Page 92 of Infatuated as They Come
“Tell me what you want then. I won’t laugh.”
“Okay.” I stuck a leg out of the water, curling my toes as I fidgeted nervously. “Well, first of all, I don’t wanna stay in New York forever. You already know that. It’s nice to visit and I love studying there, but it’s too busy. It’s not really the kind of home I want. Permanent home, I mean.”
“What kind do you want?”
“I just really wanna be able to see the sky. It sounds dumb, because you can see the sky everywhere, right? But I like it when there’s nothing in the way. It’s different in New York. Too many buildings. Dallas is kinda the same way.”
He stayed quiet for a second. “You wanna live in the countryside?”
“I think so. I’d really like that. We used to go to this place a lot when I was a kid. This little old farmhouse. It’s near Lampasas, like, three hours away from Dallas. It’s so beautiful there.” I sighed deeply. “I haven’t been there in so long.”
“I’ve never heard of that place.”
“I think you’d like it. There’d be so many things for you to paint there. All the trees and the open sky and the flat land,” I said a little dreamily. “We’d go there every summer. I loved it there so much, but I guess my parents kind of grew out of it even though I never really did. But we’d stay there for a couple weeks, right in the middle of the summer, and I swear every day it was like there wasn’t even a single cloud in the sky. Fresh daisies would grow in the front and me and Mom would pick a bunch and then my dad would make us dinner on the barbeque and the days always felt like those lazy summer afternoons. Where the sun just doesn’t set and everything feels warm all over, like the day’s not supposed to end. And I remember we had a lemon tree in the backyard, and my dad would put me on his shoulders and I’d always grab the ones that were up super high. But every day there felt so… Soright, you know? Like I was meant to be there. I’d love something like that…”
I was rambling and being silly and wistful, but for a long, wonderful minute I imagined what it would be like to have that with Sawyer. My breath caught in my chest as my brain rattled off image after image: us in that house, with the white panels out the front and the porch that let you see all the flat land and the blue sky that never stopped. His fingers laced with mine, streaks of paint on his skin because he’d finally have the chance to just focus on his art and not worry about bills or rent or anything. Us together, time moving slowly, the gentle afternoon breeze touching my skin as Sawyer kissed me under the lemon tree that stayed growing andgrowing.
“That’s what you want?” he asked lowly. “That’s your fairytale?”
I felt one of his hands move from my stomach to my left hand. Then there was the distinct feeling of his thumb rubbing up against one of my fingers. My ring finger. Maybe he was imagining what I was. That sort of life: the kind where it was slow and lazy and every day felt like summer no matter the season. The cozy house, the lemon tree, the daisies. The sort of life where we were married, where I was his and he was mine forever, where I had his last name.
“That’s what I want,” I said, voice soft.
“And I’m there in this fairytale?”
“Of course. Who’s gonna plant the lemon tree for me?”
He chuckled. “Got no experience planting trees, but I’ll try for you.”
“In my head, you’re there. And you’re really happy and you’re not worried about paying bills or rent. You spend all your time painting and we’re in love and every day is slow and calm and peaceful, and you love me and I love you. That’s enough for me. Is it enough for you?”
“More than enough,” he said.
“You don’t think it sounds silly?”
“No.” He held me tighter. “I know I’m never gonna be a millionaire with a big house. That wouldn’t make me happy, anyway. All I’ve ever wanted was, you know… a normal life. Not having to worry about how I’m gonna pay for dinner or looking over my shoulder making sure I wasn’t making a mistake in front of my dad. I’m used to having to fight for things. My whole life I’ve had to work for everything. God, I used to have to do chores around the house just so my dad would feed me when I was a kid,” he said with a dry laugh.
My hand found his, a frown quickly forming on my face at that awful image: of a tiny, little Sawyer staring up at his dad with big green eyes and an empty stomach. “I’m sorry he did that to you. That he treated you that way.”
“I shouldn’t have brought that up.” He shifted behind me. “I’m ruining themoment…”
Shaking my head, I turned slightly so I could look up at him, the side of my face resting on his chest. “I told you that you can always share stuff like that with me. You can tell me anything.”
Leaning down, he gave my shoulder a slow kiss. “I know.”
“Everything’s gonna get better,” I said. “It will. Things are gonna be so good for you.”
“Everything’s already better,” he said, his fingers softly stroking at my hip. “I’ve got you. Everything’s so much better with you. You make every single day good. Not sure how you manage to do it, but I’m so fuckin’ grateful for you. How’d I get so lucky to have someone like you?”
“I love you,” was the only thing I could say to that.
“I love you too.” He dipped his hand into the water, swishing it around. “We should get out. Water’s getting kinda cold, huh?”
I hadn’t even noticed. We had been in the tub for a good half hour. We got out, quickly grabbing our towels and making our way back into the much warmer bedroom. I told Sawyer to meet me in front of the fireplace after he got changed, so he grabbed a heap of blankets before asking me if I was gonna put on my “rich girl underwear”. He was right, but I shooed him out so there’d still be a semblance of a surprise left and slipped into the soft silk yellow and pink set I had worn the night before my birthday—the one Sawyer claimed was his favorite.
I joined him a few minutes later. He pulled me into his lap before setting me down on the pile of blankets, the fire crackling to our side as he kissed me deep and hard. He kissed my lips and cheeks and neck, moving down further and further, his hands undoing the little front tie of my top.
The orange glow from the fireplace was the only light in the room as Sawyer made love to me, his touch so gentle but firm at the same time. His hands found mine, pinning them either side of my head, his green eyes staring right into my own. My legs wrapped around him, our foreheads pressed together and Sawyer’s voice all low and gravelly as he told me how much he loved me and how beautiful he thought I was and how good I felt.
