12 Days of Forever(39)

Xander places his lips against my neck, telling me that he’s done talking about his life. His arms tighten, holding me to him.

“Do you like this movie?” he asks, knowing full well that even if I do I’m going to give him my full attention.

“I’ve seen it before. What do you have in mind?”

His fingers find the edge of my cami, his sweatshirt that I wore here, long forgotten. My cami is lifted over my head and tossed to the ground.

“I’m thinking you and the bottle of champagne on the table.”

I turn and look at him. “Me, the table and the bottle?”

He nods as a serious look comes over his face. “I plan to lick the champagne off your body.”

I look at him questioningly, my eyebrow rise. He matches my expression. “Do you have an issue with that?”

He gently pushes us to the edge of the couch and stands us up. Xander takes my hand in his and leads us into the kitchen. Earlier, after dinner, he cleaned off the table. I didn’t think anything of it, but now I know it’s because he had this planned.

“How long have you thought about doing this?”

He shrugs. “I bought the champagne earlier because I thought we’d celebrate after getting back from the bar, but holding you in my arms and knowing that I have this fantasy to play out, I thought we should try it.”

I let go of his hand and cross my arms. “And what about me? Do I get to do shots off your abs?”

Xander smirks and lifts up his shirt, showing me his perfectly sculpted stomach. “I got the tequila right here, baby,” he points to the cabinet behind him.

I stand tall. “Bring it on.”

“Excuse me miss.” I startle awake, only to find the flight attendant hovering over me. “We’re about to land. I need you to put your chair in its upright position.”

I do as she says and rub the sleep away from my eyes. I don’t remember taking off, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. The dream, reliving last night and this morning, is something I definitely didn’t want to wake-up from. Being with Xander, experimenting with him the way we have, has shown me what sex can really mean when it’s between two people who care about each other. I know I can go to him with anything and hope he feels the same way about me.

What Xander and I have is special and can’t be replicated.



As soon as I step out of the taxi, my boot is submerged ankle deep in a puddle. I glance at the driver who is ignoring me by playing on his phone. It’s not like I expected him to get out and help me, but a little curiosity would be nice. After heaving myself out of the cab, I reach in and pull out my luggage and stuff a twenty through his plastic window security divider. My door isn’t even shut before he’s pulling away and into traffic with the sounds of horns honking. I wish the police would start pulling people over for violating the no honking ordinance. The day they do, I’m going to get a chair and start flashing people simply for the entertainment.

I look down at my soaked boot and shake my foot. “Welcome home,” I say to no one as I sigh and turn toward my building. I stare at the gloomy building, wishing the corporation that owns it would paint the outside, give it new life. But no, we’re stuck with this gray monstrosity that I call home. Climbing the three steps with my carry on dragging behind me, I stop at the doorman’s desk, the same doorman who is supposed to open our entrance door, but is too old to move about. He’s also supposed to be security, but the only thing he’s good for is a great laugh, hug and making sure our mail is ready for us when we walk in.

“Hello, Charles, how was your Christmas?”

“Oh, Miss Yvie, my Christmas was very good. It’s good to see you back home.”

I pause at the word home. You never realize how often you throw that word around and what it really means. When I was growing up, our tiny apartment was home until we moved into a slightly larger one, and so on. Even Harrison’s apartment on the beach felt like home. This is where I live and, up until this past week, I always thought of it as home, except now I know it’s not. Home means family, and I don’t have that here. I’m not saying I’m packing up and moving to Beaumont, but visiting more often or having my nephew and nieces here might help.

I’m not ready to leave New York. Right now, it feels like it’s all I know. It’s where my job is, and I love my job. I know I can dance elsewhere, but it’s not same as Broadway. I need the best of both worlds. I need my Beaumont family and my New York job to meld into one.