A/N: I know this is going to shock you, but I'm going to thank my betas! Thank you skzb, Cartersdaughter, and Catsluver! (Add a million exclamation points behind this because fan fiction won't let me. It erases all the extras.)
PART 3
LESSONS IN JOY
Chapter 29
They were halfway through the flight back to Kentucky, and Sam was finally able to release some of the tension in his body. Traveling with two five-and-a-half-month-old babies wasn't easy, even with assistance from the airport staff to help TJ and Sam carry everything and to help accommodate Sam's disability. Then the twins had been cranky on the flight, probably because the pressurized cabin did weird things to their little ears, even though they'd both had bottles to nurse during take-off.
A few minutes ago, Sami Joy had finally fallen asleep in the crook of Sam's arm, and it looked like Robby, who was snuggled on TJ's shoulder, was about to do the same. Sam exhaled a long breath, letting his head fall back against the headrest of the airplane seat.
After all the fallout in August from the kidnapping and TJ witnessing Sam's freaky demon power, life had returned to a semblance of normal—well, normal for the Winchesters. TJ joked that things were going in reverse. She was starting out married, then falling in love with her husband, then getting to know him.
It was now October, and TJ and Sam had taken the twins to San Diego for Gretchen and Ralph's wedding. They'd stayed for a full week, visiting with Dean and Heather and letting TJ see what her life had been like in California. The rocky start she'd gotten off to with Dean while Sam was in the hospital hadn't lasted. It hadn't taken Dean long to soften toward TJ once he saw she was for real and there was no doubt she loved Sam. Dean and TJ had fallen back into an easy, bantering relationship much like when they'd worked together at Shorty's.
While TJ, Sam, and the babies were in California, Fern and Vern were having the hardwood floors refinished in the farmhouse so the twins, who would be crawling soon, would have a floor that was splinter-free and smooth for their baby-soft hands and knees.
For TJ, seeing Heather, Gretchen, Ralph, and other old friends from college hadn't triggered any memories, but she was still TJ. She made friends easily, and she and Gretchen hit it off just like they had when they'd met TJ's freshman year in the dorms. TJ was a bridesmaid in Gretchen's wedding, even though TJ had only known Gretchen a week.
Sam was secretly glad TJ didn't have any memories of Ralph.
The only damper on the trip was that TJ refused to visit the SDSU campus or meet with Dr. Rostom, her old mentor and professor. Sam had pointed out that she never knew when something might trigger a memory. TJ had hedged and said they didn't have enough time, that she would rather take the twins to the San Diego Zoo. Dean and Heather (who'd called a truce and weren't fighting about hunting at the time) had gone with them.
The zoo was an experience—an exhausting but fun day of juggling two babies who had definite likes and dislikes and distinct personalities of their own. It was four adults against Robby and Sami Joy with all their baby paraphernalia, but the adults were definitely the ones the worse for wear at the end of the day. At least the zoo was accessible for wheelchair users and was fairly easy for Sam to get around.
TJ's resistance to anything related to her schooling was troubling. Every time Sam brought it up, she changed the subject or distracted him in other ways she knew he couldn't resist—namely, kissing him in that place just under his earlobe that always made him forget whatever he'd been doing or thinking about the second before.
College was a painful subject for her, and as much as Sam wanted TJ to pursue her dream, he didn't push her on it. She was seeing a counselor, both for the eating disorder and dealing with the amnesia, and Sam hoped eventually she would come around and give school another try. Fern and Vern were a different story, wanting to, as Vern put it, "light a fire under her ass," but Sam talked them into giving her time, just like he had when she'd been so resistant to him and the twins.
TJ was resilient and smart, and Sam was proud of how far she'd come in just the few months since she woke from the coma. She'd bonded with the twins and was an excellent mother. It hadn't taken her long to learn how to take care of them once she set her mind to it, and she handled them like a pro.
Last night, since it was TJ, Sam, and the twins' last evening in San Diego, they'd all gone with Dean and Heather to eat dinner at Shorty's for old times' sake. Irony of all ironies, Chanel (as in Coco), the girl who'd hit on Sam the first night he ever really talked to TJ, was their waitress.
Sam, Dean, and Heather all immediately tensed as Chanel approached the table. She hadn't changed much. She still had long dark hair, a petite body, and a haughty bearing.
TJ was fussing over Sami Joy, who was in a highchair making a huge mess, blowing raspberries of baby food at her mother. Orange clumps of baby food that vaguely resembled carrots were all over Sami Joy's face and TJ, and TJ was trying to get them both cleaned up. Between Sami Joy and Robby, TJ and Sam had already gone through an entire roll of the brown paper towels provided at the table. Needless to say, TJ paid no attention to Chanel.
Sam wondered why Chanel was working there. She'd seemed so snobby when he'd met her two years ago, like Shorty's would be beneath her. It didn't seem like the kind of place where she would choose to get a job. Then again, karma could be a bitch.
Chanel surveyed the table, her clear-blue eyes resting flirtatiously for a second on Sam. If she recognized him, she gave no indication. When she noticed his wheelchair, however, her gaze cooled instantly and she glanced away. Sam would have rolled his eyes if she'd been worth the effort.
She looked next at Dean and Heather. "Well, well, you two. It's been awhile."
Dean and Heather's faint smiles were cautious and wary. "Hey, Chanel. How's it going?" said Dean.
"Hi, Chanel," echoed Heather. Neither of their greetings held any real warmth.
