27

Jamie

I spentthe night wrapped in Gavin’s arms. Warm beneath the old quilt, settled in the soft mattress, tucked against his side. We kissed. We kissed a lot.

He’s under the distinct impression that I was trying to give him an out of our marriage. That before his accident we were unhappy and I’m fabricating stories so he can leave and not feel guilty. He spent hours of the night coaxing me with his mouth and his hands. Kissing and kissing and kissing.

I don’t think I’ll ever look at kissing the same way again.

His mouth was a promise, a gift, a revelation. It hurt as much as it exalted.

Finally, I fell asleep, warm and feeling as though I’ve been smoothed out and all my hurts, and rough edges, and pains are gone.

When I wake, Gavin’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at a piece of paper. I rub at my blurry eyes and shift on the creaky mattress. The dim morning light shines through the window, spraying over us. From the kitchen, I smell buttermilk biscuits, eggs, and crispy bacon. Gran must’ve already come down for a Saturday morning breakfast. I bet because of yesterday, she’s keeping an extra watchful eye on things. It looks like she’s decided this fake marriage is going to stick, and if necessary she’s going to use her shotgun to make it work. This time, though, she’ll be pointing the shotgun at the bride and not the groom.

When I shift, Gavin looks over his shoulder, the light falls on his sandy brown hair and his unshaven jaw. His eyes land on my lips, still swollen from last night, and he gives me a heated look.

“Morning.”

I sit up in bed and pull the blanket over my chest. “Morning.” My voice is scratchy and my lips tingle under his gaze.

I glance to the paper in his hands. He holds it out. “I was looking over our marriage license.”

My heart kicks up speed, knocking around my chest. He’s figured it out. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or…depressed.

“It’s our wedding anniversary today.”

What?

“It is?”

He laughs and holds out the paper. I take it and look down at the date. Sure enough, Diedre put today, eleven years ago, as the day of our fictitious wedding.

“Don’t we celebrate?”

I shake my head, unable to say anything.

“Well, we’re going to today.” Gavin reaches over and plucks the paper from my hands. “I spent the last few hours going through all our photos, looking at this license, looking around the house. I don’t remember any of it. It seems like you don’t want to remember any of it. So I want this anniversary to be like our first. The day we begin again.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I thought we could start by going to the studio in town. You can show me around, let me see what you do, what you love. I want to learn.”

My heart flutters, opens like a glass flower pulled from the heat.

“I called your gran down. She’s going to watch the kids while we’re there. Okay?”

Slowly, I nod and Gavin’s eyes warm, like a bright summer sky.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my mouth. The only thing that stops us from continuing is Gran banging a spoon against the cast iron pot and calling that breakfast is on the table.

* * *

Gavin standsnext to me taking in the studio, the furnaces, the bright orange of the melted glass. The studio smells of beeswax and burnt cherry wood and the acrid taste of smoke lingers on my tongue. Gavin has a small smile on his face, he’s been watching me with this secret expression the whole while I’ve been showing him around. It’s making me short of breath and unsteady. When he runs his fingers along my back I hold myself back from melting into him.

He wants to make a glass flower. He says he wants it to be his anniversary gift to me. When he said it might not look good, but it’ll be made with love, I couldn’t say no.

“First you take the punty.” I hold the long metal rod out to him. I’ve already gone through all the safety precautions and described the equipment.

Tags: Sarah Ready Romance
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