Page 57 of Waiting for Tuesday

John grinned, then pinched the space at the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Ah, fuck it.” He threw the tissue in the trash, crossed the room, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. Right there, in front of his boss and best friend, not hidinganything.He pulled away a second later, and my fingers covered my lips. I hadn’t expected that at all, and I was sure my shock was plastered all over my face.

Jake gripped the back of his head and nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He turned around and walked back out to the kitchen. “I’ll give you guys a moment to collect yourselves.” He closed the door again behind him, but he wasn’t angry like I feared, and I could almost swear I saw him smile before I heard the door click.

I picked the pillow up off the couch and whacked John in the arm. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

He bit his lip and pulled me into his arms. “Sex with you is never a bad idea.”

I laughed and pulled in a deep breath. “Do you think he’s okay with this?” My throat constricted with the question, but I needed to know.

Ne nodded. “He’ll be fine.”

“Areyouokay with this?” I told him only a week ago I didn’t need all the answers, but I needed them now. I needed them so desperately.

He nodded again, pulling me closer. “Are you?”

I closed my eyes and nodded into his chest. “Yes.”

* * *

That evening, I invited John back to my house for the first time. It felt like the natural progression to our relationship, but even so, it seemed like such a big deal, inviting him into my home, my life… everything.

This afternoon, when he kissed me like that in front of Jake, it was as though he was screaming to the world that he’d claimed me. It filled me with a confidence I didn’t even realize was missing until then.

His arms were filled with brown paper bags as he followed behind me up the steps to my apartment. Mrs. Sanders peeked her head out of her screen door and gave me the thumbs up sign to tell me she approved, but I couldn’t imagine anyonenotapproving of John. He was handsome, funny, and had one of the most giving hearts I’d ever been witness to… and I couldn't believe he was mine.

The plan was for me to make dinner. My famous vegan tacos that even my meat-eating friends like Becky loved. We’d stopped by the store on the way over and purchased all the ingredients to make them, plus a bottle of organic wine too. We’d had dinner together plenty of times in the bed of his truck, or the floor of my office, even huddled up in a blanket on his patio. But now, today, it felt different, almost like we were celebrating.

When I pushed open my apartment door, Whiskers took one look at him before turning around and making a run for my bedroom. He always did that when strangers came over—ran for my closet, which was his safe haven at times like this. But John wasn’t a stranger anymore, wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, and Whiskers better get used to it.

John placed the groceries on the island and took a look around. Unlike his home, mine reflected so much of the person I was. Inviting him inside was like cutting open my chest and handing over my heart, red, vulnerable, and raw.

My walls were covered with things I’d picked up in my travels. Things that spoke to me, things that no one else hadbecause they were handmade and one of a kind. The tree rubbing from a two-hundred-year-old redwood, a tapestry from a tribe we stayed with for six months in Oklahoma. But the things that were the hardest to lethim see were the things that were out of my own soul. Paintings that reflected everything I wanted in life. Like the baby suckling at her mother's breast, the family walking hand-in-hand down the beach, and the man with arms so large he could wrap them around the entire world.

I didn’t realize, until standing there next to him, how transparent it all was. Seeing them through his eyes, they looked almost desperate.

He didn’t speak for a moment, just looked from one to the other, to the abstract paintings of reds, oranges, and violets. All the colors of a sunset, because to me they all represented beginnings. Because every day was a chance to start over, to live the life of your dreams, and I guess I’d always been a dreamer.

I took a deep breath, and my shoulders lifted and fell with the hugeness of it all. He took me by the hips and pulled me closer. “So this is you?”

I nodded, rationally knowing he was talking about my place, emotionally thinking he was talking about so much more than that. That he was seeing all of me for the first time, all my secret parts, and he was asking if they were true.

He looked around again, to each painting, then back to me. “It’s perfect.”

I nodded again then bit my lip because his words made me so happy. “So are you.”

He grinned but pulled his chest back so he could look at me better. “I don’t think anyone has ever described me that way.” He looked up to the ceiling as if trying to recall. “No… Sexy as hell, yes. Witty, all the time. But perfect? I’ll have to add it to my list.”

I grinned at him then turned out of his arms and started unloading the ingredients from the bag. “You should add cocky, too. That one definitely needs to be there.”

He came up behind me, pressing his body against mine and caging me in against the counter with his arms. “I’ll show you cocky.”

“Mmmmmm…” I leaned back against him.“You need to stop,” I whispered, “or we won't eat, and then I’ll get cranky.”

He bit my ear, making me groan, then pushed himself off the counter. “We wouldn’t want that.” He grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter then walked to the other side of the island.

I pulled the cilantro and walnuts out of the bag. “The opener is in the top drawer by the refrigerator.”

We spent the rest of the evening making dinner, drinking wine, and talking. Like a normal couple. About life, places we’d been, books we’d read, and then finally we made it back to my bedroom, where he finished what he started that afternoon in the office.

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