My Skylar (40 page)

kids.

My watch showed the time as 2:50, so I went back to the window to wait. About 2:55, Mitch

and Henry came outside. Mitch was carrying one of those plastic kids’ basketball hoops. He placed

it down in the middle of the concrete driveway as Henry ran around in circles. Mitch was

struggling to get his attention, but Henry wouldn’t stop. Finally, he grabbed his son, lifted him up in the air and placed him in front of the hoop. He demonstrated how to throw the ball in, but

Henry continued to be more interested in looking down at the ground and running. Mitch lifted

him up again and held Henry’s hands around the ball, guiding them into the hoop. When the ball

went in, Mitch clapped excitedly while Henry started jogging around him in circles again,

completely disinterested in the game.

Looking defeated, Mitch stood there with the ball under his arm. It made my heart hurt to see

him trying so hard. He was such a good father. There was something about that moment,

watching him standing there, facing the challenge alone. I really wanted to be a part of it…not

tomorrow, not next year…but today and forever. I loved him so much.

I grabbed my jacket and ran across the street.

“Hey, you.”

Mitch’s face brightened when he noticed me. “Hey, you. You’re right on time.”

I wrapped my arms around him, and he kissed me.

“I’ve been watching you guys for a while.”

“Yeah…Henry is more interested in chasing his own shadow in the sun than playing

basketball.”

“That’s okay. Everyone has their thing.”

He leaned into me with a smoldering look. “What’s your thing?”

“You’re my thing,” I said, grabbing his shirt.

He kissed me again, teasingly nudging at my bottom lip slowly with his teeth and grunted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He lightly pushed me away. “Alright, get away from me. I’m getting hard.”

I laughed as he moved the plastic hoop to the side. Henry continued to run around in the

middle of a patch of sun closer to the garage door.

I walked over to him and stooped down to his height. “Hi, Henry.” He wouldn’t stop or look at

me.

“He’s in rare form today,” Mitch said.

“If that’s what he wants to do, then he should be able to.”

Mitch passed the ball to me. “You wanna play?”

“Sure.”

He wiggled his brows. “Do you remember the rules to our game?”

“I
made
the rules to our game, Nichols.”

“True.”

We took turns throwing the ball into the hoop, and I was the first to miss.

“Alright,” he said, scratching his chin. “Name one thing you love about me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You have to.”

“There are too many things to name one. I love what an incredible father you are. I love that

you never fully gave up on us even when I had. I love how your face lights up whenever you see

me. I love how you know your way around my body like no one else. I lo—”

He cut me off with a kiss and said, “I’ve never felt so lucky in my life.”

I wasn’t finished. “And I love how you cry like a baby when you come.”

“Ah….you like that? I’ve dubbed it the weeping orgasm. I’m thinking of turning it into a

cocktail. It can be the signature drink at our wedding. We’ll make up the ingredients, and only

we’ll know the true meaning behind it.”

“Our wedding, huh?”

“Yeah. You okay with that?”

I felt my eyes watering. “More than okay.”

“Good. Because I’m never letting you go again.”

I played with the zipper on his hoodie, contemplating what I was about to propose. “I think we

should move in first. How about today?”

He planted his hands on my face and his eyes widened in excitement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. I’m ready.”

Mitch let go of me. “Go! Grab your shit and come back here, then. I want you in my bed

tonight.”

“I just have a question.”

“What?”

“Do you take birds?”

“Only old perverted ones.”

As I was laughing, my eyes wandered to where Henry was playing. He had stopped running

around and had picked up the basketball that rolled over toward him. “Check this out, Mitch.”

Mitch turned around to look.

Henry walked over to the kid’s hoop and casually dumped the ball in. Mitch shook his head.

“He’s got a mind of his own, I guess.”

“That’s a good sign.”

Seconds later, he was back to chasing his shadow.

Mitch tugged at my jacket. “Come inside. Let’s make dinner together. Then, I want to have
you

later for our celebratory dessert. I’ll help you move in your stuff tomorrow.”

“Let me just go across the street and get Seamus and some pajamas.”

When I returned to Mitch and Henry, I laughed at the absurdity of officially moving out of my

mother’s house with nothing but a caged parrot and a handful of clothes.

Seamus started flapping his wings like mad when he saw where we were.

“He seems excited. You think he remembers this place?” I asked.

“I think he’s looking forward to crapping all over me later. That’s what I think.”

Henry came over to the cage and peeked in.

Mitch tousled the boy’s hair. “You see the bird, Henry? That’s a bird. His name is Seamus. Say,

‘Hi, bird.’”

Suddenly, Henry started mimicking Seamus’ flapping. It was quite a sight, the two of them

flapping at each other. Henry started to laugh and even looked back at Mitch for a reaction.

Mitch was beaming. “I’ve never seen him this pumped about anything non-electronic.”

Seamus seemed to be encouraging Henry by flapping his wings faster. When the parrot started

bopping his head, Henry let out a belly laugh then started to copy that, too.

Mitch and I smiled at each other.

“Well, I think this bird finally found his calling,” I said.

When Mitch lifted the cage to bring Seamus inside with us, Henry squealed in protest. “Buh…”

“What did he just say?”

Mitch’s eyes were glowing. “I think he’s trying to say bird.” He put the cage back down.

“Henry, you want to stay outside with the bird?”

“Bud,” he said.

I gasped. “He
is
saying bird!”

“I think that’s his first official word.”

This was definitely a day to remember for multiple reasons.

“Holy Toledo!”

Mitch and I looked at Seamus in unison.

“Mitch, he hasn’t said that in years. That is so weird.”

