Borrowing Trouble (15 page)

“We’ve kept in touch since then. We know a few of the same people.”

“Like here in Memphis? Josh doesn’t really leave the house.”

“No, I went to college with some of his high school friends. Small world.”

“So that really is how the world works. Six degrees of men born with silver spoons in their mouths? A cabal of male Columbia and Brown graduates controlling the world?”

“Throw in some Stanford guys, and yes. But don’t tell the Harvard and Yale guys. Hurts their egos. Now, let’s get you barefoot and in my kitchen.”

Dear God, please help me. I don’t know whether to smack him or laugh.

***

When my parents arrived, I was putting the twice-baked potatoes we’d bought in the oven and Trip was in the back garden, starting the grill. The doorbell echoed through the house.

Breathe. Breathe. Should I get the door? It’s his house. It’s not mine. Oh, this is stupid. I’m not leaving my parents on the front steps.

I walked to the front door and greeted them.

“Hey, sweetie,” said my mom. “I brought dessert. I hope he likes banana pudding.”

“I’m sure he will. Come in, come in.”

“Hostessing, already?”

I paused at the implication that I’d claimed Trip’s house as my own. “No, Trip’s just out in the back with the grill.”

“Sounds like that’s where I should go, too,” said my dad. “You good?” he whispered, pulling me into a hug.

“Very.”

“Is he being nice?”

“Very.”

“Good. That’s all I need to know. Now show me to the grill.”

I led my parents through the house to the kitchen where Mom placed the Tupperware in the fridge and Dad spied Trip by the grill. “Okay, I’m off to be a man.” Dad took his leave and I internally cringed, knowing Mom was about to ask me a million questions none of which I probably had answers to.

“So, this is a really nice house. Fancy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And so close to your condo.”

I nodded.
She’s fishing.

“Yes, that is nice.”

“Do you spend a lot of time here? Last time we had a good chat, you were here.”

“Mom,” I groaned. “Trip travels a ton for work. We really only see each other on the weekends. So, yes and no, I guess. Please don’t go planning a wedding in your mind.”

“Who is planning a wedding, sweetie?” she asked with a kind wink. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Mom, please. Please just leave it. Yes, I’m happy. Yes, we’re dating. No, we’re not seeing other people.”
At least I’m not and I’m pretty sure he isn’t either. Should we have that conversation?
“No, I don’t know where this is going.”

“I’m not asking you to know that. But I know that.”

“Fine.”

“Gone shopping with his mom again?”

“You are really jealous about that, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m not too big to admit it. So, have you?”

“No, but when I saw her last night she—”

“You saw his mom last night?”

“We went to the ballet with his parents and then dinner.”

“Okay,” she breathed out slowly. “You pretend all you want Marisa Louise Tanner. I’m not buying it a bit. No man takes a woman he’s casually dating to the ballet with his mother. So, this is it, isn’t it?”

“Hope so,” I said quietly, avoiding her gaze and peering at the twice-baked potatoes browning in the oven.

“Will you promise me one thing? Please don’t elope. No Vegas. No Reno.”

“Who’s going to Nevada?” called Trip, stepping into the kitchen. “Nancy, y’all got a trip coming up?”

“Oh, no. Just talking. Trip, how are you?” My mom gave him a big hug.

Please dial it down, Mom. Please don’t freak out on him. Be cool. Be cool, Mom.

“I’m great. Thanks for coming to dinner.”

“Thank you for inviting us. I hope you like banana pudding. I brought some for dessert.”

“And Nancy’s banana pudding is not to be missed,” interjected my dad, stepping into the kitchen behind Trip. “She makes it from scratch. Even the cookies.”

“Impressive. So, steaks, twice-baked potatoes, lima beans, and banana pudding. I’m thinking a red blend? Nancy?”

“Sounds lovely,” she replied. I eyed my dad. He nodded, trying to give me assurance across the room.

Mom is such a lightweight. Two glasses and she’s going to start talking about how cute our children are going to be. Dad, please stay on this.

Trip pulled down a bottle of wine and with that, dinner was in full swing.

That last glass of wine was not a good idea.
Trip pushed back to collect our dessert plates from the dining table and urged me to continue to sit. Mom popped up to help him. No bombs. No interrogations. No inappropriate questions. Just lots of football. Lots and lots of football. My neck was sore from nodding and my eyes had glazed over.

“So, sweetie, you happy?”

“Glad to have someone to talk SEC football with, Daddy?”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“Nope. You didn’t sound like a sports talk radio junkie at all.”

“Sorry, but it is nice to have someone to talk with. Do you think he wants to come hunting with me?”

“He doesn’t hunt.”

“Okay, but I’m going to ask.”

“No, you are not. You and Mom need to give us some space.”

“Okay. You’ve got space. Now give me some grandbabies.”

What. The. Hell.

“I’m going to pretend that you never said that. Like ever.”

“Nancy,” he called from the table. “I think it’s time we went home. Leave these kids alone.”

“I should get on, too. I need to get some work done before tomorrow,” I offered.

“Trip, keep the rest of the banana pudding. Marisa will bring the Tupperware back to me.”

“A word of caution. Man to man. Do not lose Nancy’s Tupperware,” my dad said with a good-bye handshake. I nodded in whole-hearted agreement.

“Correct. Do not lose it or we’ll have to break up. Sorry.” I gave him a brief hug around his neck. “See you later. Thanks for having us over.”

“Marisa, can I talk with you a second?”

“Sure, Mom.” I stepped to the side with her.