Chanel didn't bother to answer them and eyed TJ with disdain. "Well, and if it's not Nelly Nelek." The way she said TJ's name dripped with sarcasm.
TJ was wiping the last of a spray of carrots from the front of the orange top she was wearing and didn't seem to hear Chanel. She added the paper towel in her hand to the pile in the center of the table in defeat, then gave a shrug and an oh-well smile to Sam. "At least my shirt is sort of carrot-colored, so it all blends in."
"Right," he said, smiling back.
"I said hello, Nelly." Chanel spoke as if TJ should drop everything and pay homage.
TJ turned, finally noticing her. She looked Chanel up and down and then arched a brow. "Excuse me?" TJ said in a cool drawl only Southerners—or in her case, Kentuckians—could manage; an aloofness that cut its victim with the very nature of its politeness. "Do we know each other?"
That wasn't like TJ. If she met someone who obviously knew her that she didn't remember, she usually gave them a short explanation of her memory loss and apologized for not recognizing them.
Chanel huffed snottily. "Of course you know me. Like you could forget me, Chanel Lancaster. We went to school together. We lived on the same floor in the dorms freshman year."
TJ studied Chanel with a blank expression that was genuine. "No. I'm sorry. Doesn't ring a bell."
The look of disbelief on Chanel's face was priceless. She stared at TJ, seemingly at a loss for words, and when she finally took everyone's orders, she was discombobulated and a little chastened. As she was about to walk away, TJ said, "Oh, excuse me? Chanel, right?"
Chanel huffed and rolled her eyes.
TJ gathered the pile of wadded-up, baby-food-soaked paper towels. "Would you mind throwing these away for us?"
Chanel wrinkled her nose, clearly thinking such action was beneath her, and gave TJ a dirty look.
TJ gave her an overly sweet smile. "Thanks so much."
Chanel grudgingly took the soiled pile TJ handed to her. After she was gone, everyone exchanged looks.
"Have mercy," said TJ, rattling a set of colorful plastic keys in front of Sami Joy. "What was her problem?"
Dean raised his brows and Heather was grinning. Sam smiled. "Uh, you remember the Grapes of Wrath story I told you?"
"Yeah?" replied TJ, a little distracted. Sami Joy was putting one of the keys in her mouth.
"That was the girl. You 'spilled' wine in her face."
TJ paused and looked at Sam. "Oh." Then a slow, impish grin spread across her features.
Now, sitting on the flight to Kentucky, Sam's mouth twitched with humor at the memory. He looked over at TJ, who sat in the seat next to him. She was nuzzling her cheek against Robby, who was finally sound asleep. Maybe it was a good thing TJ had forgotten some of the more painful memories of her life—like the fact Chanel had been such a bitch to her during their college years.
"So, that girl Chanel that was our waitress last night," said TJ, as if reading his mind, "she seemed like a major you-know-what."
"She was. She said a lot of crappy things to you when you were in school with her. I think she was one of the reasons your eating disorder escalated when you were a freshman."
TJ's expression clouded. "Oh." She absently kissed Robby's cheek and grew pensive. "I think I'm glad I don't remember her."
Sam nodded and rolled his shoulders a bit. He wanted to ask TJ how the psychology sessions were going with the eating disorder counselor, but she was always reticent to talk about it.
She'd reluctantly agreed to go after the dust had settled with the whole Liv thing. She went to Lexington once a week to meet with a therapist. Her eating had improved, she'd gained some weight, and she was starting to look more like herself, so Sam guessed the sessions were going well enough.
TJ peered at him from the corner of her eye. "It's going well. The therapy."
There she went again, discerning his thoughts. Sam gave her a small smile. "You a mind reader?"
"I'm sure stranger things have happened," she returned wryly.
"Yeah. Probably have."
She smirked at his understatement and then sobered. "You were right—you and my parents." She was speaking quietly where only Sam could hear. "I was on the verge of something really bad. I probably would have ended up with the eating disorder again. I mean, I guess I have the blueprint in me for it now, but, like y'all said, maybe I've caught it in time and nipped it in the bud."
He was proud of her for admitting that. "So, what about the amnesia? Have you been talking about that stuff, about the depression?"
She smiled, her long lashes and playful freckles captivating him. "You're the cure for my depression."
He felt a little emo at her words and glanced down at Sami Joy. She looked like a little blond angel sleeping in the crook of his arm, a few wispy curls framing her cherubic face.
"I mean," TJ mused, "I can think of worse things than waking up married to a smart, kind, funny, really hot guy."
Sam slanted her a dry look. "Uh, you weren't exactly thrilled, if I recall correctly."
"I can be kind of stubborn."
"You think?"
Her eyes held his for a long moment. "I was so awful to you," she said in her soft drawl. "Thanks for not givin' up on me."
"Never." He leaned in and kissed her lightly and tenderly on the lips. "Thanks for not taking the twins and running for the hills."
She brushed her lips over his. "Never. You're stuck with us."
He felt a surge of love and smiled. "I can think of worse things."
XXXXXXXX
A few days after they returned from San Diego, Sam shut down his laptop, pushed himself over to the couch, and transferred so that he was sitting next to TJ. It was late on a Saturday night, and the twins and TJ's parents were asleep. Sam had been working all day on a difficult and involved brief for a client that he needed to have ready by tomorrow afternoon so his client could use it to prepare for trial on Monday. The trip to San Diego had put Sam behind on his work, and he'd hardly come up for air. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was snuggle with TJ and veg.
