The Imperfections

“She’s your mother, Alyssa.”

“She’s busy with her own life,” she tosses back, bending to push down her panties.

I am suitably distracted from the topic of her mother at the sight of Alyssa’s entirely bare body, and she knows it, too. A playful little smile tugging at her lips, she catches her breasts in her palms and caresses them.

“You want to keep talking, or you want to take your clothes off?”

There’s only one correct answer to that, so I strip off my clothes and follow Alyssa into the shower stall. Water beats off her shoulder and splashes onto the floor outside, so I slide the glass door shut then wrap an arm around her and back her up toward the shower wall.

With a little “Oh” of surprise she follows my lead, smiling up at me. When I lean in to kiss her, she wraps her arms around my neck. When I reach down to touch her, she eagerly spreads her legs to make room for me.

As I’m kissing and fucking this beautiful woman who belongs only to me, I tell myself there’s nothing to worry about. I should stop avoiding phone calls and putting off inevitable things. I should stop worrying that just because she made a dumb mistake before she met me, she’d do something like that to me now.

I tell myself all those things, but it doesn’t change a goddamn thought in my head. The pathways in my mind were already burned into this untrusting pattern long before Alyssa came along, and deciding to have a relationship with someone I know has done something like that before? Not ideal, unless my goal was worrying myself to death.

Not for the first time in my life, I try to shake all these concerns I should be able to talk myself out of.

Not for the first time in my life, the doubt remains.

17

Brant

“Brant, you can’t. It’s too big.”

I flick a glance at the jeweler on the other side of the glass case as she eagerly works to dispel Alyssa’s reluctance and earn her commission. “Oh, that looks so lovely on your finger.” Glancing at me, she says, “Doesn’t that suit her so well? Just look at that sparkle.”

Alyssa sighs with guilty pleasure and bites down on her bottom lip, inspecting the simple solitaire on her left ring finger. “It is gorgeous, but it costs too much.” Reluctantly, she begins to slide the ring off her finger. “Do you have one a little smaller?”

“We don’t need to look at one a little smaller,” I interrupt. “If that’s the ring you want, that’s the ring we’re buying.”

Shaking her head, Alyssa argues, “No way. That’s just the engagement ring, not even factoring in my wedding band or yours. It’s too much to spend on jewelry.”

“It’s my money to spend,” I tell her offhandedly. Then I look at the saleslady. “We’ll take this one.”

Affecting a deep, theatrically masculine voice that must be Alyssa’s terrible imitation of mine, she says, “You’re right, Alyssa, it’s our money now and I respect your opinion.” Pausing and smiling, she returns to her normal, sweet tone of voice. “Thank you, Brant. You’re going to be the best husband ever.”

Rolling my eyes at her antics, I tell her, “I didn’t mean it’s not our money, but I’m not gonna cheap out on your engagement ring. I’ve got the money to spend, so if you like the ring that much and it puts a smile on your face, then this is the one I’m gonna buy you.”

Butting in needlessly, the saleslady tells Alyssa, “Take it from an old married woman, honey—let ’em buy you the expensive gifts while they’re willing to.” She laughs, and the sound grates on my nerves.

I’m not terribly fond of salespeople to begin with, but this one is so fucking chatty I’d drop any amount of money Alyssa wanted me to just so I wouldn’t have to stand here a minute longer.

“Didn’t you say there’s a similar ring half a carat smaller that’s a lot cheaper?” Alyssa asks her.

The saleslady’s face dims at the prospect of losing a few hundred dollars, but she nods her head anyway. “Would you like to see it?”

“No,” I snap, before Alyssa can answer. “We’re done here. Get the box and the bill and let’s get on with this.”

Alyssa looks up at me like she wants to argue, but she can see I’m losing my patience with this ring shopping ordeal. “Are you sure?” she asks. “You really don’t have to spend this much on my engagement ring, Brant, I’d be happy with much less.”

Leaning over and stealing a little kiss to soften the sharp edges of my surliness, I tell her, “I’m positive.”

With the worst of it over and my patience running thin, the saleslady brings over a couple options for complementary wedding bands for both of us. Annoyed as I am that we have to keep shopping, Alyssa drains some of it with her excitement.