Never Giving Up (Never #3) (35 page)

“I don’t think we could have gotten more beautiful weather,” Tilly said, placing one of her cheesecakes on the picnic table outside. We were busy decorating for Mattie’s party, but I took a very long and hard look at her cheesecake. It had been a while since I’d tasted it and my mind wandered to the last time. I felt the blush come over my face and I turned away from Tilly not wanting her to see me thinking about her son in compromising situations.

“Very true. You never know what the weather’s going to be like on the Oregon Coast.” Usually, Lincoln City in August was a pretty safe bet, but we did luck out with the cloudless blue skies and no wind—which was key. We couldn’t have all our pink and purple princess decorations flying away.

“Birthday girl is up from her nap.” I heard Porter’s voice from behind me as he came from the house. Just his voice was enough to send shivers of desire coursing through me, but when I turned and saw him holding my world in his arms, it was like sex personified. His muscled arms encircling our baby was nearly enough to make my ovaries implode.

“Hey, Sweet Girl,” I said as they walked up to me. She reached her chubby arms for me saying loudly ‘Ama! Ama!’ which was Mattie’s baby version of Momma. Porter was Ada and we didn’t argue with her about it. As he passed her to me, I felt his mouth caress the shell of my ear with a whisper.

“Is that cheesecake?” His words against my ear caused me to moan quietly and then I felt his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Mmmhmmm.” It was all I could respond with. He gave me a playful yet promising slap on my rear and then picked up the cheesecake and started back towards the house. “Where are you taking that?”

“I’m hiding it in the very back of our refrigerator for later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me. I laughed and tried to stop him but got caught up by the cars arriving in the driveway and immediately moved into party-host mode.

Today was one of those days when I really had to steal a moment to take in how lucky and blessed Porter and I were. Mattie was happy and healthy, completely recovered from all her health scares and hadn’t been sick a day since she was released from the hospital so many months ago. Our families continued to be incredibly supportive and really took immense joy in all things Mattie. Our parents couldn’t get enough of her and we always had a plethora of people ready and willing to babysit. Even Megan and Patrick took joys in spending evenings and weekend afternoons with her. They weren’t ready to start their own family yet, but took great pride in being the best aunt and uncle ever.

Kalli came to celebrate and even brought the man who I was convinced was going to make her the happiest person alive—if only she’d let him. He loved her, anyone within ten feet of them could tell, but she was still trying to allow herself to be loved. To me though, she was the best friend I had ever had. I missed her when she was away, but treasured the time she spent with us when she managed to make it to Portland. That was just another reason I wanted her to wake up and see the man in front of her for what he was offering. Perhaps letting herself be happy would bring her closer to being settled, and if I was lucky, she would settle somewhere close to me.

I watched as Joy and Faith chased Mattie around the yard, Brook and Matt chatting with Porter, all of them watching our girls and laughing at their silly games.

“Hey, Ella, sorry I’m late. You know how it goes.”

I turned to see Melody walking towards us, a big purple gift bag with a plume of balloons in her hands.

“Mel! I am so glad you could make it!” Of all the stress and heartache that came from Mattie’s hospitalization, I was so happy that we gained a friend from the whole ordeal. Melody was bright, honest, funny, and sweet. After Mattie was back to her normal self, Melody and I started meeting for coffee every week and eventually she was just as much a staple in our lives as Megan or Kalli. The best part? Mattie
loved
Mel. They’d formed a bond in the hospital that really touched me. And just as much as Mattie loved Mel, you could tell that Mel loved my baby just as much. All our lives were enriched by her presence.

“Lell! Lell! Oons!” We all laughed as Mattie ran up to Mel and jumped up and down at all the balloons she was holding. She leaned down and tied one on to Mattie’s wrist and then followed suit when the other two girls requested their balloon bracelets as well.

“You’re a big hit with the balloons, Mel,” I said laughing.

“What can I say? I know what my girl likes.”

“Let’s get you something to drink,” Porter said from behind me, taking Mel to the table filled with food and beverages.

For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening the adults sat around laughing and talking, watching the children play. We opened presents, we grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, we even lit off a few fireworks we had saved from the Fourth of July. Porter and I helped Mattie open her presents and spent an hour reminding her to say ‘Thank You,’ which in the end sounded a lot like “Ank Ooo,” but it would do. We watched her tentatively eat her very first piece of cake, waiting for either her father or me to take it away, confused when we encouraged her to eat it. We took pictures, we laughed, and more than once I caught Porter watching me. His stares always made my blood boil with the heat of his love, but today I understood his gazes to be more than just appreciative and lust filled. Today he looked at me like he was thankful. I tried to return the meaningful looks whenever I caught him giving them to me, but made a few mental notes to properly thank him for everything important in my life later in the evening.

When it became obvious that Mattie had hit her limit of fun for one day, we changed her into her pajamas and kissed her goodnight, placing her in the car seat that had a permanent place in the back of my parent’s car. Their gift to us for her birthday was an evening alone. At first I was not happy with the idea of spending the night of her birthday away from her, but eventually I was convinced by my husband who told me stories of how she would never even remember us sending her away and would likely sleep the entire night away regardless of where she was. I couldn’t really argue with him about it and a whole night alone did sound fabulous. Eventually we both agreed and now watched as my parents drove away with my
toddler
in their car.

