He smiled with relief and regret. “You really are the best. You know that? The best husband ever chosen for me.”
“Also the only husband chosen for you.”
“And that makes you the best.” He grinned his shit-eating grin, but real emotion lurked behind it.
Trust is built on small steps and compromises. I knew I would win his someday. When I did, and he could relax fully into the relationship, I knew he’d also earn mine.
We opted to eat on my small patio when the bratwurst finished cooking. He’d put some sweet potato fries in the oven before he started the sausages, and we had a bagged salad mix to go with it all. Early summer nights in Colorado can be beautiful, or they can shit on you with thunderstorms and golf-ball hail. This one remained clear and warm, still bright as the sun played keep-away with the Rockies in the west.
“We still headed to your folks’ house tomorrow?” I asked, dipping a fry into ketchup.
“You bet we are. Taking my truck, by the way.”
His truck had arrived within three days of his homecoming, shipped atrightnowspeed by his eager parents. I’d expected a monster that took up four lanes and guzzled diesel. A modest, bright blue Tacoma hybrid had showed up instead. Both its interior comfort and its gas mileage beat the pants off my venerable Outback.
“I’m not going to protest. Riding more than a couple hundred miles in my car does evil things to your body.” I pulled a face. “I keep meaning to see if replacing the seats with ones from a junkyard would help.”
“Putting it out to pasture would help. That fucking thing has four-hundred-thousand miles on it. It’s done its damn time.”
“It is immortal and will live forever.”
He laughed. “You’re such an ass. All right. Keep your undead car. We’ll just use my truck instead and let that poor thing rest.”
A companionable silence settled as we pretended we were not shoving phallic objects into our mouths, and pretended we weren’t watching each other deep-throating said phallic objects. We lived and breathed sexual tension, stealing hungry glances and touching ourselves side-by-side each night. The more porn-centric part of my mind obsessed over the anticipated feel of his hand on my cock, the way his cock would taste on my tongue, and whatever other naughty scenario it could spin up in moments when I did not need to think about sex.
Jackson was driving me insane. I loved every minute of it.
“My fireteam’s getting together for a barbecue next weekend,” he said. “Would it bother you if I stopped by for an hour or two? Just to see how they’re doing.”
“Go for it,” I said. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“Nah. I’m not going to stay long. Bader twisted his knee on our last retreat and I want to see if it’s doing better, Paulie’s grandfather had a stroke and she hasn’t had time to message about how he’s doing, you know. Catching up. Not a thing to interrupt your night over.” He kept his eyes on his plate.
Another small sting, and again, one I understood too well. I’d been where Jackson was. He’d had to tell his family, his fireteam, and probably half his platoon that Jody had made off with his man while Jackson fought on Mars. As someone who’d returned an engagement ring to a jewelry store two weeks after he’d bought it, I knew how devastating it was to spread the news over and over again that your relationship had ended.
I also knew the gut-wrenching bravery it took to introduce the new squeeze. The moment you put that relationship out there, you became vulnerable to the same pain you’d lived through already. Admit to it, show your new lover around, and you might jinx it before you know it’s solid.
Jackson hadn’t met any of my friends yet. I hadn’t walked around the teacher’s lunchroom crowing about my new husband. It felt too soon after I’d shamefully confessed to all those same people that Joan had left me. I didn’t call any of them close friends, but I interacted with them on the daily. That had been hard enough.
The fireteam was another part of Jackson’s family. It ached that he didn’t want to introduce me yet. But I hadn’t fought with them, or bled with them, and they needed to talk about events Jackson didn’t feel comfortable sharing with me yet. They wanted their space to be soldiers, a fireteam, and Jackson wanted more solid ground before he dared to share us with his nearest and dearest.
I got it. I approved of it. I didn’t have to like it.
“No problem,” I said. “You guys have a good time. I’ll look forward to meeting them someday.”
“I won’t stay too long, I promise,” he said, and I felt his leg shift under the table so he could touch my foot and knee with his. “I’d rather spend the time with you. You really are the best. I mean it. I’m- I’m glad we got matched up, Bastian. You’re a hell of a man, and I’m lucky to have you by my side. We’re gonna have a great life together.”
Warmth spread out from my chest and eased the stings away.
* * *
After we’d eaten, and basked together in the remains of the day, we did the less-sexy-than-laundry task of washing dishes. I figured we’d hit the couch and the television after that, as we usually did, but Jackson took my hand to lead me into the bedroom instead. I got my hopes up, if by “hopes” you mean “hyperactive penis”.
That’s the name of my next band, by the way. Hyperactive Penis.
“You said your hip and back feel better when your muscles are loose and relaxed,” he said, as he turned the bedside lamp on a low dimmer. He disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with a bottle of lotion. “So let’s make sure you’re feeling good tonight. Strip and lay on the bed, babe.”
Inevitably, he’d want me to lay face down, which would be a neat trick with the raging stiffy I had. I gave it my best all the same. When my pants came off, his eyebrows went up, and a slow smirk crawled over his lips. “That’s all I have to say, isn’t it. Strip and lay on the bed.”