A/N: Happy New Year! Can you believe it's been a year since Caleb was "born"? This is the final chapter, and I'll post the epilogue this weekend, marking the year anniversary since TtLW was completed. I'll also post the first chapter of my next story, "Wherever the Dandelion Falls." It's not a sequel, but I think you guys will like it.
If you haven't already, check out my other other story "First Bite." It's a Brittana vampire/human love story, and is completely different from my domestic dramas. It's a True Blood crossover, but you don't have to watch True Blood to understand it. It's campy and ridiculous and so much fun to write. Definitely a palate cleanser.
Today is my 27th birthday. I started writing the TtLW/MaYaD series almost two years ago, and what a journey it's been! When I started writing TtLW because I was heartbroken and bored at work one day, I never in a million years thought it would lead here. Thank you all for sharing in this journey with me. Most of all, thank you to Muriel, who has been the best companion and guide towards becoming a better writer.
Setting our suitcases down and sealing the door to block out the cold, we looked around the cabin. It was cozy and decorated in beautiful contrast with the weather outside. Seashells and dolphins adorned everything, including the mantle of the fireplace in the living room and the ice-covered patio outside. I walked around, taking in the framed pictures of beach landscapes and petrified starfish as you turned up the thermostat, shivering.
"What you do think?" you asked, coming to stand behind me as I looked out at the silent white static of the snow falling outside.
"It's perfect," I murmured.
Even though the cabin was beautiful and peaceful, I felt stiff like the petrified starfish on the walls. You had said this was our second honeymoon, and we both knew what that meant. We were going to be intimate for the first time in months in this place, no matter how scared we felt. We came with no agenda except to reconnect. Work and family and children aside, we had to relearn how to find comfort in each other. It is difficult to find solace in something as fragile and tentative as we felt.
After a simple dinner of soup and bread, you took my hand and led me to the bedroom. I was tired from the drive, but I wasn't going to use that as an excuse to cover up my nervousness. I promised I would tell you when I was uncomfortable with something. I know you meant that you wanted me to tell you when I was uncomfortable with your interactions with other people, but I was trying to communicate everything better. So I spoke up. "I'm nervous."
You bit your lip and looked at me, giving a small nod of agreement.
"This is a lot of pressure," I continued.
Your nod grew bigger. After a moment you released your lip. "We don't have to do anything we're not ready for. How about…" you said, glancing around the room. "How about we just kiss?"
I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond. Was I supposed to be okay with not having sex? I didn't want anything to feel forced. But us not having sex had been one of our problems.
"Kissing is fun," I said.
You gave me a shy smile. "We can start with kissing and… when we both feel like doing more, then… it'll happen. No pressure."
I nodded, but I wasn't entirely sure I agreed. I felt a lot of pressure to reconnect with you. Part of me wanted to, and part of me was terrified to.
But we were both facing our fears. You were facing your grief and the fact that I'd almost left you. You were making yourself vulnerable when you already felt broken. If I didn't try to match your effort, I wouldn't be a very good wife.
So I changed into my pajamas and got into the strange bed. It was strange in every sense: strange softness, strange texture of sheets, strange pressure to be close to you.
But when you drew my lips to yours as we rested our heads on the pillow, it felt less strange. Your kisses are comforting. Nothing has changed about them. If anything, they grow more reliable and reassuring as we age.
For the first few minutes as we kissed, I had to force myself to think, all you have to do is kiss. Nothing more. All you have to do is kiss. But after a few minutes sinking into your lips and feeling your warmth soak into the sheets, I didn't have to make myself think that because I believed it. You didn't expect anything but kissing. And because I knew that, I didn't expect anything more either. When we release our expectations, we stop feeling incomplete.
Your kisses became deeper and our tongues grew bolder. After twenty years, nothing has changed about our kisses. When we were young, we were so ravenous for each other that we didn't take the time to kiss slowly like this, but your mouth is just as exciting and comforting as it has always been. That night, even though I was in a strange bed, I slept better than I had in months.