“I can’t believe she isn’t a baby anymore,” I whispered quietly, trying to wipe away the single tear that had managed to escape before I could stop it. Porter’s hands wrapped around my waist from behind and his chin rested on my shoulder.

“No, I guess she isn’t, is she? But she’s a beautiful and smart little one-year-old. She has to grow up, Ella. Think of all the fun experiences that are still in store for us.”

Perhaps dads just lacked the gene that made mother’s ache at the thought of their baby not being a baby anymore. No one ever warned me that birthdays were tough business for moms. I’d spent the day remembering her birth, thinking about the tiny baby that I had held in my arms just one year ago today, and comparing that image to the chubby, smiley, happy child that roamed around our yard all day. She’d eaten cake for goodness sake. She’d soon have her last bottle. Where did it stop? I needed a distraction from my sad yet happy thoughts so I moved to clear the food from the table.

Everyone stayed and helped clean up and then said their goodbyes, leaving Porter and I on the porch, waving to our friends as they left us to enjoy the rest of our evening. I leaned up against the railing, watching the taillights of our family and friends drift away when I felt him come up behind me, his arms caging me in, his mouth hot against my neck again.

“Want some cheesecake?” He rasped against me.

“Is that code for something?” I grinned.

“Nope. I really want some cheesecake.” He pushed away from me and walked back into the house. I rolled my eyes with a smile, but followed him into the house anyway. I noticed some of Mattie’s toys hadn’t quite made it back into the toy box and started picking them up absentmindedly.

“Babe, stop it. Don’t start cleaning. Why don’t you go upstairs and get in some comfy pajamas and I’ll bring up enough cheesecake for both of us?”

“Now
that’s
an offer I’ll take you up on,” I said, dropping the toys on the floor at my feet with a smile. “Bring some wine too.”

“What kind of a man brings his wife cheesecake with no wine?”

“Not my man,” I said with a laugh and walked towards the stairs. When I walked into the bedroom my eyes grew wide with shock and my hand came to my chest to hold in the breath I felt escaping from me.

The bedroom was bathed in candlelight and there were vases with all different kinds of flowers scattered around the room. Hanging on the door to the bathroom was a hanger on which hung a new and very expensive piece of lingerie. I walked over to it, fingering the soft silk, trying to think of when Porter had enough time to orchestrate this without me knowing anything about it.

I took the silk and lace off the hanger and went into the bathroom. If he’d gone to all the trouble of setting this up, the man sure as hell was going to see me in a sexy piece of lingerie. The fabric felt wonderful against my skin and I made a note to myself that I needed to wear sexier things to bed more often. Just having the silk trailing against my thighs made me instantly feel sexier. I should try not to wear the flannel nightgown
all
the time.

When I came out of the bathroom I was met with the sight of my husband carrying a tray with plates of cheesecake and wine glasses. He stopped as soon as he saw me and I watched his throat constrict as he swallowed, his eyes roaming all the way from my head, down to my feet, and back up. His eyes lingered on my breasts and between my legs longer than any other area and I felt the heat pooling there, as if his eyes made it happen.

“You found my gift,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, his eyes still roaming over my body.

“I love it,” I whispered softly. He finally found his senses and set the tray down on the dresser. He turned back to me and my heart rate picked up as he slowly stalked towards me.

“You look . . .” he paused and I stopped, waiting for him to find his words. “Beautiful.” He took another step towards me. “Perfect.”

I was lucky in that Porter never seemed dissatisfied with my body after having a baby, but that didn’t stop the insecurity from seeping in from time to time. My body was different than it use to be—not worse or better—just different. And even though we never had a problem being intimate, having a child in the house changed things between us. When before we would make love throughout an entire night, now we were lucky if by the time we were done we hadn’t woken the baby. The frequency of sex and the ability to really let ourselves enjoy one another, gave way to naptimes and trying to be quiet so that we could get some sleep afterwards.

We were parents. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but life was different now.

When he was just inches from me, I held my breath and closed my eyes, anticipating his touch. I could feel his eyes on me and I knew he was enjoying looking at me as much as I enjoyed having his gaze burn over my skin. I slowly let out a sigh when his hand finally landed on the curve of my hip, and I leaned into his hand when I felt it gently cup my cheek. His thumb grazed over my cheek and I worried my bottom lip between my teeth.

“God, Ella, you have one sexy mouth.”

Before I had a chance to respond, his mouth was on mine, covering it, melding to my lips. A soft moan escaped me and I wound my hands up behind his neck, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck that had grown long in the summer months. I pulled him into me, used my tongue to beg him to let me in. His hands both found my face and he angled me perfectly against him and took everything. The kiss went from tentative to scorching in one instant and I was more than willing to risk being singed from getting too close to the flame.

There was nothing between us—no space, no air, no fear. Whatever he was, I was that too. We were the same in that moment. He walked me backwards until my legs bumped up against the mattress. I sat down, breaking our kiss, only to peel away his belt and pants, shoving them to the ground around his ankles, needing him to be free of any obstacles. I needed access. I needed connection.