Disclaimer: Most of the characters contained within were not products of my own creation.
Author's Notes: I appreciate everyone who's keeping up with my little set of stories. Thank you, thank you. Enjoy this next part.
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
Twin champagne glasses clinked together with a perfect, crystal chime.
"Happy anniversary," Grissom said when his glass met Sara's. "Here's to two years."
"Two years," she repeated before taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. "Mmm…the good stuff."
"You deserve the best." He watched his wife for a long moment. "When was the last time we shared a drink?"
Sara leaned back into the comfortable nook of her husband's arm and sighed. "Eighteen months, give or take?" She touched her glass to his for a second time. "Here's to having my body to myself again. No pregnancy and no breast-feeding."
"And no more double D's," he mumbled.
"How about I strap two ten pound weights over your shoulders and let you walk around with them 24/7 for a year and a half? Then we'll see if you miss them when they're gone."
Grissom smiled at her snappy response. "Forgive me, honey. I'm merely a man."
"Hmm. Forgiveness will cost you," she hedged.
"Whatever the price, I'll pay."
"Price to be determined at a later time. Right now, I'm going to enjoy my very expensive, long-awaited glass of champagne."
The fire laid out in the living room hearth was more for atmosphere than to ward off any chill in the air, but combined with the nearly forgotten heat of alcohol in her stomach, it seemed to warm Sara down to her very toes. He cradled her against his body on the soft couch; his chest apparently made for an ideal pillow. She snuggled closer.
So, this was what home felt like.
Grissom's chin rested on the top of Sara's head as he watched the fire dance in front of them. It was hard to believe that just a few years ago, his life had been devoid of the simple comfort of Sara. He'd never lit a fire in his old townhouse because there had been no one to share it with. And he'd certainly never spent over a hundred dollars on a bottle of champagne because he didn't enjoy drinking alone. As though she could read his thoughts, Sara burrowed deeper into his side with a soft sigh. He pressed a kiss into her hair.
Home felt pretty damn good.
Except for the expected awkwardness of their first time together, their lovemaking had always been as smooth as silk. They slipped into the familiar embrace simultaneously, without hesitation or unease. There was no need to move from the couch; like they were for each other, it was just right.
"I love you," Sara breathed into her husband's ear.
He murmured the same with each kiss he planted on the supple flesh of her neck before he gave up on words entirely. He never could think when his wife was writhing beneath him; it was all he could do to keep going, without stopping to wonder what such a vibrant, beautiful woman could possibly see in him.
Clothes were shed and limbs entwined. Sara looked up into his eyes, giving him silent permission to go ahead and…
"Mama."
The word was soft and staticky through the baby monitor, but it was enough to bring both of them to a complete stop at a most inopportune moment.
"Did she…" Sara's hand covered her mouth. "Oh my god…she called for me!" Her eyes grew misty with happy tears. "Gil, did you hear that?"
Her sudden switch from lover to mother had him deflating like a popped balloon. Grissom tried to smile, but it came out strained. "I heard."
Sara pushed on his shoulders, urging him to sit up. He had no choice but to do so, sitting back as she hastily pulled on the garments he'd taken such pleasure in removing only minutes earlier. "Come on!"
She was halfway up the stairs before he could protest. With a long sigh, Grissom gave in and reached for his pants. Rosalind was awake and had chosen this particular moment to start talking. The father in him was overjoyed.
The sexually frustrated husband, on the other hand, was slow to catch up.
He found her waiting at the door to the nursery; they entered together. The scent of baby powder was pleasantly strong and he was reminded that it had been but an hour since he and Sara had put Rosalind down for the night. She'd shown every sign of being fast asleep when they'd escaped to the living room to start their anniversary celebration. But now, she was wide-awake and lying in her crib, playing with her feet.
"Hey baby-girl," Sara whispered. "What are you doing still awake?"
She grinned up at them, displaying the sliver of pearl that made up her first tooth. It didn't appear to be causing her any pain, as it had when she'd first started cutting it. When he thought about how many more teeth were to come, Grissom involuntarily winced. Nothing, not even some of the most heartbreaking cases ever to cross his desk, was harder to deal with than hearing his daughter in pain.
"Mama," Rosalind declared, proudly.
"She knows me!" Sara exclaimed. "I mean, I know she knows me, but she knows what to call me." She reached into the crib to brush Rosalind's baby-fine hair back from her forehead. "Such a smart girl…I'm Mama and that's Dada."
"Mama."
Sara pulled Grissom closer to the crib. "Maybe if you say it, she'll catch on."
"It's enough that she's talking," he said. "One word in one night is…"
"Dada," she interrupted, pointing to him. "Rosalind, say 'Dada'."
"Mama," the little girl replied, still pulling on her tiny toes.
Grissom shook his head. "It'll come, Sara. It's all right."
But when his wife got her mind set on something, it was just about impossible to dissuade her. "Dada, Rosalind," she continued gently, but firmly. "That's Dada."
"Mama." If this exchange was a mirror into the future, the two women in his life were destined to butt heads. It was equal parts amusing and frightening.
Sara offered him an apologetic smile. "I tried, sweetie."
"Honey, she's talking. Our baby is talking." He gripped her shoulders with tender care. "We have that much more to celebrate tonight."
She nodded. "All right. I won't spoil this. I just don't want you to feel left out."
"I don't," he assured her. "We agreed a long time ago that we wouldn't push her developmentally."
In the crib, Rosalind let her feet fall back to the flannel blanket beneath her. Her little mouth stretched open in a yawn. "Mama," she babbled as her eyelids drooped.
They waited until her chest began rising and falling in steady rhythm. Grissom put his finger to his lips and slowly guided Sara out of the nursery. Without making a sound, he closed the door behind them and expelled a breath.
"She's getting so big," Sara whispered, her eyes misting over again. There was something about giving birth…it turned usually stoic women into unpredictable water-works. "She can already stand up. Pretty soon she'll be walking and then she won't even be a baby anymore."
Before she could start crying, Grissom pulled his wife into his arms. "Let's take this downstairs, honey. I had to work to get that fire started, you know."
She nodded and rubbed away her impending tears with the back of her hand. "We should enjoy it…while it lasts."
He was tempted to carry her to the living room, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Somewhere between the nursery door and the landing, Sara the Mother turned back into Sara the Lover. With a twinkle in her eye, she dared him to follow her, and promptly raced down the stairs.
The fire was still going strong when he caught up with her. Now in frantic need of each other, they missed the couch and tumbled onto the carpeted floor. The sound of Sara's throaty laughter instantly aroused him and he quickly got them back to the place they'd been before their daughter's interruption.
Sara ran her hands through his salt and pepper curls when he paused on the verge of joining their bodies. "Don't stop," she urged.
Grissom frowned. "I thought I heard something."
"Gil Grissom." Her tone was one of warning. "Don't even joke about…"
"Dada!" Rosalind's voice filtered through the baby monitor.
He blinked once, twice, three times. A wide grin spread across his face, highlighting the laugh lines around his eyes. "She did it!" Grissom exclaimed. "She said it!"
Her husband was on his feet and pulling on his trousers before she could react. Sara rolled over onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow, taking a moment to collect herself before she headed upstairs. Again.
Rosalind had a sense of humor along with bad timing. It was not a good combination.
To Be Continued