The next day was New Years Eve and after sleeping in until noon, taking long showers, and spending a few hours reading on the couch, we went ice-skating in a nearby town. Aside from taking Caleb and Ruby a few times, which consisted of holding Ruby with both hands and encouraging Caleb as he wobbled beside us, I hadn't been ice-skating in years. As I built up to a smooth, steady glide, I felt some tightness I hadn't realized I was carrying fall away. Shuffling up beside me, you took my hand and hummed, "I bet everyone here can tell you used to be a dancer."
I gave you a playful quirk of my eyebrow. "I'm still a dancer."
To prove my point, I took your hands and turned so I was skating backwards, pulling you with me. After we were steadily gliding for a few moments, I turned my skates and pulled you into a curve, letting go of one of your hands and twirling into a spin beside you.
You giggled as I turned out of my spin. "Point proven."
You let me lead you around the rink for dozens of laps. Your feet were less sure than mine, but you kept a brave smile. After our legs were sore from skating, I guided you off the ice and offered to bring you a cup of cocoa as you took off your skates. Rubbing your frozen nose, you asked if I wanted to go out to dinner instead. I nodded and after we'd changed out of our skates, you looked up restaurant ratings on your phone. You grinned as you tucked it away, saying you wanted to take me somewhere nice.
The restaurant you took me to was small and beautifully decorated with white Christmas lights and pine boughs. It was almost deserted. It wasn't tourist season, so they weren't staffed for a big dinner crowd. Each table held a candle and a glass bowl of tiny pinecones and chestnuts. They took our coats and sat us next to a big fireplace.
Looking at the menu, you asked me what kind of wine I wanted and then ordered a bottle. As we sipped and waited for our entrees, you asked about my job and what had happened with the principal. I gave you an inquisitive look before I remembered I had mentioned it before our big blowup before Christmas. I told you about what Dr. Collins had said and your face twisted between a look of sympathy for me and controlled anger at her condescension.
Thinking about my job made me think of Jamie. I grew sad, remembering how I'd failed her. You noticed the shift in my demeanor and tilted your head, asking what was wrong.
Even though it made me sadder, I told you what had happened. As I spoke, you looked at me with a combination of reverence and adoration I hadn't seen in a long time. When I stopped talking for a minute, overcome with regret at losing my last chance to help Jamie, you reached for my hand.
"You're an amazing teacher, Britt," you murmured. "I want you to tell me about your job more often."
"Okay," I said. "Do you want to see my slideshow about pubic lice?"
You laughed and took a sip of wine. "No," you said, setting down your glass. "But when you talk about your job, it's easy to remember why I fell in love with you. You have such a big heart."
I felt my ears get hot and looked down at the table. "I want to hear about your job too," I mumbled.
You pulled back a bit, but then leaned forward. "As much as I complain about it, I love my job."
"I know," I said. I paused for a moment. I wanted to be open with you. I've seen your passion for justice flare more often than ever since you took your job. "Aside from taking you away from me and the kids, your job is perfect for you."
You gave me a surprised smile. "Really?"
I nodded and took a sip of wine. "You are so much more passionate about it than you were at Denton's. You have this energy around you whenever you're thinking about it. It's contagious."
"I do?" you asked, smile spreading.
"Mm-hm," I hummed. "It's very sexy."
Your smile turned shy and you looked down at the table. "I'm glad you think my workaholism is sexy," you mumbled, sounding frustrated with yourself and pleased at the same time.
"It's not how much you work, it's how much you care," I said. "You've been passionate since the day I met you. That's why I fell in love with you."
Your smile spread even wider and you looked up at me through your lashes, bashful. It was odd to feel so shy together. It made me giddy in a way I hadn't felt in years.
I was about to tell you that I felt like we were seventeen again and had just started dating when our food came. You thanked the waitress and waited with your fork in hand for me to taste my food. When I gave an approving nod and hummed a yum, you smiled and took your first bite.