“We know what you’re doing and it’s silly. Just stay. You’re a grown up. You’re both adults. Things that would have upset us when you were seventeen or even twenty-five don’t worry us anymore. Just be careful. Got it? Have a good night. I love you.”

She gave me a hug. And with that my parents walked to their car and left me on Trip’s front steps.

“Okay, this is when you’re going to get into your car and drive around the neighborhood for a few minutes,” Trip teased.

“Nope,” I shrugged. “Looks like I’ve somehow graduated to being an adult.”

“Wanna go to a movie? If we leave now, we can catch a nine o’clock show at the Malco.”

“Sure,” I replied, surprised he didn’t want to fall into bed. “Like a real date?”

“Yes, like a real date.” He kissed my temple and grabbed my hand.

We held hands through the movie. Like teenagers but without the groping and fondling. It was some critically acclaimed drama, but it didn’t matter. I was happy to be doing something “normal” with my boyfriend. Being near him, resting my head on his shoulder, I felt at peace. When the movie ended, we filed out quietly, our fingers still intertwined.

“Home?” he asked.

I nodded.
Yes, home.

We drove towards downtown in a comfortable silence. His right hand on my left thigh, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. “So, I don’t want to be too greedy with you here, so I’ll drop you by your place if you want, but I’d really like you to come home with me.”

I smiled and softly snorted. “Funny. When you asked about going home, I didn’t even think you meant taking me to my place.”

He gave my thigh a squeeze.              “Good.”

We got home and instead of chasing each other upstairs, we lazily walked into the house. Trip’s arm found his way around my waist. I tossed my purse on the island and he dropped his keys next to it.

This feels different. This is different. Good different, but different.

In the master bedroom, I walked to the bathroom and Trip made his way to the closet. I stripped down to nothing and threw on one of his old t-shirts, brushed my teeth and washed my face.

“Hey beautiful.”

I placed the washcloth on the rack and looked at him in the mirror. My mellow man, worn and tired in his boxers. “It’s been a long few days.”

“It’s been a long couple of weeks. I’m beat.”

“You were a trooper tonight with my parents. Ready for bed?”

A smile curled on his lips. “Nothing compares to your yesterday.”

“Yes. I’m going with that being a one-off. In fact, I’ve repressed half of it already. No repeats.”

“I will do my damnedest on that front. Today was great though.” He reached for his toothbrush and the toothpaste. I nodded and moved away from the sink. I wrapped my arms around his lean torso and rested the side of my face on his muscular back. I smiled as I jiggled slightly in time to his brushing. He spat, rinsed his brush, tapped it against the sink a few times and dropped it back into the holder. “So your mom doesn’t want us eloping?”

My head shot up.
He heard that?
“Yeah. Seems like it.”
Be cool.

“Don’t think I haven’t gotten the same talk. Come here.” He turned and took me in his arms. “I just find it funny that our parents are about ten steps ahead of us.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how to manage their expectations.”

“Do you really think I’m going to break your heart? Because I’m not. You, however, are utterly ruining me. Bed?” He nipped at my neck and I nodded.

We shuffled out of the bathroom and towards the big bed covered with a plush down duvet that we pushed to the floor.

Winter really is going to come. He bought me a treadmill. He wants me here. I want to be here.

I crawled under and snuggled into his side, resting my head on his chest with one leg slung over his thighs.

“This is heaven. I love Sleep Position One.”

“Sleep Position One?”

“Yeah, that’s this. You’re just so damn comfortable on me this way. I always start to fall asleep when you do this. London was hell. I couldn’t get comfortable. Even tried placing a pillow on top of me to simulate you. Didn’t work, but I was desperate.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come with you.”

“But you will sometime, right?”

“Of course,” I said, listening to his heart beat for a few moments. “So, if this is Sleep Position One, then there are other sleep positions?”

“Yes, but this is the best. The others are all tied in the top five, but SP One is definitely number one.”

“I like this, too. SP One. I like listening to your heart and having your arms around me.”

We kissed languidly. Unhurriedly, we explored and caressed our shared topography. He rolled me to my back, kissing my neck while his hands stroked my breasts. He tweaked a nipple and a bolt of sensation shot down my spine. A moan escaped my lips.

“Please, please,” I chanted.

He growled. I laughed. “Did you just growl?”

“Yes,” he spoke into my stomach. I felt his smile on my skin near my navel. He moved his attention and grazed my hipbone with his teeth. I bucked and resumed my pleading. His hands found my hips and restrained them, while working his body in between my legs. He swiped a pillow and shoved it under my hips. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. All day. About how good your pussy tastes.”

Holy shit.

He began to work in earnest and all coherent thought left my brain. I became wanton, entirely present in our entwined bodies. My fingers toyed with my nipples and tugged at his hair. I rose and crashed and found myself flipped onto my knees. He entered me from behind, playing with my clit while I ground my hips on the tops of his thighs.

“You like it like this? You like fucking me from behind?”

His response came out between panting breaths, punctuated by hard thrusts as his thighs slapped my ass. “You. Fuck. Oh. God. Marisa. Always. Fuck.”

He began to shudder and I felt myself break apart. My legs gave way and I collapsed onto the bed. Trip pulled my hips up and with a final thrust came inside me.

Oh wow.

He draped his body over mine, our mouths moving in tandem while we drifted down from our orgasms.

“Wow. Wow. Just wow.” I couldn’t move. Not a muscle.

“See, I get speechless Marisa all the time. I don’t know what Josh found so strange about that.” Trip kissed my shoulder and pushed off of me.

After a leisurely shower, we crawled back into bed. “SP One?” I offered.

“No. I want to hold you. Sleep Position Two, please.”

“What’s that?”

“I think most people call it spooning.”