“No, I mean it. I’m glad to be had by you.”
I’m confused. “What? I don’t know what that means.”
“You have me. I’m happy you have me. Because I’m yours. Does that make sense now?”
The pleasant tingles wash over me.
I want to stop the whispering game now because here come the feelings again.
“Can I go and get Sassy?”
His hand brushes my hair and he kisses my forehead. It’s so sweet my heart aches. “Anything you want, baby.”
14
Crosby
My Ridley is asleep on top of my chest, her breath tickling my chest hairs, her tiny feet hooked around one of my slightly bent knees.
Sassy is sleeping on my shoulder. I’m stroking Ridley’s hair with one hand and Sassy's fur with the other.
This is as close to perfection as I’ve ever gotten.
The only thing more perfect could be if she would ever agree to marry me.
I’d better lock that down soon. I can’t imagine anyone at her college letting her go to waste.
“Your feelings are safe with me, you know. I’m not one of the people who will wait until your guard is down before kicking your legs out from under you. I want you to stand as tall as you can and know that I’m here for you.”
The best part of knowing Ridley is not her kiss, though it is decidedly the best kiss in the world.
No, the best part of being with Ridley is holding her in my bed on Christmas Eve night. Feeling her steady breathing, her chest rising and falling against my chest.
I don’t care that I’m pinned down with my head at a weird angle against the headboard.
I will lie here all night if it makes her feel enclosed, protected, safe.
I don’t know how long I lie there awake, watching the snow hitting the bedroom window, gathering on the window pane. Not long enough. Every moment I’m asleep is a moment of our life together that I miss.
15
Ridley
Christmas morning arrives with something even better than sliding down the banister as a child to open presents under the tree in the family room.
Not that it takes much to outdo my childhood Christmas mornings. Mother and Daddy never got along. Mother forbade me to leave out milk and cookies for Santa Claus because it would attract ants. As a child of privilege, I know I should never complain about anything, but nothing ever felt like how Christmas seemed to feel in other families. Everything I asked for, I received, kind of. It was always a better, more tasteful version of whatever I asked for. It was like I was constantly getting the message that my choices and preferences were the wrong ones.
So on this morning, waking up on top of Crosby’s big chest with Sassy curled up next to us, I’ve never been happier or more content.
Crosby peppers my forehead with kisses until I’m fully awake. I smile and allow him to continue. Soon, though, Sassy begins acting weird.
I sit up and watch her. She’s hopped off the bed and has begun pacing and mewling quite loudly. Thank god we’re at the far end of the house and Mother can’t hear her. At least I don’t think she can.
“What’s going on?” a sleepy Crosby asks.
“I think she’s having her baby. Oh shit. I need a box. I don’t think I want her to have those babies outside even if her house has a heat lamp. Do you want me to take her to my room?”
But Crosby sits up and puts two hands on my shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. Look.”