Meadowlarks (30 page)

             
“Oh, that was all those two. No birthday is a small occasion around here.” I smile and point over to my sisters-in-law, who are sitting next to their husbands around the fire.

             
“Goodbye, ladies! Thank you for coming!” Maria shouts from her seat and smiles warmly.

             
After they've gone, I go inside to get myself a beer.

My d
ad follows me in.

             
“Blaine, come with me.” He starts walking toward the staircase, and I follow him, wondering where he's about to take me.               At the top of the stairs, he reaches up and pulls on a short rope, bringing down the large wooden set of stairs that leads up to the attic. It creaks as it comes down, as it hasn't been opened in years.

             
“Up there.” He points. “There's a trunk, a big brown one. Open it and let me know what's in it.”

             
I look at him questionably, but do as I'm told.

             
The attic is exactly as you'd expect—old, dusty, and warm. There are boxes upon boxes, old lamps and old chairs with torn seats or broken legs. In the corner by the only window to the outside is a large trunk. The locks aren't closed, and when I open it, the smell of mothballs and old linen trails into my nostrils.

             
“Okay, dad, there's some sheets...” I lift things up here and there, trying to see what else there is to find. “Some books, a few boxes...”

             
“Is there a pink box?” he shouts from the bottom of the staircase.

             
“Umm...” I search and find it under a stack of old newspapers. “Yeah, one right here.”

             
“Bring it to me, please.”

             
I slowly back down the stairs and hand the box to my dad. He carefully opens it, closing his eyes like he's praying. When he reaches in, his eyes open and they're full of tears.               He clears his throat and composes himself, pulling out a small string of pearls.

             
“These are your mother's.”

             
I stare at the delicate string of beautiful and imperfect pearls; they look so small and fragile in his old, worn hand.

             
“I want you to give them to your beautiful bride.” He examines each bead and rolls them between his fingers. “Your mom wore these on our wedding day.”

             
I feel myself starting to choke up. “Dad...Are you sure?”

             
“I'm sure, my boy. I'm sure.” He looks up at me with glistening eyes. “That's what she would want.”

             
“Thank you.”

             
He passes me the pearls, almost hesitantly, as if he can feel her in those beads and doesn't want to let her go. I take them into my hands and then do something unexpected.

             
I hug my father. Not just some small embrace, but I fully engulf him in my arms. He seems surprised at first, but when I feel his body relax, he puts his arms around me, too.

             
“Thank you, dad.” I start to cry. “I'm sorry.”

             
“You're sorry? Whatever are you sorry for?” He's still hugging me, and I'm quickly transformed into a small five year old boy again. I've just wet my bed, and this time he's not angry; he hugs me back and tells me it's okay, that it’s nothing to be sorry for. This is what I've missed out on; this is what most kids get on a daily basis from their parents. This is all I've ever needed.

             
“I'm sorry mom died.” I choke on my tears. I can't control myself.

             
“Blaine!” He releases me and pushes me back from him, his hands on my shoulders.               He looks terrified. “Please!”

             
I'm standing in front of him, a thirty year old man, wiping my tears and sobbing like a baby. I still have the pearls clutched tightly in my hand, like I'm the one afraid of letting them go now.

             
“She gave me
you
.” He clears his throat again. “If it was between you or her, and she had a choice, you'd still be standing here in front of me today.”

             
I sob.

             
“I'm the sorry one, Blaine. You deserved much more than I gave you.”

             
“You gave me everything, dad.” I hug him once more, desperate to feel that warmth again.

             
We both compose ourselves, and I nervously start to laugh. I feel so much better; I've swallowed this down over and over again for my entire life. Finally I became too full and ready to overflow.

             
I put the pearls back into the box and close the lid. I put the box on my dresser for now; I'll give them to Addison later, when we're alone.               We go back downstairs where everyone else is still sitting outside around the fire.

             
“Hey, there you are!” Addison leans up in her chair, and I bend down to kiss her cheek.               “You okay?” I guess she can see the redness in my eyes.

             
“Yeah, I'm great.” I smile and sit down beside her.

             
Alex has just told everyone about Riley, the baby, and their plans for her to move to Wyoming.

             
“Babies are truly a blessing. You're going to make a great father, Alex.” Maria beams from her chair and looks lovingly at her own three children. “When are you two planning on having little ones?” she asks, looking over at Addison and me.

             
Addison smiles at her. “Whatever happens, happens.”

             
It’s her usual saying for things that life delivers. I'm really curious now, and I've decided that I can't hold off asking her why she doesn't seem eager to have children. Aren't most women at some point in their lives? I won't do it now, but when we're alone. No one mentions babies again during the rest of the night.

             
We say goodbye to everyone. My dad shakes my hand and winks. I'm thankful he does because if we hug again, I'll probably wail some more.

             
“Thank you so much, girls. You're wonderful. I can't get over how lovely this night was.”               Addison calls over while they're each getting into their cars.

             
“Tired yet, birthday girl?” I ask, trailing my fingers down her spine and gently patting her backside.

