Mine for a week

Ash

She agreed. It took some doing, but I wore her down until she said she would come home with us for a week. That’s all I need. One week on my luxurious ranch living the good life with Cannon and me at her side and there’s no way she will want to leave.

“Come with me.” I lead her into my en suite bathroom and wet a washcloth with cool water. “Hold this on your eyes. I don’t think we have much time before Cannon gets restless and comes looking for his Tella.”

She smiles and accepts the cloth pressing it on her eyes.

“Do I look that bad?”

“Just a little red-rimmed, and your skin’s blotchy, and you have snot on your lip.”

“Okay, okay, I sound hideous, stop.”

I take hold of her wrists, lowering her hands from her face and look at her with stern eyes.

“You are not hideous, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re just making sure I don’t back out on you.”

“Damn right. But you are beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, now hold this and I’ll go stall Casanova out there for as long as I can.”

The smile I’ve been enjoying this past week returns to her lips.

“That’s better. Come out when you’re ready.”

I kiss her forehead and leave her alone to regroup. In the living room, Cannon has made quick work of one-fourth of his burger and half of his fries. The kid eats like a machine, and he’s never full.

“Ready to watch some Star Wars?” He twists around to see me with a mouth full of fries. “Yeah!”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you’ll choke.”

Ignoring me he continues to talk with food in his mouth, “Where’s Tella?”

“She had to use the bathroom. She’ll be out in a second. Before she comes back, I wanted to tell you something.”

Now that he knows Stella's location his focus is back on his food.

“Stella’s going to come home with us tomorrow for a week. We can show her where we live and you can show her your pig, Chester, and your chickens. Isn’t that great?”

He’s my insurance policy in case she tries to change her mind. Cannon is her weakness, whatever he wants she does her best to give it to him. Hell, I should have had Cannon ask her to be his nanny, she probably would have said yes.

Cannon swallows a mouthful of what cannot possibly be adequately chewed food and yells, “Yay!”

“What’s all the yelling about?” she asks returning to the couch looking like she never shed a tear. I hate it when women cry, especially this woman. But it was necessary to get her to come home with us, so it was worth it this one time.

He jumps up to stand in front of her, holding his greasy fingers out away from his body, so he doesn’t touch her with them. “You’re gonna meet my Chester and my chickens!” he says, bouncing up and down on his toes.

“I am? Who’s Chester? And you have chickens? I have chickens, too, six of them.” She flashes him a superstar smile and opens her eyes wide with excitement.

“Chester’s my pig. He’s big.” Cannon spreads his arms wide to show her how big and he’s not exaggerating, Chester’s a huge pig.

“Wow, I can’t wait. Do your chickens have names, too?”

“Uh, huh, Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Daisy, and Minnie.” He insisted on naming them after Disney characters after seeing Disney on Ice a few Christmas' ago.

“Cool, you’re good at naming chickens. Maybe you can help me with mine. They don’t have names.”

He looks at her like she’s lost her ever living mind, and she bursts out in a fit of giggles.

Yeah, this is good, we are good together, and I like it, too much maybe. Good things don’t last, bad things don’t either, for that matter. Eventually, everybody leaves, I’ve come to expect it.

This thing with Stella feels different, though, bigger, important, more real. And it’s crystal clear that Cannon loves her, never in his life has he been closer to a woman. The longest he had a nanny was one year, and that was before he could walk and talk. As soon as he could get around on his own and communicate he was terrorizing one nanny after another, it was like he knew they were paid to care for him, it wasn’t a natural nurturing, it was forced, and he couldn’t stand it.

With Stella, it’s easy, like breathing. Everything is effortless with her. She’s like a comfortable old pair of jeans that don’t pinch or scratch or bind.

“No names?” he asks her.

“Nope, not one of them. You think on that while we eat, and daddy will start the movie, okay?” Like magic, he sits back down on the floor next to the coffee table and starts shoveling his food in his mouth again. Maybe someday she’ll tell me her secret.

“You should probably cancel your flight tomorrow before it gets too late. My laptop is on the bed.”

“I’m not sure I can switch my flight this late.”

“Cancel it. I’ll pay for it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“What airline are you flying, I doubt I can get a seat on the same flight? I’ll probably have to take a later one.”

I stare at her without saying anything until it comes to her.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh yeah, I forgot, private jet. Is there room for me?”

“Yeah, it seats ten comfortably.”

“Ten,” she whispers to herself nodding. I lean forward and push her plate in her direction. “It’s getting cold, eat.”

Three hours later, Cannon is passed out on the couch and the credits are still running from Star Wars. We ordered ice cream for him from room service, and I had them bring a bottle of wine for Stella and me.

Her last glass is still half-full, and she’s fading fast. I’m not letting her leave tonight. Every night we have spent together has been in the throes of passion. Tonight’s going to be about snuggling and peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

Now that I know I have another week with her I can relax and stop thinking, this could be the last time, every time I touch her.

I stand from my spot that is much too far away from Stella, and round the table to scoop my son up in my arms and take him to bed. Once he’s tucked in, I return and do the same with Stella.

“I should go,” she murmurs against my chest when I pick her up.

“You should stay,” I say kissing her softly and placing her in the center of my bed. Her eyes flutter, but she doesn’t argue when I tug off her jeans and slide in behind to spoon with her. “You canceled your flight?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Good.” I nuzzle her neck and reach up to free her damp hair. I scoop it up onto the pillow above us and breathe in the smell of lavender and lemon, forever burning it into my memory.

“Get some sleep, beautiful, I’m taking you home tomorrow,” I say, but I already know she’s asleep. Her breathing is soft and regular, and every muscle in her body has melted against mine.

All is right in my world. My son is happy for the first time in, well, in forever. I’m the sexiest man alive, according to some stupid magazine, and this amazing woman is mine.

Mine for a week.