He’s the one who usually surprises me with gifts, so the fact that I have one for him grabs his attention. He looks at me with anticipation and pulls the blanket away from me, pushing me out of the chair. I run inside and then return with his package. It’s wrapped in Christmas paper, even though it’s not even close to Christmas.
“It’s all I could find,” I say. “I didn’t have time to wrap it before I left, so I had to wrap it with what was in the closet here.”
He begins to open it, but before he even has the wrapping paper off, I blurt out, “It’s a blanket. I made it.”
He laughs. “You are so terrible at surprises.” He pulls away the tissue paper and reveals the blanket I made out of ripped pieces of our clothing. “Are these . . .” He lifts up one of his ripped work shirts and laughs.
We sometimes have issues with keeping our clothing intact when we’re pulling them off each other. I think I’ve ripped a half dozen of Graham’s shirts, at least. Graham has ripped several of mine. Sometimes I do it because I love the dramatics of the buttons popping off. I don’t remember when it started, but it’s become a game to us. A pricey game. Which is why I decided to put some of the discarded clothing to good use.
“This is the best gift anyone has ever given me.” He throws the blanket over his shoulder and then picks me up. He carries me inside and lays me on the bed. He rips my nightgown off of me and then he rips his own shirt for show. The whole scene has me laughing until he climbs on top of me and smothers my laugh with his tongue.
Graham lifts my knee and starts to push himself inside me, but I press against his chest. “We need a condom,” I whisper breathlessly.
I was on antibiotics last week for a cold I was trying to get over so I haven’t been taking my pill. We’ve had to use condoms all week as a preventative measure.
Graham rolls off me and walks to his duffel bag. He grabs a condom, but he doesn’t immediately come back to the bed. He just stares at it. Then he tosses it back onto the bag.
“What are you doing?”
With a heavy amount of assuredness, he says, “I don’t want to use one tonight.”
I don’t respond. He doesn’t want to use a condom? Am I reading his intent wrong?
Graham walks back to the bed and lowers himself on top of me again. He kisses me, then pulls back. “I think about it sometimes. About you getting pregnant.”
“You do?” I was not expecting that. I hesitate a moment before saying, “Just because you think about it doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.”
“But I am. When I think about it, I get excited.” He rolls onto his side and puts his hand on my stomach. “I don’t think you should get back on the pill.”
I grip the top of his hand, shocked at how much I want to kiss him and laugh and take him inside me. But as sure as I am about having children, I don’t want to make that choice unless he’s just as certain as I am. “Are you positive?”
The thought of us becoming parents fills me with an overwhelming amount of love for him. So much, I feel a tear fall down my cheek.
Graham sees the tear and he smiles as he brushes it away with his thumb. “I love that you love me so much, it sometimes makes you cry. And I love that the idea of us having a baby makes you cry. I love how full of love you are, Quinn.”
He kisses me. I don’t think I tell him enough what a great kisser he is. He’s the best I’ve ever had. I don’t know what makes his kisses different from the men I’ve kissed in the past, but it’s so much better. Sometimes I’m scared he’ll get tired of kissing me someday because of how much I kiss him. I just can’t be near him without tasting him. “You’re a really good kisser,” I whisper.
Graham laughs. “Only because it’s you I’m kissing.”
We kiss even more than we usually do when we make love. And I know we’ve made love a hundred times before tonight. Maybe even a thousand times. But this time feels different. It’s the first time we don’t have some kind of barrier preventing us from creating a new life together. It’s like we’re making love with a purpose.
Graham finishes inside of me and it’s the most incredible feeling, knowing that our love for each other might be creating something even bigger than our love for each other. I don’t know how that can even be possible. How can I possibly love anyone as much or even more than I love Graham?
It’s been such a perfect day.
I’ve experienced a lot of perfect moments, but entire perfect days are hard to come by. You need the perfect weather, the perfect company, the perfect food, the perfect itinerary, the perfect mood.