She was watching their wedding video, volume turned low so she wouldn't distract him. She seemed mesmerized by the video, even though she'd watched it several times in the last few days since they'd gotten back. Gretchen's wedding had triggered an insatiable curiosity in TJ to learn about her own wedding.
Sam put his arm around TJ's shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "So, how many times have you watched this?"
She shrugged. "I stopped counting at twelve."
The video was at the beginning, where Vern was escorting TJ down the aisle.
"She's so pretty," TJ commented.
"Who? Your mom?"
"No. Other TJ."
Sam drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then cupped her chin with his finger, turning her face so she would look at him. "TJ, that pretty girl is you. There is no Other TJ."
She stared at him intently for a moment and then turned back to the video. TJ was dealing with this duality she felt—this alter ego—with her therapist, but she was far from reconciling that she and "Other TJ" were one and the same. "Your—I mean our," she said, correcting herself, "wedding was beautiful." Her voice grew quiet and thick with desperate emotion. "I want to remember so badly."
Sam combed his fingers gently through her auburn-chestnut hair, which was down around her shoulders. "I know," he soothed.
TJ idly laid her palm on his chest, and the warmth of her hand permeated his shirt, heating his skin underneath. She sighed. "I keep thinking that if I watch the video enough times, maybe it'll sink in. Maybe it'll trigger at least a few memories. But there's nothing."
He hugged her tightly to him, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He gave her another kiss, feeling her silky hair tickle his lips and inhaling the flower-and-mint smell of her. "We'll have another wedding," he said. "We'll renew our vows."
A second passed before she answered, "That's sweet, Sam. Maybe we will."
He could tell she was trying to show an interest in his suggestion, but there was a forlorn quality to her voice she couldn't hide. "You don't want another wedding, do you?" He wasn't really asking.
She made a quick swipe at her cheek, sniffed, then shook her head and buried it in his chest.
Sadness flowed into his heart, making his chest feel tight. Sam rested his chin on the crown of her head and wrapped his other arm around her, enveloping her in his body. He couldn't think of any words that would ease her pain and frustration, but he wanted her to know he was there for her.
After a couple more sniffs, TJ seemed more composed and turned her face away from his chest so she could speak. "I want to remember what it felt like to be your bride," she remarked wistfully. "I want to remember what it felt like when you kissed me."
He loosened his embrace and raised her chin again with his hand, looking into her tear-moistened eyes. "Now, that, I can help you with."
Her mouth curved into a half smile. "You can?"
"Uh-huh." He traced her jawline with his fingers and slowly lowered his head, pressing his lips to her mouth, savoring the sensation like he had the day they got married. He took his time, keeping the kiss chaste as he had on that day, showing her how he loved the smell of her, the softness of her lips, and the pure joy he felt at being with her. Moving up to her eyelids, he lightly kissed her long, thick lashes and then the freckles along the bridge of her nose and cheekbones.
"Wow," she said, her voice a bit breathy. "So that's what it was like?"
He smiled. "I might have embellished a little."
"Hmm," she intoned with appreciation. "I think I like the embellishing." She reciprocated his kiss, tender at first but then more demanding. He opened up to her. Her tongue probed his mouth, seeking a response which he gladly gave her. She lightly curled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and the wispy feel of her touch caused his blood pressure to skyrocket. Her smallest touch was enough to light an inferno inside him.
He wanted to take control, to undress her and consume her, but instead he broke away, almost shaking with sudden need. He ran a hand absently through his hair. "You're gonna kill me, Teej." He was only half joking.
They hadn't had sex yet because, for TJ, they'd only been "dating" for two months; but it was getting harder and harder for Sam to restrain himself. TJ's favorite pastime these days seemed to be kissing him, and his testosterone was on overdrive.
"I'm sorry," she said, even as she traced her finger over his collarbone, causing his overly sensitive nerves to tingle with sweet, tantalizing pleasure. She seemed to be genuinely unaware of what her touch was doing to him.
He grabbed her finger, stilling its motion, and smiled ruefully. "That's not helping any."
Her eyes widened as she clued in. "Oh!"
He lifted her finger to his lips and kissed it.
"I really am sorry, Sam. I know it's dumb. I don't know why I'm keeping you waiting for, you know...that." She glanced down, blushing. "I mean, we're married and we love each other. We have kids together, for God's sake. I don't know what's wrong with me."
He sighed, kicking himself for making her feel bad. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's okay, TJ. It's all new to you. I know that. It's okay if you need more time. I want you to be certain you're ready."
She searched his face for a moment, and then she gave him a soft peck on the lips. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I love you."
"I love you." After planting one more kiss on his mouth, TJ settled back down in her usual spot, head on his shoulder. They watched the rest of the video to the end, where she and Sam were showing off their wedding rings. She rose up and looked at him, one brow arched. "Still not gonna tell me?" She fingered the gold wedding band on his left hand meaningfully.
He smirked. "Uh-uh."
She rolled her eyes before nestling into him again, and he chuckled. She'd been asking relentlessly about how he'd proposed to her and where her wedding rings were, but no matter how persuasive she got, he wouldn't tell her. He had a plan, and he'd sworn Fern, Vern, and everyone else who might be in the know to secrecy.
Maybe there were some memories that weren't lost to TJ after all.
XXXXXXXX
TJ was ready. She was nervous, but she was ready. Today was her first wedding anniversary—November 27th—two days after Thanksgiving.
