Coda (Songs of Submission #9)(26)

“Goddess,” he whispered, even though in the chaos, he didn’t have to. No one was paying attention to us.

“Yes, Jonathan. Yes. I’ll marry you.”

“Let’s take our time.” He kissed my cheek, sucking frosting off.

Our time.

He was giving me permission to stop counting the months and years. Permission to let it happen as it would, to stop using worry as a paper-thin bulwark against the tides of fate. This was our time. However long it was, it belonged to us.

***

The staff had made short work of the mess. Clothing had been stripped off, some laundered, some left in bags, some rinsed and worn wet. Sheila had loaned me a pair of pale blue velour sweatpants and a white shirt with a neck so wide it fell off my shoulder. It was probably the best party I’d been to in my life.

“I love this on you,” Jonathan said, pressing his lips to my bare shoulder. We sat at the piano in the empty parlor as I played a soft jazzy thing.

“It doesn’t go with the ring.”

“I can’t wait to see how that looks on you naked.”

“It’s beautiful. I love it.” I did. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off it.

“I’m not trying to take away our marriage, goddess. You need to know that.”

“I know.”

“But it was hasty.”

I sighed. Yes, it had been hasty, and for all the wrong reasons, but I hadn’t thought about it that deeply. I hadn’t thought about anything deeply in the past six months, because it hurt. I had the feeling I wouldn’t be able to avoid it anymore.

“I got you a birthday present,” I said.

“What do you get the guy who has everything?” He brushed his lips on my shoulder and drew his fingertips along the back of my neck.

I smiled, and a ball of hitched breaths gathered in my throat. He thought he had everything. I had no idea I’d married such an optimist. “I was supposed to play this for you in front of everyone, but you stole my limelight with this big stinking rock.”

“They had a bigger one, but it was imperfect.”

“It’s not the size of the boat.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a buoyancy thing, see.” He motioned with the flat of his hand, swaying it. “Too small and it sinks.”

I laughed, and he laughed with me.

“Do you want to hear your song or not?”

“More than anything.”

I took a deep breath. “I want you to know, I wrote one before, and it was all about what we’ve been through in the past six months. And I hate it. It was… I don’t know. It was ugly, and it dwelled on things that weren’t important.”

“Can I hear it?”

“No.” I hit the first notes definitively and found my opening tempo. “It’s short.”

“Sing it twice.”

“You ready, Drazen?”

“I’m ready, Drazen.”

I sang it quietly for an audience of one. I wasn’t confident enough that it would survive me belting it out. Not until I did a few hundred rewrites.

How fragile it is

And how real it all feels

I can touch it, taste it

Hold it like a baby forever

But that’s not the deal

I am your ever

You are my after

I am your altar

You are my prayer

Where do I end

And you begin

Because I’m untied sometimes

And we’re a dandelion seed in the wind

I’m a seed or a flower.

Or I’m a breath or a wish

I am your heart

You are my beat

And I am your voice

And you are my song

“Happy birthday,” I said, letting my hands slip off the keys. “Many more. Many, many more.”

He kissed me, then I kissed him. His skin smelled like cake, and his tongue tasted of salt water. We wrapped our arms around each other, connected at the mouth, as if we were passing a common soul between us.

chapter 15.

JONATHAN

She was most perfect in nudity. I left her standing there, hands at her sides, in front of my chair so I wouldn’t have to move to watch her change. I put my elbows on my knees and folded my hands together, leaning forward. She was an arm’s length away, but I didn’t reach for her.

“Look straight ahead, Monica.”

I knew what it did to her when I kept her in stasis. I’d known the first night when I’d sent her upstairs naked, and I knew now, after my birthday party, with the canary diamond heavy on her finger, that her body was changing before my eyes. In trying to stand still, she was acutely aware of my gaze on her. If she stood still and I kept my concentration, she’d be soaking wet and very close before I even touched her.

Her nipples hardened in the cool night air. The triangle between her legs was a promise of compliance and unyielding pleasure. The ocean outside the open balcony door would be the background noise to the melody of her cries.

Slowly, I reached my hand forward and touched her belly. It quivered like the undulating ocean behind me. I drew the finger down between her legs and stroked inside her thigh. Her body reacted involuntarily, and I took my hand back.

“I’m not going to f*ck you,” I said. “You’re already bruised everywhere I want to put my dick.” I kissed her navel then pulled away.