Um…no. No judgies, but no thanks.
After rinsing out the towel, I pulled my bottoms back on, washed my hands, and opened the door in time to hear the oven’s buzzer going off. The heavenly scent of chocolate cake hung in the air— chocolate cake and sex.
Not a bad combination on a Friday night.
“Are they done?” I asked as I reached the kitchen. Earlier I’d seen a stacked washer and dryer in the pantry, so I ducked in there and set the towel on the washing machine.
“I think so.” Nick set the pans on the counter. “Now we let them cool, and then frost them. Up for some Scrabble while we wait?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Nick poured us some more scotch, retrieved Scrabble from the top of his coat closet, and turned the cakes out onto cooling racks before sitting down next to me at the island.
I opened the box. “Now, no cheating, Lupo. I’ve got my eye on you.”
“I’d like your ass on me. Want to sit on my lap?”
“Tempting, but no. You stay in your chair, I’ll stay in mine.”
We played one game, drank too much scotch, and laughed so much my sides hurt. At one point,
Nick tried to use panky and I told him it wasn’t a word.
“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “I can use it in a sentence. ‘The panky in the kitchen tonight was delightful.’”
“Still not a word.”
“Did you know what I meant?”
“Yes, but—“
“It has a definition, so it’s a word!” He pulled me off my chair and onto his lap. “Or perhaps you need a demonstration of the word.” He slid his hand down the front of my shorts.
“Nick, come on. Again already? I thought you had to frost the cake.” But his fingers were already working their magic, making my knees open wider and my spine go slack against his chest.
We never did frost the cake that night. Or finish the game. Or empty our glasses. Instead, Nick decided to prove to me how much better the beanbag was than a couch.
And after two hours of panky on it, I had to agree.
Eventually, we made it upstairs, although my leg muscles were so fatigued that I desperately wished for a banister to hold on to. We collapsed onto the bed, both of us on our bellies.
“This is insane,” I said. “I haven’t had this much sex in one day since…” Our wedding day. “Since college.”
Nick laughed. “Me neither.”
“Stop it. Really?”
“Really. But I like it. Maybe we should get married.”
“Haha, very funny.” And yet so not funny. I went to get off the bed but he dragged me back down. “Relax, Coco. I’m kidding.”
“I know,” I lied. “I’m just getting up to brush my teeth.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess I should go put the cakes away. Hope they’re not all dried out tomorrow.”
“If they are, we can start over.” I ruffled his hair, and he let me. “I like baking with you.”
#
I brushed my teeth, turned out the light, and got under the covers, barely able to keep my eyes open. It had to be one in the morning, I’d been up since six, and I was not a night owl by any means. Nick’s bed was amazingly comfortable, and I fell asleep even before he got back upstairs, waking only when he slid between the sheets, smelling like chocolate and toothpaste.
“You smell like mint chocolate chip ice cream,” I told him sleepily. I opened my eyes to see him turn onto his side, one elbow beneath his head, facing me.
“Still your favorite kind?”
“Yes.”
“Red still your favorite color?”
“Yes.”
“Fall still your favorite season?”
I smiled. “You really do remember a lot of things about me.”
“Told you.”
We lay in the dark, silent for a moment. I wondered if he would sling an arm over me, or what he’d say if I flung a leg over him. It didn’t have to mean anything; I just felt close to him and liked that he would sleep near me tonight. He felt reassuring somehow. Like a forgotten lullaby you hear again years later, the melody taking you back to a time when you felt safe and loved.
He moved his pillow a little closer to mine. “This is nice.”
“Mmhmm.” My eyes drifted shut.
“Poor baby. You’re tired.”
“Mmhmm.” I was already half-asleep when I felt his hand brushing the hair back from my face. A second later his lips rested briefly on mine.
“Night, Coco.”
“Night.”
His hand kept stroking my hair, and a moment later, he spoke again. “Do you ever think about what would have happened if I hadn’t left Vegas?”
“No.” I was so tired, I answered him honestly. I didn’t have the energy to make up a lie. “I don’t let myself.”
“Why not?”
“No point,” I murmured drowsily. “And it makes me sad.”
“Me too.” He exhaled, his hand still moving slowly over my hair. “Although I think about it all the time.”
I woke up slowly, feeling content and happy, although it took me a minute to think of why. When I opened my eyes, the room was light but not bright, and the bed was unfamiliar but not strange.
Oh, right. It’s Nick’s bed.
Smiling and stretching, I turned over, expecting to find him sleeping beside me, but he wasn’t there. My face fell—actually my heart dropped too. It was kind of irritating how crushed I was that he wasn’t there. You should be glad he’s not here…spontaneous sex in the kitchen is one thing but sex in a bed, in his bed, might be too personal.