She smiled to herself, her heart doing its flippy thing just thinking about Sam. She was in love with her husband. She was head-over-heels, besotted-gaga-nuts over him. It was amazing how quickly she'd fallen for him. Then again, maybe it wasn't so amazing. Maybe her soul had remembered him all along, if not her brain. Her body dang sure remembered him. She craved him, despite her insecurities.
There was no doubt in her mind Sam loved her too. She was sure of it and knew there would be no repeat of her first time with Jeremy. But still, she was nervous.
She knew what to expect. She and Sam had talked about it—about sex. They'd experimented a little, but she always held back, never going further than hot, passionate kissing. She'd really only known him a little over three months, but that wasn't the reason she was reticent. It was more the fact that she was so unsure of herself.
He'd explained how his body worked, how his nerves that still had sensation had sort of rerouted themselves and how he could still get intense pleasure from sex, even if it wasn't in the traditional way. She was worried that she wouldn't be able to please him like she had before. She was sure Other TJ had been more confident, more mature—more daring. She envied Other TJ for her experience and felt like a naïve schoolgirl. She pretty much was a naïve schoolgirl.
She finished slicing the onions, added them to the pile of other vegetables she'd chopped, and poured a generous-sized puddle of oil in the wok so it could begin heating. She was in the kitchen, fixing her man some dinner.
Sam had gone to Lexington for the day to do research. It seemed he never really got a whole day off, not even on the weekends. He'd felt bad for leaving her on their anniversary, but she'd assured him she understood. He had a project he was working on that a client needed as soon as possible. It seemed his clients were always in a rush. They never said, "Don't worry, Sam. Take however long you need." It was always, "Sorry, Sam. Can you get it to us, like, yesterday?" She supposed it was good that he had so many clients, but she worried that he worked too hard.
Oblivious to what TJ was literally cooking up for him, Sam had promised her before he left this morning that he would take her out to dinner for their anniversary when he got back. She wondered if he would tell her tonight how he'd proposed. Maybe he'd finally give her wedding rings back to her.
To her frustration, no one would tell her how he'd proposed—not her parents, not Dean, not Heather, not Gretchen, not Ralph, not even Bobby. TJ had called Bobby and enjoyed talking with him. He'd been funny and down-to-earth, telling her lots of stories about Sam as a kid, but he wouldn't tell her how Sam proposed. She was more curious than ever to know what Sam was planning. It was taking him a long time to reveal it, whatever it was.
She smiled to herself. Sam wasn't the only one who could enlist the help of her parents for subterfuge. As soon as he'd pulled out of the driveway to head off to Lexington, her parents had packed up the twins (no small feat with all the stuff they had to take with them) and taken the babies to visit Aunt Joyce in Colleyville for the rest of the weekend. TJ and Sam would have the farmhouse to themselves until tomorrow afternoon.
Recently, TJ had talked with her mother. It had been a long discussion, a sort of revised version of the birds-and-the-bees talk. Fern had been reassuring and supportive, and TJ felt a little more confident afterward. As Fern had walked out the door this morning, she'd given TJ a knowing wink that caused TJ to blush.
Vern, on the other hand, acted like nothing out of the ordinary was going on and turned a blind eye to the whole affair. He was still in denial that his daughter was planning to have sex, even though it was with her husband and even though Vern was carrying his granddaughter in his arms—the evidence of TJ and Sam's earlier union—as he followed Fern, who was carrying Robby, out the door. TJ smiled, amused at the memory. Vern was still her dad, and she would always be his little girl.
TJ was making one of Sam's favorite dishes. It was her mother's recipe for a simple vegetable-and-tofu stir-fry that didn't tax TJ's very limited cooking skills. The vegetables, tofu, and sauce were ready to go, and the oil was almost hot enough in the wok. She would throw the vegetables and tofu in when Sam got there so it would be fresh. He'd called her a few minutes ago, and she knew he wasn't far away. The butterflies in her stomach started a crazy little dance in anticipation of his arrival.
She took the Minute Rice off the stove and drained the water, then cut the bag, emptied the rice into a large bowl, and fluffed it with a fork. It was brown rice because brown was way healthier than white. She was learning a lot from Sam about healthy eating and found she liked it. She was beginning to appreciate her mother's vegetable garden and all the work Fern and Sam had put into it.
It was early evening, and the sun had just gone down. The days were much shorter now that it was almost December. She tapped her fingers on the counter and watched out the window over the kitchen sink. She was kind of at a standstill with dinner until Sam got there. She'd already set the table for two and lit two elegant, white tapered candles that lent a touch of class to the battered farm table.
Suddenly, the driveway was illuminated by headlights, and she knew it was him. She felt giddy and had to refrain from running out and jumping his bones. He'd only been gone a day, but it seemed longer, and she'd missed him. She occupied herself with throwing the ingredients for the stir-fry into the wok and cleared her throat, trying to appear more mature and composed than she felt.
The contents of the wok smoked and steamed, and she was busy stirring it all as Sam opened the door and rolled in. Rocket, who'd been outside carousing, trotted in ahead of Sam and showed immediate interest in what TJ was cooking.
She eyed Rocket and shook her head. "Uh-uh. Sorry, Bubba. No stir-fry for dogs."
Rocket wagged his tail and reared up, putting his paws on her leg. It wasn't good doggy manners for him to do that, but she rewarded him with a quick scratch between the ears anyway, unable to resist his cute furry beard, pale eyes, and floppy ears. "You still can't have any stir-fry."
