Pieces For You (45 page)

“It’s been a crazy six months…we’ll get there someday,” I said, glad to be reminded of the dream vacation as something to look forward to.

“Isn’t the Culinary Institute on break next week?” he asked, trying to sound casual.  As if he didn’t know my schedule as well as I did.

“You know it is, but there is no way were are going to find a decent place to rent this late…it’s peak season and last-minute airline tickets will be through the roof.  Why don’t we plan something for after I graduate?  We’ll have time to make the arrangements, and it’s only five months away.”

His body shifted and a paper appeared in front of my face.  I focused on the page; it was an airline e-ticket confirmation in our names from New York to Turks and Caicos booked for next week.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“When did you book these?”

“When you enrolled.  Life was so crazy and I knew school would be an extra stress, no matter how much you loved it.  I checked the dates and saw you had a break, so I made the reservations.  I figured you were bound to need a vacation by now.”

“This is freaking awesome!” I shouted.  “We are going on vacation!”

He squeezed me tighter, appreciating my enthusiasm.

“You are the best boyfriend ever,” I said, raising my head to kiss him.

“I’m not completely selfless.  I get to enjoy white sandy beaches, drinks, and, most importantly, you in a bikini.”

“Thank you,” I said, cupping his cheek in my hand.  “You make it so easy to love you, not just because you book us fabulous vacations, but in all the little ways you show me how well you know me and love me.”

“Lo-baby, it comes naturally…loving you is what I was born to do.  There is nothing I wouldn’t do to see you smile or hear you laugh.  No distance I wouldn’t travel to be by your side, no war I wouldn’t wage to protect you.  Being with you, loving you, knowing you love me…that’s my definition of heaven.  I get to spend every day in heaven because of you, so all those little things I do, they’re only glimpses of everything you give me.”

"The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise.” -Miguel de Cervantes

One Year Later…

It was a beautiful summer afternoon when Griffin suggested we pack dinner and head to one of the small north shore beaches.  It had been a long week on my feet in the kitchen, though I loved every second.  I had finished culinary school in the spring and was now working at a local French restaurant with a stellar reputation.  The beach would be quiet on a weekday evening, perfect for a relaxing picnic. 

Basket packed and wine bottle in hand, we headed to Cedar Beach.  The sun was beginning to meet the horizon, painting the sky with brilliant shades of orange, pink, and purple.  The Long Island Sound was calm, only a few boats dotted the sea at this time of night.  It was a flawless evening and I absorbed every detail hungrily like food for my soul.

We held hands and walked along the shore in comfortable silence until all signs of humanity faded away, leaving only us and nature’s splendor.  Ahead I spotted several glowing orbs, almost blending into the sunset, but too bright to be a part of it.  As we approached, the orbs became tiki torches.  They were positioned to form a perfect circle, the outline completed with crushed stones and bouquets of irises and green orchids.  In the center of the circle was a thick beige comforter with colorful accent pillows that matched the bouquets.  I stilled to soak in the magic of the scene, afraid it would disappear like a mirage if I blinked.  Griffin swept me into his arms, carrying me over the rocks before setting me down on the blanket in the center of the circle.  He smiled at me before unpacking our dinner and opening the wine.

“You did all of this?” I asked, still at a loss.

“Most of it.  I had a few elves to help and stand guard ‘til we arrived.”

“Well, Santa, with this setup I assume I’ve made the nice list, but I have to warn you…I’m going to be
very
naughty in a little while.”

“With
this
Santa, that kind of naughty will put you at the top of the nice list,” he replied with a panty-melting smile.  “Here you go, love,” he said, handing me a glass of white wine followed by a plate of cheese, fruit, and French bread.

As I tasted my first sip of wine, music began to play.  The song was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.  I searched for the source when I heard Griffin’s voice singing to me, confused by the fact that he was sitting in front of me, sipping his wine. 

“Gotta love Bose portable SoundDocks.  The sound quality is amazing,” he said nonchalantly.

“Yes, and
your
voice sounds great coming out of it,” I teased, hoping for an explanation.

“I heard this song a while ago and it made me think of you.  I wanted to sing it for you, but not at The Stop with an audience.  You probably know it, but I switched up the arrangement a little to make it work for me.”

“Start it over and turn up the volume so I can hear it better,” I requested.

He increased the volume and restarted the song before sitting behind me with a leg on each side of mine, providing a backrest for me to lounge against.  I listened to the words and recognized the Trisha Yearwood song, “Where Your Road Leads”—Griffin’s version was slower and more intimate.  I let the words sink in, the commitment, tenderness, and love was so stark.  The lyrics were a promise.  When the song ended, the guitar accompaniment continued quietly, as if the vow would never end.

“I have something for you…I made it, so don’t laugh,” he said, a hint of nerves shading his voice.

I felt him reach into his pocket behind me and heard a soft thud on the blanket beside us.  He looped his arm around me and let something dangle from his clenched fist.  I caught the swinging—I-don’t-know-what—between my fingers and examined it in the soft light provided by the torches.  It was a strange-looking stone, dangling from a chain.  As I examined it more closely, I saw that it was green with varying shades of striations running through the entire stone.  I also couldn’t help but notice that the stone looked like it had been destroyed and pieced back together.  I gasped as the significance dawned.  He made me into a stone…or he made a stone into me, and it was beautiful.

