Picturing Perfect (30 page)

"Too much?" she asked, suddenly looking sheepish.

"No. Gorgeous," I insisted, taking her hand.

"It was time." She shrugged as she removed her coat and scarf. Jason placed her things in the closet, gave her a kiss on the cheek and echoed the compliments that I showered on her about her new look.

Mom joined us for pizza, smiling as she enjoyed each bite, as if she was tasting it for the first time. When I raised an eyebrow at her, she quickly wiped her mouth with a laugh.

"Sorry, it tastes different. My old meds…they kinda made everything dull. This is great, though."

I loved that she didn't hesitate discussing her issues in front of Jason. She'd accepted him as the man in my life. And, I suspected, had also accepted him as part of our tiny family.

"That's awesome, Mom." Wiping my mouth and taking a sip of my drink, I caught Jason's smile. It was genuine and warm. I loved his compassion and care for my mother. Even though I knew he'd like nothing more than to ask her to leave so he could take me down the hall to the bedroom.

After the meal, I fully expected Mom to leave. However, instead of grabbing her coat from the closet, she simply took a seat on the couch and thumbed through my photo album of Marty's first days. Scrunching my nose, I looked to Jason, who was watching her almost painfully, as she made herself comfortable on the green sofa. Briefly, he joined me in the kitchen, kissing me behind my ear.

"I want you…now." Another shiver ran up my back.

"Sorry," I whispered. "Soon, I promise."

Such conflict brewed inside of me. My desire for Jason was battling the longing I had to bond with my mom. It was taking some time, but she was becoming herself again. Haircuts, new makeup, a few new outfits this winter…the small things had become the big things. The woman who spent three years as a ghost of herself was having a rebirth. My heart was bursting with contentment as I watched her "ooh" and "ahh" over the pictures she'd already seen several times. This was the mom I remembered.

I was seven years old and had finished my very first ballet recital. Blotches formed in my line of sight after the show from being photographed by my parents over and over and over. My dad had purchased his first digital camera. I didn't really know what that meant at the time. A camera was a camera, wasn't it? Regardless, he was so excited about it and had taken over a hundred photos of me and the other girls in our pink tutus and leotards.

After the show, they took me to our favorite restaurant, Trudy's. It was an eclectic place where all the waitresses wore 1950s glasses and cardigan sweaters as they served incredible burgers and sweet potato fries. My favorite. We feasted on burgers with all sorts of toppings. And my parents surprised me with Trudy's famous Oreo brownie sundae. I felt like I might burst after that meal. But, my cheeks were glowing. I knew I had made them proud. I felt it in my bones.

Later that evening, I was playing Monopoly with my dad when Mom rushed through the door with a huge batch of photos she'd just developed at the drug store. She insisted we stop the game and look through the photos.

"Oh, Martin," she said. "Look at our beautiful girl. Look at her form. She's a natural."

"I agree," he'd said as he passed me each picture.

She made all sorts of faces while looking at the different photos, as if she herself hadn't just seen me dancing a few hours before. She oohed and ahhed over and over again, occasionally stopping to wipe a tear as it rolled down her cheek. Her tears made me nervous. I was too young to really understand why people cried at happy times. I cried when I fell off my bike or when my friend Tommy moved away to Iowa. But, my mom wasn't sad. She was happy, and the more she spoke about my performance that day, the more I understood. She was proud of me.

Mom was still thumbing through the album as I joined her on the couch. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I rested my chin on her shoulder, pulling her into me. Her hand clutched mine as she shut her eyes tight, a simple tear running down her cheek.

"I'm so proud of you, my sweetheart. You're such a good mom."

Her words stunned me. I couldn't remember the last time she voiced her pride in me. And I had no idea how much I missed hearing it until this moment. And so I sat with Allison Foster, and paged through all of the pictures of my son's first weeks at home. We oohed and ahhed together looking at my gorgeous boy. The boy who gave my life meaning. The boy who brought us back together. The boy who inspired Allison Foster to return to herself, to the woman she used to be.

Two hours later, Mom left for home. As I closed the door behind her, I leaned back, glancing at my watch. Jason looked curious as I stared at him in awe.

"I haven't spent that much time with her in a long time…a very long time."

"You look so at peace," Jason said as he approached.

"I think I am. So many things make sense now."

"Tell me," he said, tucking my hair behind my ears and looking deeply into my eyes. The warmth of those eyes radiated through me, and I knew that talking about Allison Foster was no longer on the agenda.

"Later," I purred, tugging on the collar of his button-down shirt. My fingernails pressed gently into the soft skin of his neck. He breathed deeply and his eyes grew darker as he drank me in.

Jason leaned in, repeating the ritual of earlier…teasing me with his lips, his teeth, and his minty breath. He could have his way with me right then and there, against the cold door of my apartment. But instead, he pulled away, gave me a devilish grin and pulled playfully on my hand. Following his lead, we laughed and shushed each other as we ran to my bedroom.

Jason lay me down on top of the covers, stroking my hair and neck as his tongue dipped into my mouth seductively. Suddenly, his muscles tensed and he pulled back.

"Be right back," he said, as he jogged out of the room. I was confused. I know I locked the door. The baby was fast asleep. What on earth was going on?

Jason jogged back into the room holding the baby monitor.

