Chapter Sixteen - Anthony
Waking up in my own bed with Brooke beside me feels like everything is the way it should be. Even with how fucking terrible yesterday had been, this feels right. Looking down at Brooke, all I can think is how beautiful she is and how glad I am she’s back in my life. I hate that she was going through so much and that I couldn’t protect her from it. I hate that she ever had to feel that afraid. I hate that someone as clearly reprehensible as her ex, Jeff, had ever been part of her life. I want to keep her safe now, safe and happy.
Last night, after we’d come in, I’d filled my mom in on the barest details while Brooke took a long shower. I’d made dinner, and we’d sat on the couch under a blanket with David, watching a kids’ movie until he fell asleep. In bed, she’d pulled herself in close to me and told me even more than she’d told the police: all the details and all the pain that had come with them. I’d held her tight all night, not wanting to ever let her go.
Now, with the morning sun breaking through the windows, I run my fingers through her hair and smile. I’m in love with her, I realize. Maybe part of me always was. Maybe I never stopped from when we were kids. I know I am now. I’m fully and completely in love with her.
Brooke stirs, rolling into me more before opening her eyes and smiling a soft smile at me.
“Good morning,” I say, tilting my head to kiss her.
“Good morning,” she says back, right against my mouth.
“How did you sleep?” I ask, sliding a hand to the back of her neck.
“Better than I have in months,” Brooke says. “I can’t even begin to thank you enough for yesterday.”
“So don’t,” I say, “because all that matters is that you’re safe now.”
“I’m just really glad you came back,” Brooke says, kissing me again, harder this time, with more force and feeling behind it. She slides closer to me, and I can feel her warm skin through the fabric of the t-shirt I lent her to sleep in. I slide my hand up and into her hair, and she gasps into my mouth.
“So am I,” I say truthfully. She deepens the kiss and fists a hand into the fabric of my shirt, pulling and tugging like she’s suddenly desperate for me to touch her. Every one of her touches is electric on my skin, and I feel myself grow hard when her tongue licks over my lips. I’m desperate, too, desperate to touch her, to make her feel so good that she forgets every bad thing that’s happened to her. To take her so high she forgets everything.
I slide my hand up the t-shirt, to her stomach, tracing my fingers over the warm skin I find there, up her ribs to her breasts.
“Please, Anthony,” she says, gasping. “Don’t stop.”
I think I would do anything she asked. I would touch her forever if she wanted. I don’t stop. I slide the shirt over her head and take her apart, making her come with my hands and then my mouth before I slide inside her, fucking her slow and steady, making it last. She squirms and writhes under me, biting out my name and cursing, the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She comes again, and feeling her come around me takes me over the edge, too.
I hold her for several long minutes after, feeling her shake as she comes down. She laces her fingers with mine, and I breathe her in.
When we’re ready to move again, I make breakfast. Unlike yesterday, I’ve got a whole kitchen stocked with food at my disposal. So I make omelets for Brooke and David. We spent the morning in David’s room with Brooke reading to him. He asks her to read just one book at first, but when he hears her read it, using character voices and making dramatic pauses in all the right places, he wants her to read every book on his shelves. He climbs up on her lap, asking for the story after story, and she reads them all. I think I could watch them together all day. Brooke is so good with David.
I haven’t let any of the women I’ve been with around David since Michelle died. Most of them were only around for the night, but I’d kept even the ones I’d seen more of from him. Seeing how well he gets along with Brooke makes me sure that was the right choice, that I was doing it for a reason. I didn’t want too many fleeting people around him. I feel like Brooke is going to be a permanent part of our lives.
My phone rings right before lunch. It’s the Market about our wedding catering. I tell them I’ll call them back later and look over at Brooke, who is still reading to David, thinking. After the story is over, I ask her if she can come help me in the kitchen, telling David we’ll be right back.
“So, that was the Market. Our wedding caterers,” I say. She frowns slightly.
“Our wedding,” she says, like maybe in the stress of the last day she’s forgotten.
“You know, when we first started talking about it, I thought we were joking. I just didn’t want to be the one to end the joke,” I say. Nothing about our relationship feels like a joke anymore, and it seems like we should talk about it.
“I did too,” Brooke says, smiling. “I didn’t want to end it either.”
“All these plans are actually in place, though,” I say. With every day I’ve spent with Brooke, I’ve felt more like I could actually marry her like I should. Like maybe I was always meant to.
“Do you think . . . ?” Brooke says, then pauses like she’s choosing her words. “Now that so much is happening between us, do you think we should call all that off? I want to do this right – do us right. I’d like to take it slow and make a real go at this.”
“I really think this could work,” I say. I want it to work so much. I feel certain it will. I don’t see how it couldn’t.
“Me too,” Brooke says, smiling, “So, we should call off those wedding plans and take it slow.”
“We can do that,” I say, pulling her in for a quick kiss. She kisses me back, smiling.
I want Brooke all day, every day, for the rest of my life. I think I always have.