As we ate, you told me more about your work, how you'd managed to quash the Mission: America drama by threatening to sue them for libel. You told me you had several competitive candidates to fill Mallory's position. You were hesitant to say her name, but when I smiled to reassure you, you relaxed and told me you'd be sad to see her go. She had helped orient you to the job since she'd worked closely with the previous executive director. But nonprofits have a high turnover rate and that was just one more thing you were getting used to.
Halfway through our meal, your phone rang. Seeing it was my parents' number, you answered and smiled at the sound of our children calling to say goodnight. You talked for a minute and then made smooching noises through the phone before handing it to me to do the same. Caleb and Ruby told me they'd gone sledding and built a snowfamily in Gramma and Grampa's backyard before helping Gramma cook dinner and playing Pictionary. From their voices, I could tell they were everything a mother wants her children to be at the end of the day: fed, safe, happy, and tired. I told them that you had taken me ice-skating and to a fancy dinner before saying goodnight and giving them phone kisses.
After I hung up, I sighed and looked down at the dark screen of your phone. You reached for it before drawing your hand back.
"Sorry," you said, shaking your head. "You can look through it, if you want."
I looked up at you, seeing your willingness to sacrifice for our marriage. And although I was curious, I knew I wasn't going to find anything incriminating on your phone, or your computer, or any other device. I wasn't going to find anything because you are a loyal and trustworthy person.
I shook my head and handed the phone back to you. "I trust you," I said.
I knew I wouldn't be taking advantage of our new policy.
When we arrived at our cabin after dinner, you helped me out of my coat and hung it by the door. "Want to make a fire?" you asked, nodding toward the fireplace. I smiled and set to work, layering newspaper and kindling and logs like my dad taught me when I was little. It was taking a little while to catch, and when I finished, I didn't know where you'd gone. Maybe you were in the kitchen pouring a drink or in the bedroom changing into your pajamas. I sat on the couch and pulled a blanket around me. A minute later I was startled when you opened the patio door, letting in a draft of frigid air.
"Come outside," you said with a soft smile.
I wrinkled my nose. "It's like three degrees out there."
"I know," you said, your smile steady. "Please. It's just for a minute, and I'll warm you up afterwards."
Cautious but curious, I got off the couch, drawing the blanket around me. When I joined you outside, I saw you had set up dozens of tiny tea lights on the railing and around the perimeter of the patio, shimmering in the still night air.
"Look familiar?" you asked.
I smiled and nodded.
Ten years ago I surprised you by proposing on the back porch of my parents' house. It didn't go how I was expecting it to, but I wouldn't have it any other way now. After a slight miscommunication, you told me you couldn't bear to marry me until it was legal. Discouraged but determined, I pushed until you explained that you didn't want to get married until our wedding was equal to all other weddings.
We didn't have any idea what awaited us then. We had no idea it would be two years and countless appeals until the state government approved the marriage equality bill. We didn't know we would try for a year before Caleb came to us. We had no idea what treasures and hardships were in store. The memory of our blissful ignorance made me smile.
But standing in the freezing cold, breath coming out in shaky white puffs, you didn't smile. You shivered, since you'd already been out on the porch for a while lighting candles. I wanted to warm you, but we hadn't been as physically close as we used to be in our day-to-day lives yet. All my gestures were tentative and unsure. Everything about us seemed unstable, even though we were trying, like a child learning to ride a bike. People say you never forget how to ride, but it felt like we'd forgotten.
You beckoned me over to you and reached for my hands, yours already shaking with cold.
"It's almost midnight," you said, your voice quivering as you shivered.
I looked at the sky, seeing it was still covered with clouds. I don't know what I expected to find; it's not like people tell time by the moon like we can with the sun.
"I don't have anything to ask you this with," you began, squeezing my hands. "We already have rings and papers."
I looked back at you, wondering where you were going with this.
"But I want to ask you, Brittany Lopez-Pierce, if you'll start the New Year with me by renewing our vows."
I looked at you, waiting for you to tell me what you meant.
"When we made our vows eight years ago, we gave each other beautiful words of commitment and love and gratitude. But there was nothing about balancing our jobs and families and children. There were no practical agreements. So I want us to promise each other that we won't put our marriage aside when other things demand our attention, and to commit to telling each other when we need space or closeness or a break from parenting."