“It’s called malachite—one of the oldest recorded stones used for jewelry, dating back to ancient Egypt.  According to what I read, it’s supposed to symbolize protection, love, endurance, and transformation.  Kind of perfect, right?  I have to confess I learned most of that after I chose it though.  Initially I was drawn to it because it matched the color of your eyes,” Griffin said, gazing into the eyes in question.  “I bought a perfectly round polished stone and shattered it bit by bit, until it was a pile of rubble—then pieced it back together with epoxy,” he said with a smile.  “But this is only half…”  He reached down beside him and raised his other arm around me to show a similar stone dangling from a chain. “Go ahead.”

I raised my free hand to grab the other half and moved their jagged sides together—the two halves fit perfectly, creating a whole sphere.  You could just make out the scars on the surface of the circle, but it felt solid and whole in my hand.

As I released the pieces, Griffin gently shook them apart and handed me half.  I saw that the short chain connected the malachite to a metal circle.

“A key chain?” I asked, surprised by the choice.

He opened his palm to reveal the half he had been holding was also attached to a key chain, but on the end of his was a key.

“I want your ridiculously large wardrobe to move back into my house…permanently.  I want to hear you complain about my socks being left on the family room floor.  I want your favorite pots and pans in my cabinets.  I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you on my chest every night.  Lo-baby, will you live with me?”

“Hell yes!” I said, turning my head to kiss him.  “Can we negotiate who gets which closet in the master bedroom?”

“In a minute, although that seems like a pointless conversation…I know you’re taking both,” he teased.  “Take your key, love.”

I placed the empty key chain I had been holding in his palm and reached for the key chain that held my new house key.  I grabbed the chain link so I could savor the sight of the Griffin stone next to my key and smiled.

“There’s one more thing, baby.”

He took my hands in his and stared into my eyes.

“Love, I want you to take my name.  I want you to be Samantha Melany Evensen.  I want you to be my best friend, my wife, and the mother of my children.  I want to love and protect you until the day death parts us…and if by the grace of God I go first, I promise I will be waiting for you to join me in whatever follows this life.  I want to be with you for eternity because without you, I am just broken pieces of a whole.”  He rose on one knee and reached into his pocket, returning with a ring between his fingers.  “Will you marry me, my love, and make me whole?”

Tears filled my eyes, spilling over the rim and streaking down my cheeks. 

“Yes, yes, yes.  I would be honored to be Samantha Evensen.  I would be honored to be your wife and the mother of your children.  I love you with every broken little shard of me and I always will.  There will never be anyone for me but you.”  I sealed our agreement with a kiss as he slid the ring on my finger.  “I’m not ready to be a mother yet, but I think we should practice to make sure we have all the mechanics right for the future.”

As the last words left my lips, I flung myself at him, tackling him to the ground.  My kiss was hungry and possessive, claiming the man I loved, marking him as mine.  He met me stroke for stroke, reciprocating, marking me as his—writing it on my soul.

My hands drifted to the buttons on his shirt and I slid each one through the hole, following the path of exposed flesh with my lips.  When I had removed his shirt, I whipped my own over my head, too impatient for his assistance.

His hands traced my ribs around my back as he sat up with me in his lap and released the clasp of my bra to expose me to him.  His hands traveled to my breasts as his lips caressed mine, teasing me until I was mindless with desire.  As my urgency grew, I rocked against him, longing for the intimate connection that joined us in every way possible.  This was the last man I would ever be with in this way—the idea thrilled me. 

I reached between us to release the button on his shorts as he rolled me onto my back, sliding my skirt and panties down my legs.  He leaned back to appreciate my body, which was fine by me as it gave me the opportunity to examine the merchandise I had just committed to purchasing.  God this man’s body was spectacular.  Every sculpted muscle called for my attention, inviting me to become reacquainted.  We hummed our approval in harmony. 

I couldn’t wait another minute and he was taking his sweet time, so I reached around and grabbed his rock-hard ass, pulling him to me forcefully.  I was lucky he braced his weight despite his surprise, but even that brief delay as he adjusted his weight for my benefit was too much.  I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled myself up to him, finding the link I was desperately seeking.  His breath rasped out of him in shock.  I was never timid in bed, but this was a new level of assertiveness.  I took him because he was mine to take.  After a beat, his surprise passed and he picked up my rhythm, easily retaking control.  He took me as I had him, pushing me higher and higher with every smooth glide.  The ocean breeze cooled our damp skin as we both reached for ecstasy.  He rose up on his knees, bringing me with him, going deeper than he had ever been.  He had me on the brink, but I was clinging to the edge by my fingertips, waiting for him.

“Together,” he said, drawing my eyes to his.

As if by his command, both of our bodies tensed and shuddered.  I fought to keep my eyes locked on his, wanting him to see my pleasure and love.  I was in a state of rapture, blissful shocks traversing every cell in my body.

As my tremors subsided, he lay back, cuddling me to his chest where I could listen to his breath and feel his heartbeat.  We snuggled together for several minutes before one of his arms left me and reached to the side.  When it returned, he handed me a flashlight.

“What’s this for?” I asked, my brain still fuzzy.

He kissed my hand in response and a quick sparkle caught my eye.

I whipped my hand free of his grasp as if on fire and flicked the switch on the flashlight.  There on the fourth finger of my left hand was my definition of an engagement ring.  It was a fiery round diamond—easily a carat and a half, which looked huge on my tiny hand—surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds set in white gold.  Two diamond-encrusted arms extended from each side of the halo, joining as one before disappearing between my fingers.  I could not have designed a ring more perfectly suited to my taste.

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s you,” he replied, pleased with my approval.

“I love you, Griffin.  You are such a good man—smart, caring, sexy, thoughtful—you make me want to be a better woman.  Thank you for loving me.”