One Year Later

I finish shooting a text off to Robyn, my new boss at Epsilon Media, before stepping into the lobby of the apartment building where Aaron and I live.

I keep referring to everything about Epsilon as ‘new’ even though I’ve already been there for three months, but seeing as I learn about a dozen things there every single day, the novelty of the job has yet to wear off.

During the past year of advertising school—my final one— I decided to stop chasing after firms and to work so hard on my freelancing that by the time I graduated, I’d have firms chasing after me. I enlisted Aaron as a business partner, and his photography helped propel things to the next level. With loyal clients that would follow us wherever we went, and a reputation for innovation, Epsilon was practically begging both Aaron and I to join their team when we finished school.

We now work just a few offices away from each other in their headquarters. I thought we might get sick of seeing each other so much, especially after we made the leap of moving in together, but I still feel a little thrill every time I see him walk into the room with a smirk on.

It’s also often accompanied by the urge to wipe it off his face with a sucker punch after he makes some kind of stupid joke, but I guess that’s one part of our relationship that’s never going to change.

He’s already home when I walk through the door of our apartment. I can hear him crashing around the bedroom and my stomach rumbles when I smell what has to be pizza coming from the kitchen.

“I got delivery,” he calls. “I figured we wouldn’t really have time to cook.”

“You mean you wouldn’t really have time to cook,” I shout back. “You just started packing now, didn’t you?”

He just keeps tossing things around the bedroom and I know I’m right. We have to leave for the airport in an hour, and while my suitcase has been sitting ready for the past two days, Aaron probably hasn’t even found his own suitcase yet.

We decided to mark the one year point since Aaron’s spontaneous trip to Portugal by going back to visit the country again. We didn’t really get an opportunity to travel last year, and there are still so many places I haven’t been, so we’re heading off to Lisbon this evening and renting a car for two weeks before spending a few days with my family.

I grab a piece of pizza just as Aaron pokes his head into the kitchen and asks if I’ve seen his suitcase.

“Meu Deus.” I roll my eyes and put the pizza down, moving to open up the tiny closet in our entryway.

There’s no pictures of Tiffany tacked to the walls of this one, but we do have the shot of her wearing Aaron’s beanie framed and sitting on a shelf in the living room next to some house plants. A few of my friends think it’s weird for me to be okay with that, and sometimes I agree. I should probably feel jealous of her, of all the time I know Aaron still spends thinking about her.

I don’t, though. I love him and she’s part of who he is. I know Aaron wouldn’t be the person I know him as if it weren’t for her. He goes to grief counselling once a month and it’s done wonders in helping him sort out his feelings. It still makes me ache to think he went for so long dealing with everything on his own.

The anniversary of Tiffany’s death was only a couple of months ago, and Aaron took me to see her grave for the first time. I thought it would hurt him more, that he’d head into some kind of downward spiral, but he just seemed calm and thoughtful. I brought lilies to put on the grave and he told me she would have liked those way better than the stuffy bouquets her mom always brings. He held my hand and told me she would have liked me a lot.

I hope that’s true. I didn’t say it out loud, but as I placed the flowers on the grass, I sent a little message to her in my head:

Don’t worry. I’m taking good care of him.

“What do you think? Aviators or Ray-Bans?”

Aaron’s voice jolts me back to the present. I turn to find him alternating between modelling both pairs of sunglasses.

“Tough choice,” I say, laughing as he starts posing like a swimsuit model. “I think you’d better bring both. Now hurry up or we’ll miss our flight.”

* * *

“You know what’s funny?”

I pause mid-lipstick-application in the bathroom of our hotel room. Aaron is out in the main room, probably stretched out on the bed as he waits for me to get ready for dinner tonight. We’re three days into our trip and just got to Porto this morning.

“Enlighten me,” I call back to him.

“I’m supposed to be photographing the wonders of Portugal,” he answers, “but I’m going through my photos right now and almost all of them are of you.”

I scoff. “Um, excuse me, I am one of the wonders of Portugal.”

“Very true. My mistake.”

I finish up my lipstick and stop to take a look at myself in the full length mirror. I’m going to try to persuade Aaron not to mess up my hair and makeup, but I have a feeling I’ll need to redo everything before we leave for dinner; I’m about to walk into the bedroom wearing nothing but a cherry red set of strappy lingerie.