She stirred her vegetables, causing them to steam and sizzle, and slanted a look at Sam. His forehead was wrinkled in bemusement, and she almost laughed at his expression.
He was wearing jeans, his usual Converse sneakers, and a simple, dark-blue V-neck pullover with a white T-shirt peeking out of it at the collar. It was clothing appropriate for researching and working in a library all day. His posture was erect and confident as he sat in his chair, his legs even, his feet perfectly tucked onto the footplate. His strong, beautiful hands rested idly on his wheels. His rich brown hair—long and a tad shaggy—accentuated his masculine jawline and dark hazel eyes. His heavy, dark-brown jacket and leather briefcase bag containing his laptop and legal documents were on his lap.
She couldn't wait another minute to kiss him and abandoned her stir-fry for just a second to bend down and plant a welcoming kiss on his lips. She felt an instant charge of electricity just being close to him. "Hi."
The wrinkles in his forehead smoothed out and he smiled. "Hi."
"Happy anniversary."
"Happy anniversary." He paused and cocked his head, like he was listening. "Where is everybody?" he asked, looking up at her. "It's so quiet."
"My parents took the twins to stay with Aunt Joyce tonight." TJ's happiness at seeing Sam was tempered for a moment as she felt a sharp pang of grief. "She gets lonely, you know, since Uncle Joe Mack's gone now."
Sam nodded, his expression sympathetic. TJ knew he'd liked and respected Uncle Joe Mack, and Uncle Joe Mack had liked him, too.
After a moment, Sam said cautiously, "So...we have the house to ourselves?"
She bit her bottom lip coyly. "Uh-huh."
"Really?" A look of wonder spread across his features.
TJ laughed. She couldn't remember a time since she'd come to her senses and realized that the sun rose and set with Sam when they'd been truly alone for any real length of time—no babies to worry about, no parents to overhear what they said to each other or walk in at an inopportune moment. Sam and TJ had been sleeping in separate bedrooms during their "courtship," but she was about to change that tonight. She felt a thrill at the thought.
She was still leaning close to him, and he framed her face in his hands and kissed her. His hands were icy cold, but his lips were warm and inviting. She took one of his hands and kissed his palm. "Your fingers are like icicles."
He raised his brows indifferently, as if it were no big deal, but she knew it was hard for him to warm up and keep his body temperature regulated because of his paralysis. The cold Kentucky mountain autumn was harder on him than the milder temperatures of San Diego. She looked pointedly at his jacket. "For starters, it might help if you actually wore your jacket instead of carrying it on your lap."
He shrugged. "Too much hassle to put it on just to go from the car to the house."
She rolled her eyes. He grinned and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her closer to him. She braced her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance.
"You warm me up better than my jacket," he pointed out, the look in his mossy eyes sending a tingle down her spine.
She smiled and gave him a long kiss, her blood pressure surging as their tongues mingled. He made a noise of appreciation deep in his throat. When she pulled back, he said, "So, you're cooking?"
"Uh-huh," she answered without really thinking. Her eyes were locked with his. She was hypnotized by him.
"I would have taken you out," he reminded her.
"I know, but I wanted to do something special for you."
"You did?" He gave her a pleased smile, flashing his dimples. "What are you cooking?"
"Vegetable-tofu stir-fry."
"Hmm. Uh...I think your stir-fry might need stirring."
"Oh, shit!" She hurried back to the stove and gave the smoking vegetables another stir. They were supposed to be stirred constantly, but two seconds with Sam in the same room with her, and she'd forgotten all about them. Some of the veggies were a bit charred—okay, most of them were—but the dish would still be edible. Maybe.
"Sorry," she said, scrunching her nose. "I hope you don't mind Cajun-style Asian stir-fry."
"Cajun-style Asian?" He sounded wary but amused.
She tossed a rueful look at him over her shoulder. "You know. Kind of blackened."
He chuckled, and she loved the cozy sound of it.
In the end, the stir-fry wasn't edible. Sam had been a gentleman, pretending it tasted good and even eating a few bites before TJ took pity on him and whisked his plate away, throwing its contents in the trash. They'd wound up reheating the leftovers from Thanksgiving and putting the rest of the brown rice in the fridge.
Sam helped her clear the table. They put the dishes in the sink to be washed later, and TJ took his hand and gave it a tug. "Come on. I have a surprise for you."
"What is it?"
She tugged again. "Come see. You have to come into the living room."
"Okay. But I have a surprise for you first."
She arched a brow, intrigued. This time, he was the one that tugged on her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her—long, slow, and tender—and she forgot that anything or anyone else in the world existed but Sam.
"I love you, TJ."
"I love you, too, Sam." She buried her head in the curve of his neck, inhaling the spicy scent of him, and he wrapped his arms around her. They stayed that way for a moment, lost in each other.
Finally, he broke the spell. "Can you reach my jacket?"
He'd hung it over the back of a nearby chair at the table, and she reached for it, stretching until she was able to get a hold of it. His jacket smelled like him and cold weather, and she loved the scent of it. She would have buried her face in the canvas fabric and inhaled like a dog sniffing a tire if Sam hadn't been watching. Have mercy. How had she ever thought she was in love with Jeremy?
