“Oh Judge,” I whispered.
“It’s gorgeous,” he explained, as if I was entitled to some opinion on how he laid his grandmother to rest, or more, that I might make some judgment about the fact he didn’t “keep her.” “It seems the sun shines brighter there for some reason, maybe it’s the red rock. But I think she’d like it there.”
“Anyone would like it there,” I said quietly.
“Mm…” he hummed noncommittally.
“So in the end, she did the only thing she could to protect you.”
“She kept me from Texas,” he finished for me. “So…yeah.”
“Have you been through the pictures and heirlooms?” I asked.
“Yes.”
That was short, and he gave nothing more.
So I gave him a look, and it was up to him if he kept going.
“They were a good-looking family,” he said. “Seemed close. Mom was beautiful, always beautiful. Popular in school. A cheerleader. She and Dad started dating when he was a senior and she was a junior. I have their prom pictures, or at least the ones Grandpa took in what I suspect was their yard by some rose bushes. Dad came back from college to be her date when she was voted homecoming queen. And when she was in the court at prom. She didn’t go to college. She got out of high school, worked her way up to an assistant manager in a clothing store at the mall and bided her time until Dad graduated, something he worked his ass off to do early, probably for the same reason as me. To get as far away from home as possible as soon he could do that.”
Even with the very little time I’d spent in AJ Oakley’s presence, I still could absolutely see that.
“They eloped in Tennessee. Granddad was not invited. Glamma, that’s Dad’s mom, was there. So were Grandma and Grandpa. All of them were happy, fucking beaming. Mom and Dad did this on their way to NYC,” Judge kept sharing.
Upon hearing what he called his paternal grandmother, I made the instant decision to be called that by my grandchildren.
“Do you have their wedding photos?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Dad does. He told me a long time ago if I wanted to see them, he’d pull out the album. But it wasn’t a big thing, seeing as they eloped. I’ve just seen snapshots that Grandpa took or had someone wherever they were take of all four of them. And before you ask, she seemed happy, but looking back now, I think she also seemed a little freaked. Like she didn’t know what life meant after becoming homecoming queen. She’d landed the big man on campus, achieved her loftiest goals, her life was complete, and she was only nineteen.”
Good God.
“I don’t know what to say about that,” I noted gently.
“You wouldn’t, because you aren’t like that.”
Now I didn’t know what to say about that or the way he said it, the words having a sharp edge that skimmed the line of acidic.
“Let’s talk about how awesome your family is,” he suggested.
I got quiet.
“You and they cannot know how big that was,” he continued. “What it meant to me. But also Dad, knowing I have that. And Dru too.”
“I know how big it was,” I said softly.
“Oh yeah, forgot, you started bawling,” he teased.
I scrunched my nose.
He kissed it.
Then he kissed my mouth.
After that, he whispered, “Just you and me now, Coco. Okay? I get you want to know, you need to know, and you’re concerned for me. But I just want it to be us for a while. I want to be all about you and not about any of that. Until we have to face it again tomorrow. Can you give me that?”
He knew the answer, but I verbalized it anyway.
“Of course, honey.”
That was when he kissed me.
Our first time together sexually, or at least the making love part of it, had not been repeated since. Both of our tastes were of a different bent.
On my part, there was the thrill that Judge in everyday life was sweet and laidback, thoughtful and affectionate, and in bed he was assertive, aggressive, powerful and domineering.
There was also the fact that in everyday life, I felt most everything—including the happiness and well-being of everyone I loved—was my responsibility, and that meant I could be hyper-sensitive and controlling. So it was not only a turn-on, but a relief to give over to Judge when we were having sex.
But that night, I knew from the beginning it was going to be different just with the way he kissed me.
He moved on to touch me the same way: reverent, lingering, lazy.
I reciprocated.
I knew what this was about.
It was about the feelings we had for each other.
It was about the time we had before us that stretched long with possibility and promise.
It was about touch and sound and staring into each other’s eyes and sharing without speaking.