I was starting to shiver, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from the intensity of your gaze; you were so determined, so committed to fixing our marriage, it overwhelmed me. I've always known that when you decide to do something, it happens. Perhaps it took us awhile to decide to change, but now we've decided. And because you're the one trying with me, I am certain we'll succeed. I have faith in your passion.
"I want to start this year with you with a new focus. I'm going to put you first. The kids are going to grow up and move out and have adventures of their own, and when they do, I want to look at you and know that we've still got hundreds of adventures of our own, and that we didn't miss too many while they were living with us. And I want to know that I didn't ruin anything by forgetting to show you how much I love you."
Something was burning on my cheek and I realized my tears were freezing and numbing my skin. When you force yourself open and let yourself speak what you feel, I always cry. Seeing you bared has been the thing that makes me love you most. I melt into you and forget we have clothing and air and skin between us. And most of all, I forget the doubts I have. When you are open like this, I see a woman who is capable of loving with the trust and sincerity of a child.
Doubts will always be there. But if I get to see you like this, my beautiful, open, scared Santana, I will never let them win.
I gripped the edges of the blanket and opened it like a cape to encompass you and warm us as we embraced. We still shivered against each other, our quivering a combination of fear and cold and love.
I nodded against your shoulder.
"You'll renew your vows?"
I thought about the commitment I'd made to you at our wedding. We had promised fidelity and love forever. But you were right; there were no details about how to make sure we kept our vows.
"I'll add to the commitment I already made," I offered. "I don't want to change the old vows. I stand by them."
You squeezed me tighter. "And I stand by mine."
We stood there squeezing our bodies together to block out the cold and doubt and fear with our warmth. I was about to ask if we should go inside when I heard firecrackers in the distance and knew it was midnight.
I drew back and looked into your deep, sparkling eyes, telling you with my gaze that I had accepted your proposal. I held your gaze for a long moment, blocking out the crackles and horns and shouts in the distance, focusing on your eyes and lips and cheeks. When I felt you had seen how deeply I was promising, I leaned forward and pressed my shivering lips to yours, kissing the promise into the soft flesh of your mouth. I let my lips massage the promise into place, staining the softness of your flesh with it until I was certain it would never fade.
You smiled at me and we stood there until the wind picked up and we couldn't bear to stand out in the snow any longer. You shepherded me inside and had barely closed the door when you pressed up against me again under the blanket, reconnecting our lips with more freedom and passion than you had on the porch.
I drew the blanket around us tighter as we melted into each other, shooing away the shivers and doubts. Your body is still comforting to me, no matter how much we hurt each other. And we never vowed not to hurt each other; to take such vows would be irresponsible. Everyone hurts people, even when they don't mean to, and it's the people we love and trust the most that hurt us the deepest. If I didn't love you, nothing about the past few months would have been hard.
While we kissed, you drew my hands to your chest, holding them over your heart. My hands were still cold, and I felt your skin flare with goose bumps at my touch. You let out a shaky giggle and said, "Cold hands, warm heart." I kissed you again, not wanting to be away from your lips as I hummed an agreement. Despite the melting chill of my body, I felt warm inside. Warm enough to let down my guard and be with you in every way.
You walked me deeper into the living room of our cottage, towards the fire. When we got there, you took the blanket from my shoulders and laid it on the ground, not bothering to smooth out the wrinkles and bumps and folds. You stood in the center of it and held your hand out to me, asking me to join you.
I knew what you were asking, and I didn't hesitate as I took your hand and pressed into you, telling you I was ready.
Your hands cupped my face as you continued kissing me, your lips more delicate and intentional than usual, as if you were cradling me with your mouth. You kissed my jaw and slid your fingers through my hair as I tipped my head back, asking you to kiss the pulse in my neck. As your lips grazed and brushed and sucked on my tender spot, I felt myself dampen and instantly wanted to be naked with you. In my mind, I was already naked and rocking into you, under you, on top of you. I had already surrendered to showing you everything that had been buried, but not forgotten, in my heart.