Sam took the jacket and rummaged through one of the pockets, his long arms encircling her as he did so. "Oh, here it is." He cleared his throat, and she turned her attention to his face. He was looking down at the gift with a faint frown, and TJ was surprised to realize that he was a little nervous. "So," he said, not meeting her eyes, "it's not diamonds or furs, but I read that the traditional gift for a first anniversary is paper." He shrugged with a hint of apology and handed what looked like a medium-sized notepad to her.
When she inspected it more closely, she saw that it wasn't a notepad but a small journal. The cover of it was silvery-looking leather, and in elegant black lettering, the title read "The TJ and Sam Chronicles." On the inside, little vignettes of their life together from the day they first met at Shorty's to the present day were handwritten in Sam's neat handwriting. She flipped through, scanning the pages and reading some of the entries, tracing the handwriting with her finger and imagining his long, fine fingers holding a pen and creating the script.
He'd included his memories of big things, like their first date, along with little things, like making smoothies together on a Friday night or taking Rocket for walks. There were answers to things she'd wondered about and things that were utterly shocking, like how he'd gotten Rocket and the story behind why Rocket could jump so freakishly high. Her eyes widened and she looked at Sam. "Rocket is part shapeshifter?"
Sam smiled tentatively. "Uh, sort of. That one may take you awhile to read."
"I can't believe I'm just now finding this out."
"Sorry. There's still kind of a lot of stuff you don't know. The Rocket thing just never came up in conversation."
She shook her head in mildly-amused disbelief. Of course Sam's dog wouldn't be just a normal dog. She'd sensed all along there was something different—something special—about Rocket.
"Sam," she said, closing the journal and waving it in amazement, "how long have you been working on this? When did you have time?"
Another modest shrug. "I don't know. I just started jotting down things that I remembered about our life together," he explained. "I've been doing it for a couple of months. I kept it all in a notebook and then organized it chronologically when I got ready to compile it all in the journal. I know it's not much, but—"
"Not much?" she echoed, rolling her eyes. "Lord 'a' mercy, are you serious?"
His mouth twitched. "So...does that mean you like it?"
She held his gaze, her heart brimming with love and appreciation. "Sam, this is the best possible gift you could have given me. It's romantic and thoughtful and—and helpful, and I've never felt more loved or cherished in my whole life. Well," she added, "that I remember."
He chuckled and kissed her. "I'm glad you like it."
She kissed him back. "I love it. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She held the journal in one hand, stood up from Sam's lap, and took his hand. "Now it's your turn," she said, and he followed her into the living room.
When they were seated on the sofa, she set the journal on the coffee table and kicked off the Ugg house shoes she was wearing. They were the most comfortable, luxurious things ever invented and were, she'd been told, last year's Christmas gift from Sam. She removed his sneakers for him, leaving on his black socks so his feet would stay warm. It made her feel kind of like a housewife from the '50s, like one of those ladies who always had slippers and dinner waiting for her hubby when he came home from work. Surprisingly, she liked the feeling, although she obviously still needed to work on the dinner part. "Okay," she said. "Close your eyes."
He did. She grabbed the DVD she'd wrapped in the comics section of last week's Sunday paper. She'd put the DVD in a shoebox to disguise it better and tied the outside of the package with a big, white, satin bow because she thought it made it look more anniversaryish. She loved using the comics as wrapping paper. It was something her mom had always done since TJ was a kid. They'd never used regular birthday wrapping paper or gift bags. Too boring.
Sitting next to Sam, she set the box in his lap and placed his hands on top of it. "Okay. Open your eyes."
He looked down, his forehead creasing slightly in that way that she loved. "What is it?"
She laughed. "I think the idea is that you're supposed to unwrap it to find out."
"You wrapped it in the comics," he commented, meeting her eyes.
"I know. You like it?"
The intense expression on his handsome face was like a direct line to something quivery and demanding in her abdomen. "Yes, I like it," he said. "You used to always do that. You wrapped the first gift you ever gave me—the first wrappable gift—in the comics. It was my Converse shoes."
"I gave you those?" She'd had no clue, although she'd always liked them. They'd always seemed a bit quirky for Sam, but now she knew why.
"Yes. You didn't like what you used to call my 'suburban-dad' shoes, but I wore them because I have to be careful. Certain shoes don't stay on well because of the spasticity I sometimes have in my feet, and some shoes can also cause a rub. The Converse don't do that. You researched it before you gave them to me."
"Well, that's ironic," she mused.
"What is?"
"Maybe I should get you some suburban-dad shoes again, since you're a dad now."
He smiled. "But I don't live in the 'burbs."
"True." She gave him a peck on the lips and then looked pointedly at the gift. "Are you gonna open it?"
He started to unwrap it, careful to untie the bow and then gingerly pulling the tape loose.
"Hurry, Sam," she urged impatiently. "You're worse than my mamaw." TJ's grandmother would always carefully unwrap gifts so she could reuse the wrapping paper later. Mamaw was a child of the Great Depression. Even though she was too young to live through it, her parents had. She used to press pieces of foil, re-straightening them so they could be used again, and she would wash disposable plastic cups. Her generation was "green" and good for the environment without ever trying to be.
"I might want to read them later," Sam said, referring to the comics.
"Oh, please. You really are like my mamaw."
"She must have been a smart lady." There was a teasing light in his eye.
TJ knew he was being deliberately slow just to drive her crazy. "Sam, just open it!"
He laughed, his deep dimples making her blood sing. When he finally got it open, he saw the shoebox and his eyes widened. "Seriously? Shoes?"