“Ready to go?” I ask, popping my head out of the bathroom.

“Whenever you are.”

His eyes are glued to his camera and he doesn’t look up until I’m standing at the foot of the bed. I watch as his face goes from shocked to impressed to dangerously turned on in the space of a few seconds.

“Holy shit. You look...muito bom.”

I laugh. “Is that language learning app finally helping with your Portuguese?”

“English isn’t a nice enough language to describe how you look right now,” he answers. “Turn around so I can see all of you.”

I do a little twirl and hear him suck in a breath at the sight of the straps that criss-cross over the top half of my ass. He jumps up off the mattress and hangs his camera strap around his neck, hands already adjusting the lens.

“Get on the bed now.”

I put my hands on my hips. “But I just finished my hair and makeup. I don’t want to get them all wrecked.”

“You wouldn’t have come out here wearing that if you weren’t expecting to get more than just your makeup wrecked. Now get on the bed.”

I make a show of being annoyed, but I can already feel myself getting wet. I love when he’s demanding like this. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of him telling me what to do as he moulds my body into just the right shape to get the image he wants. In most parts of my life, I’m always the one in control, always the one making decisions. Giving in and obeying like this is one of the only times I really let go of everything and forget about anything but pleasure.

He adjusts the curtains and switches on the bedside lamp, painting the room in a soft glow. At his direction, I shift myself onto my stomach and prop my chin in my hands, flirting with the camera as he tells me to act as seductive as I look. He tries out a few different poses, the tension between us growing each time he reaches out to adjust my posture. When he finally lifts the camera from around his neck and sets it down on the bedside table, I feel like my skin is on fire.

“I know we’re going to dinner,” he says, grabbing hold of my ankles and dragging me to the edge of the bed, “but I’d like to start with dessert.”

We don’t leave the bed for almost an hour after that. Aaron teases a climax out of me with his tongue, and then two more with his cock as he takes me hard in three different positions before finally letting himself release. We’re a sweaty mess by the end, and I have to rinse off and touch up the just-been-fucked look before I’m ready to head out into the city.

I swap the lingerie for some more practical underwear and pull on a denim skirt and loose white t-shirt. We’re about to head out the door when Aaron puts a hand on my arm.

“Wait,” he tells me. “I got you something.”

He heads back into the bedroom and digs around in his suitcase for a bit. When he walks back over he’s holding a jewellery box. My heart starts to pound.

He notices the terrified expression on my face and laughs. “Relax, Peaches. It’s not that kind of a box.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I can’t say I haven’t thought about what’s next for us, but while we’re both sure we’re done looking for anyone else, I still feel it’s just a bit too soon to put a ring on it.

“Good,” I answer, trying to hide my panic. “I would have attacked you if it was.”

“Duly noted,” he replies. “When the day comes, I’ll make sure I’m wearing Kevlar.”

He hands me the box and I pry it open.

“I thought you could wear it tonight,” he explains, as I take in the sight of the necklace.

It’s a tiny silver boxing glove attached to a simple chain. I lift it off the padded cushion and hold it up to the light.

“Aaron,” I breathe, “it’s perfect.”

“I saw it in one of the markets we visited and I knew I had to get it for you. A badass like you needs some badass jewellery.”

He holds his hand out for the necklace and I turn so he can fix the clasp around my neck. I feel the cool metal brush against my skin.

“You amaze me every day, you know?” he continues, brushing my hair out of the way. “I didn’t just get this because it made me think of your kickboxing. I got it because it made me think of how strong you are, in everything you do. You fight so hard for yourself, and for the things you care about.”

“Things like you,” I say, turning around. I stare fiercely into his eyes, knowing words alone won’t be enough to show him how much this means to me. “I care about you. I care about you so much, Aaron. I’d fight until I couldn’t move anymore, until I couldn’t even breathe, if it was for you.”

He cups my face with his hands. “I know you would. I’d do the same, although I doubt I’d last even half as long as you.” He presses his lips to mine for just a moment and then pulls away. “I’m glad I have you in my corner, Peaches.”

I punch him right in the gut and he doubles over.

“What was that for?”

I toss my hair over my shoulder and open the door. “For calling me Peaches,” I answer sweetly.

He shakes his head and we leave the hotel together, our hands reaching for each other and fingers lacing together as we step out into the warm night air.