you. What he did was a selfless act. I’m so happy for you. You have no idea how much.” If she’s as happy as I am, then I have a fairly certain idea I do know.

“I know,” I mutter.

“Do you? Not so sure. Maybe cut him a tiny bit of slack. Be nice. He could be hiding nothing, you know.” God, I want to smack her now. There is one hole to be plugged in this story that all my free time is spent wondering who. If it were a police officer or someone else in law enforcement, he would have told me. I’ve lain in bed staring at the ceiling trying to figure it out. I come up blank.

My mind starts rolling back to a time when he was there for me. Holding my hand, stroking my hair, and telling me everything was going to work out.

“I have to go, babe. Call me tomorrow.”

“Me too. I need to get ready. I love you guys.”

“Merry Christmas. Be naughty.” She has no idea how naughty I want to be, how badly I do want to give him slack. To believe he isn’t hiding anything from me anymore.

I disconnect, grab the box containing the pictures of my family, and do what I’ve done every year since my parents passed away. I close my eyes and pull out the first picture my hands land on, then the memory forms.

“We should open that one first.” She pointed to the big one wrapped in bright red foil in the back.

“I don’t know. That’s the only one with both of our names on it. We should open it last and together. What do you think it is?” I looked up at my pretty sister. She was a teenager now, had been for two years. Both our birthdays were in the summer, which meant I had a little over six months to go until I was thirteen. I couldn’t wait to be a teen. Mom and Dad said I could wear a little makeup. I wanted to wear it the same way as Alexis. She always looked so pretty. Grown up. It wouldn’t be long now until she’d go off to college and leave me.

“I think it’s ice skates. Purple for you and pink for me.” Her eyes glistened from the twinkling of the lights. Her hair shined, and her lips parted on a heavy sigh. Alexis really wanted to learn how to skate. In fact, there were a lot of things she wanted to do but never tried. She always said I was the one with all the talent. Which was a lie. Where I excelled in dancing or moving gracefully around the rinks, she could move a mountain with her looks. The way she did her hair and makeup. Her skin was always flawless. Not a teenage pimple in sight. I had them all the time. Once a month with my dumb period, they became worse.

“If it is, you better let me teach you.” I leaned against her shoulder; she always smelled like daisies. Fresh and clean.

“Let’s go do your hair. We never know when Mom and Dad will get up. Plus, we have two more hours until Grandma gets here.” She stood, grabbed my hand, and yanked me up. We covered our mouths all the way up the stairs trying not to wake our parents up with our giggling. God, I was so blessed to have her as a sister. If I could have picked any girl out of a line of a million, I would have picked her. I just knew I would.

“Have you kissed a boy yet?” she asked when she came out of her bathroom with her brush, comb, and all kinds of hair products.

“No. Have you?” I sat up quickly. I knew that look. It was her sneaky look; it was her look that she gave when she was about to tell me something I couldn’t tell anyone. “Alexis. What did you do?” I said a little more angrily than I should have. Of course, she would do something the minute our parents let her stay out later. Every boy in school wanted to go out with her. She was just that pretty.

“I didn’t let them go all the way, if that’s what you’re thinking. They touched my boobs.” She smirked as if letting them touch her was okay.

“Wait? They? Alexis!” I scolded. She was only fifteen, and even though she was in high school and I was still in middle school, I heard stories. I knew what they called girls who messed around, and my sister not only messed around with one but two, or more.

“It was Landon and Logan Joseph. You know I’ve been crushing on them for a long time. I had to choose.” She sat behind me, started brushing my hair as if what she told me was no big deal at all. It was a big deal. A very big deal.

“Alexis, you can’t do that again. Those boys are seventeen years old. They could get in trouble, not to mention, they don’t care about you and they do drugs.” Even though she was gentle with my hair, I could tell she was angry by the way she huffed. I bet she rolled her eyes at me, too.

“Stop it. I’m not going to do anything with them. When I do, it will be with Logan. He’s a much better kisser, and they don’t do drugs. They smoke pot. I’m not going to smoke it, so don’t worry. I’d like to be in control of my thoughts. Boys are my thing. Not drugs. That’s a big difference.” No, it really wasn’t, not when it came to those boys. My shoulders sagged in defeat. The last thing I wanted to do was argue with my sister, let alone on Christmas morning, so I let it go while she braided my hair. All the while, my mind prayed she wasn’t lying, because if she was, this was a secret I might not be able to keep.

It wasn’t until two days later when our mom had dropped us off at the park to skate that I caught my sister in the lie. It was the first one I remember her telling me. She never skated that day. In fact, she never did at all. She smoked pot with both Landon and Logan Joseph. She also did a lot more than that with them over the years. Both of them. Together.

Almost a year and a half after her death, and the mourning still hasn’t run its course. The heaviness in my limbs doesn't come close to the weight in my mind. Things Alexis used to say or do only cause a deepening of the pain.

“She hated life, and I will never know why.”