"Maybe," she said, being coy. "O-pen-it," she said pointedly.
When he finally got it open, he took the DVD out of the box, then looked at her, the corners of his mouth curving upward. "You got Wings of Desire?"
She suddenly felt insecure and prayed he would like it. Neither of them had a lot of money, and it had been a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of them that they wouldn't get each other expensive gifts. She'd gone for something with meaning instead, like he had, but the journal he'd made for her blew her gift out of the water. "I thought it was kind of appropriate, sort of coming full circle, you know?" she offered lamely. "First date, first anniversary?"
He turned the DVD over in his hands, studying it. Then he kissed her, lightly brushing his lips against hers. "Thank you," he purred in a deep, sincere voice. "It's perfect."
She smiled against his mouth, relieved and elated he liked it. "You're welcome."
He drew back, eyeing her dubiously. "But, are you actually gonna watch it with me?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you weren't exactly in to it the first time you saw it."
She shrugged. "Well, at least it's like I've never seen it. I wanna watch it. I want it to be like our date."
"Okay," he said, still sounding leery.
She took it from him and ripped the cellophane off of it, handed it back to him to tear off the industrial-strength, metallic, able-to-withstand-a-nuclear-blast tape that held it closed, and then popped it into the DVD player and turned on the TV.
She was curious to watch the movie, but thirty-five minutes in to it, she was starting to fall asleep. She never fell asleep during a movie, and she hated it when other people did. She widened her eyes, trying to make them stay open, and peered at Sam.
He seemed to be enthralled with the film, which was mostly subtitled. The dialogue was partly in French, partly in German, partly in English, and partly in other languages TJ couldn't identify. Sam didn't seem to mind the subtitles. The movie was also shot partly in black and white and partly in color. It didn't make any sense to TJ—something about angels observing humans in their everyday lives and sometimes comforting them, along with deeper implications for the city of Berlin. It was all way too artsy for TJ's more shallow, plebeian tastes. The film was more something Katrina would like.
TJ snuggled up to Sam and laid her head on his shoulder. He absently kissed the top of her head, but she could tell he was still totally in to the movie. She must have dozed off because Sam's gentle, deep voice woke her up. "Hey."
"Hay is for horses," she tossed out, her voice tinged with sleep.
He chuckled, causing his chest to vibrate under her cheek. "Are you falling asleep?"
"Uh-uh," she fibbed.
"Yes, you are. You never fall asleep during a movie."
She huffed. "I never had two alarm clocks named Sami Joy and Robby who woke me up at five-thirty a.m. every day, either."
"True," he agreed with indulgent humor. "We don't have to watch this. Would you rather do something else?"
"No. I wanna watch it." She could feel the oh-sure look he gave her. "I do," she insisted.
"Okay," he said, his tone doubtful. He didn't say anything else, and she assumed he went back to the movie, engrossed in it again.
She tried to pay attention, but her thoughts started to drift. She could feel his well-defined pectoral muscle under her cheek as she rested her head partly on his shoulder and partly on his chest. She imagined what it would feel like to have his smooth, golden skin and hard body beneath her fingertips and felt a surge of tingly warmth. She'd come close to touching him in more intimate places in the last few weeks, and she knew every inch of his earlobes, jawline, neck, and collarbone well; but she'd been shy with him, had never undressed him of her own accord when they were making out.
Ever the perfect gentleman, he'd never pushed her; but she knew by how tense his body got sometimes and by how harsh his breathing got that he was holding back, that he was straining himself to his limits.
She wondered when they'd last made love and knew it had to have been a very long time for him, almost a year. It was almost December now, and she knew from what she'd been told that she'd gone on bed rest for her pregnancy in December of last year. She didn't think she and Sam would've had much of a chance for hanky-panky while she'd been in the hospital.
She idly ran her index finger over the soft fabric of his pullover, tracing the sinew she knew was beneath the finely-knit, soft cotton. He drew in a breath and held it a moment before slowly letting it out.
She smiled and made her way over to his sternum, tracing the area between his chest muscles and then trailing a line down to his navel. She wondered where his ability to feel began and ended. He'd told her his injury affected everything below his navel, but where, precisely, was the line?
"TJ," he said, his voice husky, "you're making it very difficult to watch this movie."
"Sorry," she said, but she was still smiling and knew she didn't sound very contrite.
"Do you want me to turn it off?" He sounded cautiously hopeful.
She shrugged. "Only if you want to." Yes, yes, yes, was what she really meant.
He levered forward, grabbing the remote from the coffee table, and—thank goodness—there was no more Wings of Desire.
When he sank back against the couch again, she straddled his lap and slipped her fingertip along the inside of his T-shirt collar.
He swallowed thickly, his voice that sexy velvet she loved. "So, what do you want to do, then?" he asked.
"I don't know. Weed the vegetable garden?"
He laughed. "At eight o'clock at night in the dark—in the winter?"
"Hmm, so hard to please," she teased. She pretended to ponder. "We could can some tomatoes." She bent down and kissed his earlobe, drinking in the intoxicating, male scent of him. His pheromones must be the extra-strength, heavy-duty kind. They made her want him with a force that was all-powerful and overwhelming. How had she resisted him for even three months?
"You hate canning," he said with a hitch in his breath, "and it's not the season."
"Oh, yeah." She feigned disappointment. "I know," she said a little wickedly. "We could make a cherry pie. I just love the moist, hot, cherry filling."
