Thought I Knew You(68)

I kissed him, my ears thundering. I felt a release I had never felt, even with Greg. Everything about him felt different from Greg, as if I’d come home. He tipped my head and kissed my lips gently.

I stood up and led him into the living room, where I poured him a glass of wine with shaky hands. We sat on the couch on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other.

“What—”

“How—”

We spoke at the same time and laughed self-consciously. He nodded for me to go first.

“Why did you come back? What happened? What does this mean?”

The lights from the Christmas tree twinkled in his eyes as he smiled shyly. “I tried, Claire. I did. After you left, I talked myself into believing it was for the best. I needed to be with someone, to be focused on someone other than you. For once in my life. And Olivia… she was great. We were great… but she knew. She knew before I did. She broke it off last week.”

“Are you here because she broke it off?” I asked, offended.



“No… no.” He sighed. “I’m here because she was smart enough to do what was best for me when I couldn’t.”

“What do you want?” I was thinking of his life in the city and my life in the suburbs. It can’t actually work. Can it? Was love enough? I envisioned Olivia in Drew’s world. She knew the people, the politics. I was an outsider, figuratively and geographically. My life was about Sesame Street and preschool. I knew nothing of art shows and gallery openings.

He bridged the gap between us on the couch and touched my hand. “I want you. In my life. Every day. I have wanted that for as long as I can remember.”

We laced our fingers together, and I studied our hands. I knew Drew’s hands as well as my own—long, thin fingers with large knuckles, hands that fixed things, hands that kept me from falling during every rough spot in my life. He pulled me toward him.

I leaned against him. We were going down a path both of us had only dreamed about. I unbuttoned his shirt and slowly explored his chest and stomach with my hands. I leaned forward to kiss him. I heard his sharp intake of breath as I worked the button on his jeans. I stood and pulled my sweater up over my head, then worked my jeans down over my hips. I straddled him, taking him inside me in one smooth motion.

We moved together, languidly and unhurried, relishing the moment for which we had both waited so long. I gazed in his eyes as we climaxed.

He whispered, “I love you.”

I love you, too, my heart responded.





I woke up on Christmas morning, wrapped in Drew’s arms on the living room couch, covered with a fleece, holiday-themed throw. I prodded Drew awake, then kissed him, thinking for the first time how fantastic it felt to be able to do that. Like something I never knew that I always wanted to do.



“Get up,” I whispered, giggling.

“What? Why?” He struggled to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Because if we don’t put clothes on soon, the girls are going to really have a memorable Christmas.”

He grinned. “I think we can safely call this a memorable Christmas.” He leaned forward to kiss my neck.

I reluctantly pushed him away. “Go. Clothes. Now. We’ve got maybe five minutes.” Pulling the blanket up over me, I ran on tiptoe as quietly as I could up the stairs and into my bedroom.

I changed into pajamas and was back downstairs mere minutes before the clattering of little feet thundered down the stairs. The girls stopped abruptly when they saw Drew.

“Santa brought us Drew,” I told them.

They squealed with delight, jumping on his lap simultaneously. Drew mimicked their exuberance until the cacophony in the living room became so great that I held two fingers to my mouth and whistled. Everyone stopped and looked at me.

“She really ruins everything, right?” Drew whispered to Hannah.

She nodded seriously. No fun at all, she mouthed back.

“Okay, it’s Christmas. Santa brought Drew, but he also brought some presents. And I need coffee. And breakfast. What do you want to do first?” I asked with mock seriousness.

“Presents!” they shouted.

“Presents after coffee,” I corrected.

They wiggled with anticipation as they sat in front of the tree, waiting for me to bring in the coffee. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Drew. He touched my hand lightly as I passed him his coffee. Distracting electricity. I couldn’t reconcile our previous night’s activities with my life that included the girls. While everyone opened their presents, I found my mind wandering to the night before—his tentative, but soft touch, his almost shy expression, as though the moment could vanish in a puff of smoke. And I blushed, realizing Drew was watching me. He gave me a sly smile. I’d forgotten how easily he could read my face, my mind. I had no secrets from Drew. My emotions were an open book to him, written in a language that only he knew. Yes, this is going to be different.