Baby Come Back(52)

Tristan was sitting next to me; his arm was wrapped around my shoulders, he pulled me close against him.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he said, tilting my chin upward gently with his fingers, lowering his lips to mine.

“I love you, Mrs. Sinclair,” he whispered to me. “I want to make love to you.”

“Here? Now?”

Tristan chuckled, “If I thought Mom and Dad wouldn’t be looking out the window to see what had delayed us since driving up a few minutes ago, I would definitely take you right here and now.”

Tristan could still make me tingle when he said things like that. Our intimacy and sex life still sparked on a daily basis. Neither time nor children had changed any of it. I thought briefly of the sick relationship that I had been involved in with Nick. My excuse had been it was my ‘first love’, though in retrospect, I knew that love had not made an appearance in that relationship; only stupidity.

Then there was Ian. I suppose in retrospect, Ian had been my escape from Nick. He had been totally the opposite of Nick - which was lucky for me. Ian had been gentle and pretty much let me have my way on anything I wanted; but the passion, the intimacy was only lukewarm. Having had nothing to compare it to, it had seemed like love to me. I had cared for Ian; there was no doubt about that. I had been crushed to discover his unfaithfulness to me. I think looking back, that it had more to do with pride than love.

Tristan had been the one to teach me about love and intimacy; he had been the one to show me how to trust again. Tristan had also taught me that it is perfectly okay to need someone; everyone does. I had been afraid to need; somehow I had equated that to weakness. I never wanted to be the weak person that I had been with Nick; I never wanted to call all of the shots as I had with Ian. Tristan was so perfect for me.

“Hey, sweet baby,” he said, “I bet the kids are down for the night. Shall we relieve Mom and Dad?”

“Let’s do,” I replied, smiling as I stood up, placing my hand in his, “And then how about we finish our date in the master suite?”

“You read my mind, Mrs. Sinclair.”





Susan and Clive had gotten the babies all tucked in for the night. Tristan and I stood and listened to Clive detail out how many wet and pooey nappies the twins had produced; Susan was relaying all of the cute things that Reese had said or done.

“I swear, Gina, he is the spitting image of Tristan at that age, both in looks and personality.”

“And the great thing about him is that he uses the loo now,” Clive chimed in, “No nappies for him.”

“Oh Clive,” Susan chastised, “It does you good to be on nappy detail with the grandbabies. God knows you didn’t change any with your own sons best as I can remember.”

“There she goes, getting all cheeky with me,” Clive said, laughing. “Come on Susie, let’s get home so that I can give you your nightly foot rub.”

I saw his eyes sparkling; I was betting he had more in mind than just her feet.

“Tristan, why haven’t we seen any videos of the twins such as you provided us with when Reese was newly born?” Clive asked.

“Dad, you and Mom are right down the road. You can see them every day if you want; those videos of Reese were when we lived in Atlanta and you didn’t see him much. Besides, Gina put the kibosh on my cinematography.”

I glared at Tristan who in turn was enjoying himself with his teasing. Clive and Susan were both looking at me now to explain why I would prevent Tristan or anyone from videotaping their precious grandchildren.

“Whoa, wait a minute, Tristan. I did not put the ‘kibosh’ per se, on your video recording the baby; I merely exercised my right as a mother for some censorship. You were getting a bit too risqué with your subject matter.”

Susan burst out laughing remembering the particular clip that I had discovered Tristan had posted on Facebook for all to see. I had been nursing Reese at about six weeks old. Tristan had been video recording it with his Blackberry. It was evident about thirty seconds into it that Reese was taking a major dump in his diaper while eating. I had no clue that Tristan was going to post it for everyone to see.

“Yes,” she said, still chuckling, “I get your point, Gina. I am sure Reese will be horrified when Tristan shows him that someday.”

They departed then, both snickering as they went out the door, holding hands. I hoped that Tristan and I got on as well as they did after forty-five years of marriage.

Tristan and I locked up and turned the lights out. We stopped to check on Reese. He was dozing peacefully in his new ‘big boy’ bed. His little teddy bear night light was plugged in; he had his arm circled around the big panda bear in his bed. We both leaned over and kissed his soft cheek.

The girls were in our room in their twin bassinets. We gazed down at them; their light colored hair was curly; they were both swaddled warmly, sleeping comfortably on their backs. Sarah was sucking her thumb gently; Hannah’s little face was changing expressions; she was smiling with her eyes closed.

“She’s dreaming,” I whispered to Tristan who was watching her now.

“Yes, mostly likely visions of titties are dancing in her head. We need to make use of this quiet time, baby.”

I stifled a giggle. It was true; breast feeding twins was a challenge. I was going to continue doing it though for another few weeks.