             
“Exhausted,” she breathes.

             
“Well, I better get you up to bed then.” I smile and swiftly scoop her up in my arms. She laughs and kisses me deeply.

             
Upstairs in our bedroom I lay her down and she scoots to the middle of the bed.

             
“Take that dress off, please.” I grin and she sits up, lifting the dress over her head, throwing it onto the floor. She lays back down against the pillows, only wearing her bra, panties and a small grin of her own.

             
I walk to the end of the bed and start to slowly unbutton my shirt. I shrug it off my arms and it falls on the floor. Next comes my signature white t-shirt; I lift it off my body even slower, letting her see me inch by inch. Once it's off my head, I narrow my eyes sensually at her. She chews on the corner of her lip and shifts in the bed. She's anxious, and I fucking love it.

             
“So, birthday girl, did you get enough presents today?” I bite my lip, too, and run my hand across my abdomen, slowly over each muscle.

             
“Definitely not,” she breathes, her eyes blazing sapphire.

             
“Oh, no? Is there something else you want?” I ask huskily while unbuckling my belt. I ease the leather strap from the loops in my jeans.

             
She's panting now, and I'm trying my hardest just to keep myself controlled.

             
“Get up here, Blackstock,” she commands, impatiently.

             
“Mmm mmm.” I shake my head. “Not yet, darlin'.”

             
I unbutton my jeans and pull them open; pushing them down, I'm left in my boxers. I climb over the end of the bed and crawl in between her legs. Her scent intoxicates me as I run my nose up her chest and into her neck. I kiss her soft skin gently, not touching her anywhere else. She's breathing heavily, lifting her body into mine.

             
“I want you so bad,” she whispers in my ear and sucks my earlobe. I close my eyes and push my body down into her.

             
I'm going to try and draw this out as long as I possibly can. I lower myself down her body, slowly kissing every inch, pulling on the edge of her panties with my teeth and kissing from hip to hip.

             
“Blaine, I can't handle this!”

             
“Yes, you can.” I inhale between kisses. And she grabs a handful of my hair in her hand, gripping tightly and breathing heavily. Her panties end up on the floor with her dress and my clothes. I lay down on my stomach and lift her knees up; she pulls them into her arms.               I devour her right there, eating
my
piece of birthday cake, licking and pulling every tiny detail until she screams and shudders. Her knees fall, and her hands grip my hair again.

             
“Baby! Ahhhh!”

             
I withdraw my mouth, and her body even winces from my hot breath on her tender flesh. I take the same route back up her body, kissing her again, and she leans up to release the clasp on her bra, tossing it off. I have no idea where it ends up. I tower above her, holding myself up with my hands. She caresses my chest and holds my face with one hand.

             
We kiss, our tongues rolling all over the other, and I don't stop as I slowly pull off my boxers and ease my tip into her beckoning heat. Just the tip, though, and it drives her off the edge.

             
Her hips buck, wanting all of me. I give it to her, every inch and then some. I lay down on top of her, holding my weight up with one arm and the other gently squeezing her breast.

She bites my shoulder and digs her nails in my back. I know she's about to lose herself. I push in deeper and harder, and I feel her start to pulsate around me. The tightening grips me to the core, and we both orgasm at the same time.

              A tangled mess of skin, sweat, heat, and bed sheets is all that's left in the aftermath. Panting, I lower myself down on her, still inside of her, and our bodies stay connected as one for just a little longer.

             
When I roll onto my side, I look at her beautiful face. She's looking at the ceiling and smiling.

             
“I have something else for you.”

             
She looks at me like I'm crazy.               “I don't know if I can handle anything else from you just yet.”

             
“Okay, let's shower and then I'll give it to you.”

             
She still looks unsure but smiles and agrees.

             
In the shower, I have to feel her again, and she doesn't resist me. She turns herself so her back is against me, and she places her hands on the tile of the shower wall. I pull her hair off her back, and it falls around her shoulder. I kiss her neck and back as I ease into her; this time I keep a slow pace, tenderly filling her over and over again.

             
When she unravels, she turns her head to the side and reaches behind mine to pull it down to kiss her lips. Breathing heavily into her mouth, I push the last inch in to her, and I can feel my knees start to buckle. I hold onto her hip tightly, and my body slowly comes down from its high.

***

             
“What's this?” she asks sweetly when I hand her the small pink box. Addison sits cross-legged on the messy bed with her wet hair wrapped in a towel.

             
“Open it.”

             
She does and looks at me when she pulls out the string of pearls.

             
“They were my mom's.” I clench my jaw, quickly pushing back my emotion. “My dad wanted you to wear them on our wedding day.”

             
“Blaine...” She breathes. “I don't know what to say. They're just...
beautiful
.” They looked out of place in my dad's hands, and even in mine. But they're just perfectly imperfect in hers.

             
I want to surge and tell her that he hugged me, and even though it would sound stupid to most people, it was everything to me. But I don't tell her. I keep it to myself and smile.