“Son of a gun. It’s like he knows things are back to the way they should be.”

That’s the thing about true love. It can rise from the ashes because at its source, it’s

indestructible. Layers can be stripped away and lost, but if you’re lucky enough to find them again and put them back together, the end result is stronger than ever.

That was all I could think of as I stood there with Mitch in our basketball court. After all we’d

been through, we found ourselves starting a better life in exactly the place where it all began.

EPILOGUE

SKYLAR

We couldn’t have gotten better weather for a Saturday backyard party. It was warm but dry

with low humidity. Mitch was busy cleaning off the outside tables and setting up a makeshift bar

in preparation for our guests. Janis was babysitting, so we could get everything ready.

When the postal delivery truck drove off, I walked down to the mailbox in my flip-flops and

sorted through the stack of bills and coupon flyers. An international envelope with the words

airmail stamped on the front immediately caught my eye. It was addressed to Skylar Nichols. The

return address was London. The waffles I had just eaten for breakfast felt like they were coming

up on me.

Not today.

There was no way I was going to let this ruin our day.

I looked around as I entered the house and ran to the upstairs bathroom, shutting the door.

She’d better not be trying to make trouble for us. Charisma hadn’t been back to the states once in

the years since Mitch and I reunited. I never had to face her like I feared.

The envelope sliced through my hand, causing a paper cut as I rushed to open the letter. It was

hand-written on expensive-looking stationery.

Dear Skylar,

I suppose I’m the last person you want to receive mail from. I fully understand. This letter is
more for my benefit than yours.

I’ll get to the point. Certain life circumstances as of late have caused me to reevaluate my

actions over the years. I’m facing a health crisis, and while I will spare you the details, let’s just
say we now have something else in common besides a history with Mitch.

I’m writing because I feel as though I need to apologize to you before it’s too late. I’m sorry
for the hurt I intentionally caused both of you. My actions were immature, selfish and cruel. I
don’t expect you to forget, because that is likely impossible. I am, however, asking for your

forgiveness.

I also want to thank you for giving my child the type of mother he deserves. I realize that I

have all but abandoned my son. It’s partly because I was never well-suited to be a mother and

mainly, because I’m fairly certain he’s better off without me.

Congratulations on your marriage. I really do wish you the best. Although I suspect you

won’t believe that, it’s the truth. You and Mitch undoubtedly belong together and are evidence

that fate will always get the last laugh. So will karma. I’m living proof of that.

Regards,

Charisma Warner

My eyes remained glued to the letter in my hands. I didn’t know what to make of it. A vague

feeling of sadness caught me off guard. I did pity her. She would never know the kind of joy I

experienced with Henry on a daily basis, helping him learn and celebrating every single stride he

makes. Moreover, he loved me and showed it in his own special ways. I was the only mother he’d

ever known.

I folded the paper, closed my eyes and said a prayer. If there were any true sign of forgiveness,

it would be praying for the well-being of your worst enemy. After that, I experienced an inner-

peace that couldn’t have come at a better time.

Mitch wouldn’t find out about this letter today. I didn’t want to upset him because this day was

too important to both of us. I took the envelope into the bedroom and tucked it inside my drawer,

vowing to show it to him tomorrow.

We’d been married now for almost three years. About six months after I moved into his house,

he asked me to sit down one night to a movie after dinner. When he pressed play, what really

showed up was a montage of pictures of us that Angie had taken over the years.
All of Me
by John Legend played in the background of the slideshow.

I was dumbfounded. There were shots of just our hands holding together and from when we

were teenagers of Mitch looking at me adoringly when he didn’t know his picture was being taken.

The love was written all over his face even back then. There were shots of him kissing my head

when I was sick, prom night and the Lake George trip. The five-year gap was painfully obvious,

though, before photos that he had taken of us together with Henry appeared. At the very end, the

words
To Be Continued
popped up on the screen, followed by
Will You Marry Me?
I’ll never forget that moment when I turned to him and looked into his eyes. He was fumbling and nervous as he

took the ring out of his shirt. Like I would ever say no.

It was my most cherished memory, second only to the day I married the love of my life during a

small gathering of family and friends four months later. We let Henry have his iPad to stay calm

during the ceremony. It was supposed to be on mute, but he figured out how to turn the volume on

in the middle of the priest’s asking if anyone objected to our union. Henry asked to go to

McDonald’s.

Today would end up being another fond memory someday.

Mitch appeared at the door to our bedroom, startling me. “How’s my beautiful wife?”

He wiped his head with his shirt. Staring at my husband’s body never got old. Men always

seemed to get better looking with age, and Mitch was no exception. He was looking especially

yummy today, unshaven and sporting a summer tan. He took his shirt off altogether and threw it

on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

He unzipped his jeans and slipped his muscular legs out of them. “I just called my mother and

they’re not coming back until noon. I asked her to stay at the playground a little longer. Guests

don’t arrive until one. Guess who’s fucking you as loud as he wants while we have the house to

ourselves for the first time in months?” He pressed his solid chest against my breasts and lifted

my shirt over my head as he said, “My appetite for you is off the charts today. I’ve been jonesing

this since the second I woke up this morning. I couldn’t concentrate outside just now because it

was all I could think about.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?”

He sucked on my neck and spoke into my skin. “I was gonna shower first, but I can’t wait. I

hope you don’t mind me dirty.”

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Hell no.”

“You know I like you dirty anyway.”

He planted soft kisses on my breasts then bent down and kissed my stomach. He stood up, and

his cock twitched when he rubbed it against me.

“Shit, Skylar. Feel this, how hard I am.”

I reached into his boxers. His dick was hot and throbbing in my hand.