Page 104 of Over the Moon

Twice.

A guttural sound escaped his lips as warm liquid filled my mouth, and I swallowed it down as he continued riding out every last bit of pleasure.

I loved making him feel good, just the way he always knew how to make me feel good.

And then I looked up at him and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Can I let go now?” he asked, a sated look in his eyes as he watched me.

I nodded, and he reached down and pulled up his briefs and shorts. Before I could process what he was doing, he reached beneath my arms and pulled me up so my legs wrapped around his waist, and he hugged me close.

“I guess I’m not in control when it comes to you,” he whispered against my ear, and I smiled.

“That’s okay. Neither am I.”

And that was the truth.

“This is much easier than I expected,” I said to Ellie as I jotted down the baking instructions in my notebook.

“Yeah, I’ve made it so many times I could do it in my sleep now,” she chuckled. “And I love that you write it down in a notebook because I have all my recipes written on notecards, as well.”

I filled her in on how it was something that I started doing with my mom before she passed away. Ellie listened intently, and instead of doing what most people did, which was to say how sorry they were and how awful that must have been, she did the opposite.

“Okay, the lasagna is in the oven, so let’s refill our sun tea, and I’ve got some delicious cookies for us. Why don’t we sit at the table and chat? I want to know everything about your beautiful mama.”

I slipped into the corner banquette with a bunch of pretty throw pillows and reached for the glass of tea after she refilled it.

“Thank you so much,” I said, just as she set down a plate of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. “Ahhh… these are my favorite.”

“I remembered you said that the first time you came to Sunday dinner, and I put it in the vault.” She tapped the side of her temple. “It was all in hopes that one day I’d get you all to myself for a chat.”

My chest squeezed at her words.

Ellie Chadwick was the kind of mom people dreamed about. She was funny and sweet, she could cook and bake, her home looked like something out of a magazine, and she took no shit from her kids.

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you so much. You’ve made me want to learn how to cook,” I chuckled. “I literally know how to make grilled cheese sandwiches and spaghetti.”

“Well, I learned how to cook as an adult. I didn’t know how to do most of this stuff in my twenties.” She reached for a cookie, and I did the same. “So tell me about your mom.”

“Well, she was brilliant. She was a professor of literature, and she loved to write, as well. She and my father met in college. He was a hockey player back then, and she was an English literature major. She’s the reason I love to read, because she had a huge collection of books, and of course, I devoured everything from the romance genre,” I chuckled.

“I’m a big reader, too. We’ll have to swap recommendations,” she said, and I felt my cheeks heat because I doubted Ellie read the steamy books I loved.

She must have noticed my discomfort because her lips turned up in the corners.

“You don’t need to worry about anything being too steamy for me. I read it all,” she said with a chuckle. “So, you’re mama loved to read and to write. Tell me more about her.”

We spent the next hour talking about some of my favorite memories with my mother. The Sunday walks we’d always take and our summer camping trips that I still remembered so vividly. I told her about the last few months with her, how brutal it was, and how I was with her when she passed.

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. “I know how hard that must have been to have to watch her suffer. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. It’s just something that you have to deal with the best you can. It can get better at times, and then a memory can slap you right in the face.”

I pulled back and swiped at the single tear streaming down my face. “You sound like you know a thing or two about grief.”

She nodded. “My sister had a complicated delivery with her first child, and she died shortly after she gave birth. She and I were more than sisters; we were best friends. We talked every day, multiple times, most days.” She shook her head, her eyes glossy as she spoke of her sister.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry, Ellie,” I said with disbelief. “And was her baby okay?”

A wide grin spread across her face. “Yes. You know him well.”

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