As we undressed each other, I felt myself slipping down to the floor, sliding down your front, pulling you with me. We sank down, cushioned by the blanket, trying not to jostle each other as we settled on the ground. As we did, I surrendered: to you, to a new beginning, and to how hard our lives can be. But the difficulty is not for lack of love.
In some ways, making love to you has gotten easier over the years. But in many ways it's gotten harder. We've hurt each other so much and we've grown accustomed to the distance that hurt created, however temporary. I didn't want to be distant anymore. I wanted to be as close to you as I could.
I pressed you back far enough that you straightened out your legs under me before crossing them. I settled into your lap, wrapping my legs around your waist, clinging to you as I felt my heart race and the heat pooling between my spread legs. We continued our sensual, confident kisses as our hands roamed each other's backs and breasts and behinds.
In the months we'd drifted apart, I'd missed your touch so much. But not just your touch; I missed knowing you could feel me in every inch of your skin. Even though we were moving slowly and trying to keep our breathing steady, my body was aching and pulsing against yours.
Your mouth hovered next to my ear, giving it a few feathery kisses before you nudged your nose into my hair, inhaling deeply.
"I love you, Britt," you whispered, barely audible over the crackling of the fire.
My hands slid up your back, fingers pressing into the warm, tender flesh. "I love you, too."
You brought your lips to my ear, licking and tugging gently as you curved your back to fit your arm between us. You know the feeling and the sound of your mouth drive me crazy. You nipped one last time before leaning back and looking me deep in the eyes as you slid your fingers into my center.
Shaking, I exhaled and squeezed my legs tighter around your waist, pressing your fingers deeper. Your fingers are as familiar as my own, but when I let you inside me in every way, it still feels new and tender.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my head tilt back. It felt good. We were coming alive together again after months of distance. Relief and pleasure flooded through me, emanating from your hands and coursing through my muscles. But as I tipped my head back further, rutting against you, I realized I didn't feel as good as when I was looking at you. I sat up straighter, opening my eyes again. You smiled in relief and your free hand pressed against my side, helping me move with you.
I drew my hands to your breasts and watched as your face slackened with pleasure, sinking deeper into our lovemaking. Your eyes grew hazy, locked with mine.
Your breasts were warm against my fingers, smooth and just the right size for the palm of my hand, making it easy to knead and caress them. You gasped as I pinched your left nipple. I pressed down against your fingers harder, wanting you to know just how good I felt. There was no hint of desperation or sadness or fear. Tonight was the most peaceful sex I could remember having in a long, long time. We rocked together, always connected through our gaze or lips or breath.
When you had drawn me to the precipice and I was shaking with anticipation, you kissed me as you curled your fingers up and pressed down onto my clit with your thumb. I clenched and then arched against you, crying out into our kiss. My legs gripped your waist and you smiled into me as you felt me coming on your hand. You tried to keep moving inside me, but I was pressed too tightly against you. I never wanted to let go.
As I came down, I broke our kiss and slumped against you, my sweat blending into your skin. A smile broke across my face and I groaned with pleasure, resting my head on your shoulder. I could hear you breathe out a smile as you swept your free hand over my back, holding me close and soothing me.
When I could muster enough energy, I pulled back, letting you see my sated grin. You smiled back and kissed my mouth with sloppy, passionate lips.
"I love you, Britt," you mumbled between kisses. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," I sighed as you trailed kisses down my damp neck and into my hair.
I breathed for a moment before I pressed my torso into you just enough to get you to lean back. You extracted your hand from between us and lay down, hair spread against the blanket and arms open, presenting your beautiful breasts to me, skin glowing in the firelight.
Our best times have always been this open and tender.