"Seriously?" I screeched. "His room is ten feet away."

He shrugged and placed it on my nightstand. "Force of habit, sorry."

"No, it's sexy," I replied, pulling him back down to me.

"Remind me to carry that thing around all the time," he said with a laugh.

"Not the monitor…the fact that you
thought of
the monitor. Here, now. That's huge."

"Oh, I wasn't looking for brownie points, but I'll take 'em."

He smirked as he pulled my sweater off and tossed it to the floor. He was wasting no time and I couldn't blame him. Our entire dinner was filled with stolen glances and unspoken sexual tension. We had hours of foreplay, being so close to one another without being able to act on our feelings. But, now we were alone and we didn't have to wait a second longer.

Popping the buttons on his shirt, quickly, I pulled it from his body, revealing the t-shirt underneath. I laughed as I saw the shirt for the first time.

"Six out of Seven Dwarves are not Happy?" I asked with a laugh. He cocked his head to the side.

"It's so sad, isn't it?" he teased, knowing full well that I got the joke. Snow White was my favorite Princess movie. I watched it constantly when I was young.

"Those poor dwarves." Doing my best to go along with the joke, I shook my head, looking disappointed. But, being the terrible actress that I was, I broke out into laughter.

"No poker face…at all." He shook his head before tearing the t-shirt off, revealing all of the tattoos that I'd grown familiar with over the last month. Tracing the ink on his chest, I could feel his heart pounding beneath his firm skin as he gazed down at me.

"Is that a problem?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Not at all. I love your honesty. Your face tells me everything I need to know."

"So does yours."

"We're a lot alike, aren't we?"

"Sometimes," I whispered, tracing my finger down to the button of his jeans, popping it free. He sighed as he crushed my mouth to his. His tongue swept into my mouth, tangling with mine, hypnotizing me with each stroke. Pushing his jeans and boxers down, I grasped his ass in my hands and he moaned into my mouth. Knowing I excited him like that was such a turn on. Kneading his skin again and again, thrusting my hips into him over and over, he yanked his jeans off before pulling mine past my toes and throwing all of our clothes into one giant heap on the carpet below.

Pulling a small packet from the drawer of the nightstand, he tore it open with his teeth and handed it to me. I was more than happy to slide the condom onto him. He was hard and completely ready to lose himself in me.

I lay down and he hovered above me, pushing my legs open with his own. Throwing my head back as he entered me, I gripped his shoulders, my fingernails digging in slightly. Jason released another moan as he found his pace. His elbows rested on the bed as he tangled his hands in my hair, kissing me all over my face and neck. Jason continued thrusting, again and again, the muscles of his ass tightening beneath my hands.

Pointing my toes towards the ceiling, I felt him going deeper with each thrust. And the pressure was building inside of me. His brow was furrowed as he continued to move, sweat building on his forehead and behind his neck. Just as I was about to come, he took a nipple into his mouth and it sent me over the edge. I called out his name as my orgasm consumed my entire body.

Jason smiled in satisfaction as he twisted his hips. I matched his thrusts with my own, determined to have him join me in my state of euphoria. Jason pressed his face to my neck as he found his release. He groaned deeply and bit into my skin as he came.

We stayed connected for several minutes, Jason planting feathery kisses along my neck and chest. He knew how much I loved the sensations on my skin…it deepened the euphoria and made me feel like I was floating in mid-air. After several minutes, he lay next to me, stroking my back with the pads of his fingertips. It tickled in the best possible way. My eyelids grew heavy as I basked in the sensation of his touch. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep.

Marty's cry pierced the bedroom and I sat up with a start. Jason was startled, too. I looked at him in panic. He'd never spent the night before. It felt irresponsible, somehow. Jason had always gone home at the end of the night, but he must've drifted off to sleep just like me.

"I'm so sorry. I know you don't want me to spend the night." Jason put his glasses on and looked at me with concern.

"Don't
want
you to? Is
that
what you think?" I asked, perplexed. Of course I wanted him to spend the night. If it were up to me, he'd be here every night of the week. It just didn't seem like the right thing to do…like a slippery slope that could lead to disaster and confusion for the baby. Things with Tucker were still confusing and unsettled. I hadn't seen him since he showed up after my run-in with his mother. He knew nothing about Marty's growth or development. But, he was still his father…and he complicated things with Jason.

"Well, yeah. I mean—I get it. I really do."

"But, you think I don't want this?" I asked, gesturing toward the space between us.

"Get the baby. He's hungry," Jason said, kissing me gently on the tip of my nose. His smile was genuine and forgiving. But, as I walked out of the room, I turned to see him grabbing the bridge of his nose. I scrunched mine, knowing this conversation had only just begun.

An hour later, as we lounged in the living room, I knew we needed to talk about it. Marty was playing in his soft play gym, swatting at cloth elephants and monkeys as he kicked his legs and giggled. Jason was reading on his Kindle, his feet up on the ottoman. He looked deep in thought. Part of me wanted to leave him be, but the other needed to face this head on. I hated that I made him feel this way.

I crouched on the cushion next to him, leaning on his shoulder. He looked over his glasses at me, his mouth slowly turning up into a hesitant smile.

"For the record," I said, running my fingers across his chin, "I love waking up with you."