He closed his eyes. "Jesus, TJ. Do you know what you're doing to me?"
Of course she knew. She licked a trail down to his collarbone and pulled at his shirt a little to expose more of his skin. "What am I doing to you, Sam?" she whispered in between circles of her tongue.
"I—I don't know if I can control myself this time, Teej."
She stopped what she was doing and gave him a sultry look. "I don't want you to control yourself, Sam."
He groaned and pulled the elastic ponytail holder out of her hair, then ran his fingers through the tresses he'd unleashed. The feel of those magnificent fingers of his on her scalp was divine. He tugged her to him and kissed her—hard, demanding, and searing—and she felt thoroughly and completely branded, like she'd been claimed. She was his.
She was breathless, her heart pounding. "We—we could milk Faye," she suggested.
He let out a short laugh, a mixture of surprise, desire, and humor, and his gaze traveled down to her breasts. He swallowed again.
She took his hand and rubbed his fingers over her breast. He got the hint and took her nipple between his thumb and index finger, kneading it through the fabric of her cream-colored, long-sleeved cotton top. The action caused an exquisite sensation to resonate through her entire body and then pool in her nether region. God Almighty. The man was a magician.
"You're..." she drew in a sharp breath, "...so good at the milking."
"You think so?" His eyes were penetrating and hot.
Now both his hands were kneading her breasts, slowly and sweetly torturing her. "Oh, my Lord. Oh, Sam." She closed her eyes, relishing what he was doing to her. She could feel something building within her, something she'd had an inkling of the time she'd been with Jeremy, but Jeremy had left her wanting.
She wanted to be fulfilled, to be sated, and she knew instinctively Sam was the only one who could do it. She grabbed hold of his wrists, stilling his movements so she could find her voice to speak. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I think we should go to bed."
"To sleep?" His eyes were hooded with desire, but the corners of his mouth were curved upward, causing shallow dimples. Obviously, he knew she didn't want to sleep.
"No," she said darkly. "Not to sleep."
He was suddenly serious, brow furrowing. "Are you sure, TJ?"
She kissed him, flicking her tongue in and out of his mouth, tasting him, and then gently nibbling at his bottom lip. "I'm sure."
She wanted him. It was a physical burn deep inside her. She had a new respect for his strength of will, for the restraint he'd shown not only in the past three months, but also when she'd first gotten out of the hospital. She had a pretty good idea now of how hard it must have been for him.
He cleared his throat. "You're, uh, sure the pill is working?"
He was talking about the birth control pills she'd recently started taking in anticipation that they would soon be re-consummating their marriage. No way were they taking a chance she would get pregnant again.
"What," she teased, "you don't think Sami Joy and Robby would like a little brother or sister?"
"That's so hilarious," he said with no humor whatsoever.
She grinned and stood up. He was holding her hands, gaze trained on her, and she admired the masculine planes of his face and the strong line of his jaw. He was a god. It was as simple as that. He was as beautiful as any Greek or pagan god. And he loved her. Despite everything, despite the way she'd treated him, despite the fact that he could have a girl a thousand times prettier than she was, he'd stuck by her. She would love him just for that alone until the day she died—even if there weren't a million other reasons to love him.
"Meet me in my bedroom," she said, as she slowly slid her hands from his. He made her feel sexy and bold. She walked (what she hoped was) seductively out of the room and prayed she didn't look like a dork. Once she was in the hallway and out of sight, she raced to the bathroom and quickly changed into the decadent, plum-colored slip negligee she'd ordered from Victoria's Secret. It was mostly satin with black, lacy trim that accentuated her breasts.
Her boobs weren't huge, but they were adequate and still perky, in spite of having been pregnant and giving birth to twins. She'd thought about wearing the pretty, blush-pink baby-doll negligee her mom had shown her, the one Other TJ had worn on her wedding night a year ago. But TJ felt inexperienced enough as it was, and that negligee was too girlish.
The plum slip she wore now made her feel more grownup and more worldly. It covered her stretch marks and all her scars, except for the faint one in her throat where the trach had been. She was a little shy about Sam seeing everything, but she guessed he'd seen most of it before anyway, and he still wanted her.
When she walked into her bedroom, she saw he'd transferred from his chair and was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed. She rarely made her bed these days. The twins seemed to take up every second of her time, and she was lucky to get in a shower and throw her hair in a ponytail, let alone make the bed.
The only light in the room was her bedside lamp, bathing Sam in a golden glow that accentuated his tawny skin and his dark, sensual eyes. His gaze was on her, traveling over every inch of her. It made her feel self-conscious and sexy at the same. By the expression on his face, he clearly liked what he saw.
"Hey," she said shyly.
He flashed her with dimples. "Hay is for horses."
She laughed softly and padded toward him, wishing she had on sexy high-heeled slippers like they wore in the movies instead of just her bare feet. When she reached him, he put his hands on her hips and looked up at her.
Mercy, how she loved him. Her heart was about to dive-bomb its way out of her chest. She wanted this man, her husband, but she suddenly felt awkward and didn't know where to begin. The playful boldness she'd felt minutes ago in the living room had deserted her. "So, um, what do we do now?" she blurted, then instantly felt heat creeping up her neck. Smooth, TJ.
His answer was a stunningly seductive smile full of promise, and she instantly went weak in the knees.
TBC
A/N: Sorry to leave you hangin', but I promise TJ and Sam will get to know each other very intimately in the next chapter. ;)