I shifted over you, letting you lie flat as I entwined my legs with yours, now straightened behind me. I pressed my lips to your cheek and heard you hum. I moved my mouth lower, giving your neck a succulent kiss. You sighed as I moved my lips past your collarbone. Each kiss whispered I love you into your skin as you curled your back and I trailed my kisses to the swell of your breast. When I felt the stiff bud of your nipple brush my chin, I dipped my head to take it between my lips, tilting my head to watch your face as I slid my tongue across it. You brought your hand to your other breast, kneading it as you gasped and shifted your legs under me. I coaxed your hand away from your breast and began tracing circles with my finger around the nipple as I slid my tongue around the one in my mouth. Your squirming morphed into heaving sighs as I increased my suction. Finally you convulsed and pushed my shoulder back, overwhelmed by the pressure.
"Britt," you gasped.
"Mm?" I hummed, sucking your other nipple until you wriggled away from the pressure.
"Please touch me," you panted. "Please."
You were gazing up at me, imploring. Licking your nipple again, I slid my hand between our bodies. I wanted to feel you clutch and spin and moan against me. You parted your legs, giving my hand space and permission. I tried not to tremble as the tips of my fingers brushed down your stomach to meet the wetness between your legs.
You cried out as I slid my fingers through your heat. Your face transformed at my touch; your mouth fell open, your eyes became hooded. You parted your legs wider, urging me to continue.
I stroked you gently, watching as your brow knit and your lips pursed, your gaze pleading as you rocked into my hand. You closed your eyes for a moment, wincing with anticipation, but opened them and stared deep into my eyes again, not wanting to break our bond.
My fingers drew you higher as I studied your face. You rubbed yourself along my hand until I felt you tensing in frustration. I spread your legs wider and let my thumb draw feather-light circles on your most sensitive spot. Your mouth fell open as a moan flew out. I pressed harder and your body twisted with pleasure, straining and arching as you released, letting my fingers pull you through. Mid-peak, you lifted your hand to draw my face down to yours, reuniting our lips while you rode the final waves on my fingers.
When you came down, I removed my hand, resting it just below you navel as you beamed up at me, sated and sleepy and damp. We kissed for a while longer before I lay my head against your chest and you let out a deep, contented sigh. I tried to even our breathing again as I reached for your hand, clutching it against the blanket. Our reunion was complete.
You smiled and shifted beneath me so you could look into my eyes as you ran your fingertip over my cheek. Although we were tired, we stayed awake for a long time gazing at each other, the air between us warm and damp. I rested my head on my arm, studying your face as if it were new, though it still held all the tenderness of the familiar. Your eyes were warm and shiny and soft, smiling though your lips were tired and parted.
When we had cooled, I pulled the blanket around us as you gave a contented hum. I draped an arm over your waist and pulled you closer. Closing my eyes, I took your hand in mine and squeezed.
There is something deep and rich and alive in you that I will never cease to thirst for. Something earthen and good and wild that grounds me and excites me and seeps into my very bones. When you leave a room, part of it lingers, like the smell of a spice or the echo of a song.
"How do we keep this weekend with us when we go back to our lives?" you wondered aloud. Even in our satisfied stupor, you were scared that we'd lose everything we'd regained in the past three days and go back to leading parallel lives.
I could have offered up dozens of suggestions about ritual and communication and priorities, but we had done so much of that already. So instead, I nestle closer against you and said, "We have faith."
You hummed an agreement. If nothing else, we have faith in our love.
And with that, we fell asleep in each other's arms.
I think there's a reason most fairy tales end with happily ever after. It's because the after part isn't as exciting as the falling in love. Sometimes it's hard, painful, or boring. But I wouldn't trade my life with you for any other.
Now I realize that there is no ending. The pendulum will continue to swing, and I will never grasp the center. Our lives are spent in pursuit of a balance we never achieve, and I will always feel some sense of incompletion. But there is no one I want to share that incompletion with but you. You are my heart, my tether, my wife. I love you more than I want to wander. That is what makes you my home.
I don't know what the rest of our lives will bring. Challenges, surely. Happiness, we hope. But I know one thing is certain: one day we'll be lying in our graves, side by side, just me and you. From our bodies, flowers will grow, and we are in them. To me, that is eternity.
